Chapter Two
It’ll be the best job you’ll ever have, they said. You’ll never want to leave. U-Ground is an employee’s paradise. Yeah, right. Bailey Duncan rolled her neck, wondering why she always had to work the night shift. Though she’d been deemed U-Ground’s Service Rep of the Quarter, she felt like the lowest peon on the totem pole lately.
The phone rang, again, and she sighed at the myriad lights blinking on her display. She put her current call on hold, answered the next guy in line, rattled off his dispatch, then returned to her current problem child.
“Seriously, this load isn’t worth my time.” Joseph, her biggest pain in the ass since taking on a second board of U-Ground drivers, started to complain. “And what the hell am I transporting? You have any idea how heavy my crates are? I barely made it past the last DOT weigh in.”
While she talked him off the constant ledge he seemed to be perched on, her headache returned. No doubt her own fault since she’d forgotten to grab a coffee from home. She loved her java but could do without the caffeine withdrawal.
Bailey dealt with four more calls before needing a break. “Hey Steve, can you take the rest of my calls? I need a break? My head is killing me.”
Her supervisor smiled. “Sure thing, Bailey. Go ahead. You’re due for a lunch anyway.”
More like a midnight snack. “Okay. See you in half an hour.” She rubbed her temples and walked away from the maze of cubicles into the staff room.
When she’d majored in communications in college, she’d never imagined she might put that handy degree to work talking on the phone eight hours a night. But then, jobs were hard to come by, and she made an excellent salary at U-Ground. So what that she felt as excited about work as she would about a root canal? Or that she basically read details off the computer—what any unskilled sixteen year old could do.
U-Ground was only a starting point. You can do this. Your student loans need you. At the thought of how much longer she still had to pay them off, she groaned and headed into the upper management lounge.
Since making Rep of the Quarter, she’d been given a few perks she loved. One, a parking spot not located three states away. And two, access to this schwanky manager lounge. They didn’t just have a coffee maker. They had an espresso machine and milk frother. Gourmet food machines, a microwave and mini cooktop, as well as a fancy electronic kettle and a selection of teas and coffees for the taking. To her delight, the place was empty. She normally only shared it with a few night owls working the late shift anyway.
Just as she headed in the direction of the coffee pot, desperate for her daily fix, trouble walked in the door. Myers and Yates, two of her least favorite people on the planet. They worked security on one of the lower levels in the building, where they made the super secret stuff they transported. Some kind of hybridized electronic and steel plates that the government used for…something.
Bailey had been told the material would be used in construction to protect government buildings from new threats. The security had to be tight at all times. Heck, just getting a job in the place had been like jumping through a bazillion hoops. But for the pay, she’d jumped like mad.
“Well, well, Myers. Our lucky night.” Yates didn’t so much grin as leer at her.
“Hello, sweetness.” Myers gave her a smile that made her shiver.
“Good evening.” So much for hanging around the lounge. She’d take her coffee to go. She poured herself a large mug and doctored it with enough creamer and sugar to be palatable. But when she turned to leave, the monstrously large guards surrounded her.
The security teams on her floor looked normal enough. But the men from the lower levels took pumping iron to an extreme. Yates and Myers were a fair representative—buff, menacing, and enjoying their power. They were interchangeable, Yates with blue eyes, Myers with brown. Both major assholes.
“When do you think we’re going to have that dinner?” Myers asked.
“Or a drink?” Yates added. “I’m free after work in the morning.”
“For a drink?” She took a hasty sip of coffee and nearly scalded her tongue. “Well, I’d better get back before—”
Myers stepped closer, almost on top of her. She stared at the center of his chest, taking particular note of the breadth of muscle there. Then she raised her gaze to his mean eyes and hard, unsmiling mouth. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Talk about sexual harassment. The two men had been bothering her for weeks. She’d complained, to no avail. None of the higher ups had done anything about them. Odd, considering the sensitive climate these days concerning harassment. Her boss had talked to HR on her behalf, but even Steve didn’t have much pull. Not compared to the people who worked in the secured environment on the lower levels. In addition, Myers and Yates had standing with the company. She didn’t. Six months of her time compared to three years of theirs.
She didn’t think they’d do more than verbally taunt her, not in a company environment. But she’d taken care not to go to her car alone after work, even in broad daylight.
“Look, I—”
Yates pushed Myers back. “Hey, man. Back off. You’re scaring her.”
“I’m not scared, but—”
“She said she’s not scared.” Myers glared at his supposed friend and shoved Yates. “See? She wants to go out with me.”
“No, I don’t.” She tried to edge away, but Yates closed in on her.
“She wants me.” He plucked the coffee from her hands and placed it on the counter behind her.
“Hey.”
Before she could grab it, Yates kissed her. More like mauled her. His slimy mouth made her want to gag. She hadn’t noticed more than his bland aftershave, but now pressed up against him, she smelled body odor, tasted the too sweet cola he’d consumed earlier, and felt as if spiders were crawling all over her. Her senses went haywire, and she bit down, hard, piercing his lip.
To her horror, she tasted blood.
Yates sprang back and glared at her. “Bitch bit me.”
“That’s cause you were doing it wrong.” Myers chuckled and dragged her to him, resisting her fists with ease. “How about my way?”
He leaned down to kiss her, nearly suffocating her with his fat mouth and bruising hug. And she went crazy.
Bailey tore into his face, his arms, gouging and screaming, hitting and flailing. A haze of out-of-control rage—not fear—consumed her. As did an inhuman sense of strength. She’d kill him. How dare he touch her? She’d tear him apart, bathe in his blood, then—
Bailey blinked up at the ceiling.
Confused to find herself sprawled on the floor, all alone in the room, she took a moment. She didn’t see anything, but she tasted copper. A bad taste, and what exactly did that mean? She picked herself up off the floor, baffled, scared, and no longer suffering a headache.
“What the hell?” Shaky, she ran her hands over her clothes, her head, her body. Nothing felt out of place. No lumps on her head to prove they’d knocked her out. No disarray to her clothing to show she might have been violated after being—what? Drugged?
How had she been assaulted one minute, alone and on the floor seconds later, with no recollection of escaping the attack?
As she tried to still her shaking legs and gripped the counter, Myers and Yates entered the break room.
She froze.
Yates frowned. “You okay?” His lip looked fine. No bite mark.
“I-I, uh—you…”
“Hey, Bailey, you want to sit down? You look pale.” Myers nodded to her cup, still on the counter. “That yours? Maybe have a sip and relax.”
Neither man looked bruised or mussed.
What the hell?
She grabbed her coffee, gave the pair a wide berth, then darted out the door. Great. Another blackout. I’m going to have to see a doctor. Three times in one week? If this is the new normal, I am seriously screwed.
Myers shared a glance with Yates. He moved to the phone mounted to the wall and dialed.
Dr. Lang answered. “Yes?”
“She’s showing definite signs.”
Yates nodded, his hearing as enhanced at Myers’s.
“You’re sure?” The excitement in Lang’s voice irritated him. Myers had had enough of Lang’s plans. He’d put up with a lot for the crazy bastard. The money had been good, but not enough that he should have to deal with a loony bitch who said no when she really meant yes. Good thing he healed fast.
“Her pheromones were all over the place. She wants it bad, even if she’s not aware of it.” He shared a grin with Yates. “I think it’s time we introduced her to the team.”
“Hmm.” Lang paused. “Not yet. I need more data.”
“Then when, Doc? The boys aren’t doing so well.” Understatement. He’d had to hide a body this morning. Not the way he’d planned to spend his time with Jane Doe #4. Unlike Sheer, he liked his bed partners alive.
“Yes, yes. I know it’s getting worse. I just need a little more time. Trust me. Once she’s fully developed, she’ll suit. Right now, too much rough handling will kill her. I’ll have to start over. And that won’t help anyone.”
“He’s got a point,” Yates said in a low voice.
Myers agreed. But he couldn’t say the same for Pratt or the other guys. Which reminded him. Yates and he needed to deal with Palmer. Maybe the doc had a few ideas. “Okay. We’ll wait on Bailey. But about Palmer. He’s a little off.” They’d all denied taking the drugs that made them special, because Lang had told them to keep their abilities a secret. But Myers had a feeling Palmer really hadn’t been given EP13.
“I’m aware. I’ll take care of it.” That tone in Lang’s voice.
Myers knew when to back off. “Yes, sir.”
“If there’s nothing else?”
“That’s all for now.”
Lang hung up without a goodbye.
“So we have to wait.” Yates scowled.
“What else is new?” Myers sighed. “I know we volunteered for this, but I’m getting tired of waiting. Any word on the other freaks Lang’s working on? Smith say anything about when we can have them?”
“No, but he’s not one to talk to right now. You saw what he did to Spencer. Torched his balls off.”
Myers frowned. “Smith worries me.”
“Me too. But I think he worries Lang more. That’s why we’re here.” Yates gave a shrug. “But there are ways around him, around the doc too, for that matter. Have you seen the chicks down on level 4? Part of that psychic program Lang’s fronting? How about we offer some security down there?”
“Seen anything you like?” No wonder he and Yates got along so well.
“There’s a new sexy brunette mouthing off about things she shouldn’t be talking about. No one’s going to complain if she wants to play house with us…then disappears.”
“Well then. Let’s go.”
***
Gideon loved the feel of Pratt’s guts squishing through his fingers. The scent of Pratt’s otherness surprised him, though. He hadn’t sensed it before, but now he realized Pratt had to be a little bit like him. Psychic, yet not. Stronger, for sure, because though Pratt had fallen in a heap to the ground, he remained silent and aware. Gideon leaned down to grab him, and the bloodied guard struggled to go free.
With Gideon’s luck, the asshole would heal, and then he’d need to deal with Pratt and Palmer at the same time. Ripping his arm from the other metal band on the table, Gideon tore into Pratt’s neck. No way the guy would re-grow a head. At least, he hoped not.
While keeping his gaze on Palmer, who stood too close for comfort, Gideon sawed at Pratt’s neck, tensed and ready for Palmer’s attack.
Pratt finally let loose a blood-curdling shriek when Gideon hit his cervical spine, but he couldn’t do more than dangle like a puppet on a stick as Gideon controlled his movements, psychically attuned to every move Pratt made before he made it. He dug deep into the man’s neck.
After a few moments, Pratt ceased howling, then he stopped breathing as Gideon ripped his head off his body. Covered in blood, Gideon smiled through his fangs at Palmer, ready for the next round.
Palmer still hadn’t attacked, in fact, he took a few steps back and held up his hands in surrender. That lack of aggression annoyed Gideon more than if the shithead had gone for his throat.
After nudging Pratt’s body aside, Gideon leaped at Palmer, who dodged him.
The animalistic rage inside him boiled. “You’re a dead man.”
“We really don’t have time for this.” Palmer frowned. “It’s after 23:00 already.”
Gideon feinted right. Palmer predictably moved left, and Gideon tackled him, feeling his own skin continue to knit, healing and strengthening as he fought. They rolled, and Gideon tried to get a feel for the man. Palmer was large and dense in muscle, fierce, and…shielded. They wrestled, pressed body-to-body, yet Gideon still couldn’t read him, which had never before happened.
He punched, kicked, bit. They pummeled each other, and the creature inside Gideon continued to grow in strength. Despite their brawling, he hadn’t broken Palmer’s skin, which was odd. The creature inside him didn’t like that at all. Gideon continued to tear at the big man, then realized Palmer wasn’t fighting back so much as he was defending himself.
Knowing Palmer’s strength, feeling that energy yet seeing no animosity, Gideon paused and stared down at his adversary. He remained on top of Palmer, their hips flush, his legs on either side of Palmer’s holding him down.
As he met Palmer’s gaze, something alien blinked back at him. Gideon narrowed his focus, saw the outline of contacts, masking Palmer’s eyes. He shifted over Palmer, determined to figure the bastard out, and the tip of a claw pierced deep, through Palmer’s skin into his shoulder.
They both tensed.
Gideon watched, waiting for a reaction, and got none. He removed his claw and shoved Palmer’s shirt aside, watching as the guy’s skin healed in seconds. Then he glanced at the dark red blood stain on his claw. Unlike Pratt’s death scent, a sweet smell of earth and life hit him hard. Palmer smelled…right.
To Gideon’s shock, his cock swelled, a furious rush of desire making it hard to think past the need to fuck. He tried to shake it off. Had to be the effect of whatever they’d shoved into his bloodstream, because Gideon didn’t do guys. But he ached, so much…
“Oh hell.” Palmer continued to stare up at him, and Gideon swore the guy’s pupils elongated, a glow brightening behind the protection of his contacts. “Not now, Gideon.”
“When?” he heard himself say while the creature inside him took charge. Some part of him knew none of this made sense. Getting a hard-on—for a guy—while covered in blood and squirming over the freakin’ enemy could only be considered insane.
But the creature inside him refused to be silenced. It wanted, and it would have its prey, one way or the other.
Palmer must have sensed the danger in refusing, because he dragged a hand over between them, molding Gideon’s huge hard-on, then cupped his balls. “Oh yeah. You want it. You’re nice and wet.” He ran his hand over Gideon’s slick cock again.
Wet? Gideon wanted to ask questions, but the earthy scent around Palmer deepened, drugging with lust, and the creature within him took over. He leaned closer and nipped Palmer’s lower lip. The taste of the man was like nothing Gideon had ever experienced. Sultry, necessary, and fucking fantastic. Before he knew it, he was kissing the breath out of Palmer, stroking into the man’s big hand while plastered to that hard, commanding body.
Palmer rumbled beneath him with a vibrating purr that made Gideon yearn to be closer. As he ground over the guy, he felt an answering erection in Palmer’s pants. A huge, thick shaft as big as his own.
Palmer slid his tongue between Gideon’s lips, delved deep, then pulled back. Gideon pulled his head away to see Palmer’s expression contorted into pleasured pain. “I’m close. Fuck, Gideon. You chose a hell of a time for this.” But Palmer didn’t protest any more. He gripped Gideon tighter.
Desire consumed him. Pistoning faster, harder, Gideon did his best to challenge the male, to see who would come first. Even the sound of the alarm didn’t stop Gideon from biting hard into Palmer’s shoulder as he conquered the male and came in his enemy’s hand. The ecstasy stilled the violent need inside him, especially when he smelled not only his seed, but Palmer’s as well.
“Damn it. Now’s not a good time.” Palmer groaned and rubbed against him a few more times. “Shit, that felt good.” He glanced up at Gideon, met his gaze, then closed his eyes and turned his head, offering his throat.
Satisfied, the beast inside Gideon released its hold over him and surrendered to the sudden exhaustion that settled into his bones. He slumped over his lover—his enemy—and fell asleep.
Alex stifled several oaths as he did his best to think of a way out of this mess, and at the same time, to not jostle Gideon. “Fuck me.” He hadn’t planned this. Hadn’t thought himself capable of this kind of raw desire—especially not with a bloodied, naked Circ. His bisexual nature aside, he hadn’t desired sex since losing Ryan a year ago.
His suspicion that he’d been experimented on without his consent had been proven beyond a doubt. I’m so screwed.
He gently scooted a sleeping Gideon off him and stood. Grimacing at the blood all over his shirt, the floor, and at the mess in his pants, he swore some more and checked his phone. Shit. Time to definitely go before everything went to hell. Gideon hadn’t been part of his initial plan. Now he’d have to improvise.
A glance at Pratt’s sightless eyes made him smile, though. He’d been wanting to do the bastard some damage for months. Gideon had gone a step beyond, but hell, he’d earned the right to his retribution. And speaking of which… No worries that Smith’s blowtorch had done Gideon permanent damage. The guy had functioned on all cylinders in the sex department.
Alex felt his cheeks heat. Good Lord. He’d really jerked a stranger off and come in his pants. A glance at Gideon’s form showed the guy fully healed under all that blood. That big cock hadn’t suffered lasting damage either. No burn marks, no scars, nothing anywhere on Gideon’s body to show he’d ever been tortured beyond what a person should ever bear.
Knowing he had better things to do than ogle the Circ he’d just gotten off, Alex easily slung Gideon over his shoulder. The alarm was loud. Whether it had been raised as a result of Gideon killing Pratt or the distraction, according to the plan, he had no idea. But he did know he needed to move. ASAP.
He ran unimpeded down the hallway, through the haze of smoke, the blare of the alarms, and toward the sound of gunfire.
The government clean-up team had definitely arrived.
He rushed past the guard station, not surprised to see it empty, and toward a side stairwell normally only used by administrators. Rushing up one flight to the infirmary and praying Katie had gotten out in time, if she’d even been in the place, he encountered hostiles and looked for the other two men needing extraction. He had to get to Elijah Ortiz and Carter Freeman before Dr. Lang’s men took them away, and he’d overheard Peters mention that both men had been escorted to level two.
Of all the subjects who’d been worked over with Lang’s “new and improved” Circ serum, EL13, only Gideon, Elijah, and Carter qualified as successes. Alex had passed Katie’s data to General Shields and the Circe’s Recruits team. The good guys were supposed to handle all the bad shit going down here. Hopefully they’d shut the place down and provide some help for the poor bastards lost to mutation.
Alex hadn’t mentioned his own misgivings that he too might be Circ. Once he ditched this place, he intended to start fresh somewhere else, where no one knew him. He and Katie could try being normal for once. For all the Circ team knew, he was just a bumbling security guard in the wrong place at the wrong time. A guy who’d happened on some weird crap and wanted to do the right thing. Period.
Over his shoulder, Gideon groaned.
Great. Just what Alex didn’t need. And then he caught it, that psychic scent of more Circs nearby. He followed it to a room and put his hand on the keypad.
A rush of heat filled his mind, the image of numbers entered, then a vision of Elijah and Carter dragged into the room, tearing at each other and growling like animals. Alex blinked to clear his vision, wishing he didn’t have to wear his stupid contacts anymore. But they’d helped hide the odd brightness of his eyes. Had Dr. Lang seen that, he surely would have caged Alex like all his other subjects.
Alex inputted the code, then entered. Elijah and Carter stood clutching the bars of their respective cells. Both men looked larger than he’d last seen them. Both…different. Like Gideon and himself, they were more. Alex had always been big, so his changes had been subtle. Not these guys. They’d been huge to begin with, but now they dwarfed him by a few inches. At least six-five or six-six. Definitely noticeable, even if they hadn’t been sporting fangs, claws, and those feline-like, slit pupils—eyes he might even now be developing.
He placed an awakening Gideon down onto a lab table and pulled out his phone.
“Come here, shithead.” Elijah Ortiz smiled, and Alex knew to keep back. The guy had a new ability that unnerved Smith, of all people. Not sure what it was, Alex nevertheless understood the doctors believed Elijah to be the most dangerous of the new Circs.
“Let us out,” Carter Freeman ordered. Dark blond hair curled around his nape, his blue eyes—yeah, glowing. Strange as hell, and oddly compelling. “Just open up the cages and let us free.”
Alex didn’t plan on freeing them without help. He tried to look down to text his location, so the troops could get them free. But he couldn’t look away from Carter.
Elijah laughed, tearing Alex’s concentration. From a distance, Elijah’s eyes seemed black as pitch, like a void sucking everything inside.
“Come on, Palmer. We’re friends. Look at me,” Carter crooned. Alex glanced back at him. “Let us out.”
Alex didn’t want to, but he took a step toward Carter. Then another. Carter smiled, encouraging. Alex had almost reached the cage…