Circe's Recruits 1: Roane (11 page)

“You’ve done your job, Agent Dunn. Now leave us.” He nodded to a shadowy figure near the doorway.

Not much disturbed him, but Simon refused to be around that giant freak unless he had to. Dealing with Vincent was preferable to that monster. Maybe he’d fool around with the newest acquisitions on the lower level, the ones Pearl thought no one knew about. His cock twitched with approval, and he left without a backward glance.

“McKinley, find Torrence for me.” Elliot scribbled in his notebook and turned to the computer. Not a sound was made, but Elliot suddenly felt alone. Finally.

He contemplated the file he’d been working on for the past twenty-eight years. The key to all his hard work: Caitlyn Chase.

He’d been impressed by her father, Lieutenant Brendan Chase, from the moment they’d met. Hence, a standard physical for the young soldier had turned into so much more.

Brendan was an all-American: intelligent, athletic, with the drive and skill to become a commanding general had he lived long enough.

His wife, Colleen, had been as charismatic and talented, with a beauty that took his breath away. She and Brendan had created a wonderful child in their son, Robert.

Wonderful, but average. Normal. When Colleen gave birth to Caitlyn, however, they’d achieved perfection.

The boy hadn’t shown any signs of effect from the Circe serum, or EP12, as Elliot liked to call it. Probably because when he’d been conceived, Brendan and Colleen hadn’t accepted a high enough dose to fully mutate their DNA. Three more years of medical experimentation had proven that Brendan had what it took. EP12 liked his genes, so much so that they turned Brendan into a fighting machine and made his daughter into something else. The beginning of a new era.

Colleen Chase showed little change that Elliot could see. Though he’d found Colleen attractive, Elliot had never been able to determine if her appeal to the opposite sex was enhanced by the serum or was a result of her natural genetics.

Brendan showed superior strength and agility thanks to EP12, but he hadn’t gained the intuitive foresight that continued to save Circe’s Recruits time and time again. Certainly the stalwart lieutenant had misread the situation when his car had been forced off that cliff, killing him, his wife, and his son.

“You wanted me?” Sabrina Torrence’s stiff posture told him she hadn’t appreciated being disturbed.

“I need you to run more tests on the blood samples I gave you this morning.”

“I’m in the middle of another project.”

“This is more important. From what you’ve reported, our subject --”

“I already told you. Her results match the toxin levels in Caitlyn Chase’s sample.” Elliot frowned. “That can’t be right.”

“It is. I’ll run the test again, but be prepared for the same results.” She left on that note.

Short and to the point.

Though Elliot didn’t appreciate the way Torrence talked to him, he had no fault with her scientific process. Torrence had a genius IQ and wielded it with blade-sharp precision.

Once a corpsman in the Navy, she’d served her time as a mere phlebotomist.

Elliot had seen the potential in her for so much more.

Like a sponge, Torrence absorbed everything he put in front of her. He liked the fact that she wasn’t a doctor, but a peon without a degree or specialization other than drawing blood, which anyone could do. He sniffed, reminding himself how very common she actually was.

If she wasn’t so damned smart and vital to his new labs, he’d give her to McKinley. But Torrence knew what he needed practically before he needed it -- with the exception of those damned blood tests today. He’d be foolish to let her go, even if she did have a tendency to forget her place in the organization.

Not to mention she ran her section of the lab with an efficiency that put all the others -- those with doctorates and advanced degrees -- to shame. He had half a mind to put her in charge of the subbasement level, if only to see how she’d handle the unwilling patients.

“Want me to correct her attitude, Dr. Pearl?” Elliot glanced up to see McKinley watching him. Those eerie yellow eyes never blinked.

Elliot’s skin crawled, though he refused to show it. McKinley had been his first successful Circ after the initial batch went crazy -- with the exception of Evan’s squad. Three years ago, McKinley had appeared and protected him against the real power behind the new Project Dawn. Day in and day out, McKinley remained close by, a comforting presence when the CEO arrived, a threatening blanket when he stood in the darkness, always watching. He remained cool, in control. No psychotic episodes…yet. Which didn’t explain why Elliot never fully trusted him. Looking into those eyes was like looking into the maw of a rabid wolf. He kept waiting for those jaws to snap tight.

“Thanks, but Torrence doesn’t bother me.” Not that I’d let it show if she did. “Let her get back to work. If only she’d bleed a bit of that attitude onto the others. They work at a snail’s pace.”

McKinley nodded and faded back into the shadows. Where he belonged.

Elliot spent the next few hours comparing data, reviewing why they’d told Caitlyn to leave three years ago. At the time, she’d had no more to give them. Her hormonal secretions had tapered off. Her pheromones no longer worked on her command. Watching her interact in public, in another environment, should have given them more to work with. Instead, Caitlyn had become so normal. So disappointing.

Dismayed that the government had disbanded Project Dawn -- as if it were Elliot’s fault those idiot soldiers couldn’t process his evolutionary microbes -- he’d felt doubly betrayed by Caitlyn’s failure. Wanting to start fresh, they’d let her go and focused on his new, extremely promising subjects.

Still, he didn’t remember the specifics of Caitlyn’s release, or why they hadn’t brought her in since then for an annual follow-up.

Bemused, Elliot scrolled through his files and documents but found nothing.

Rubbing the back of his neck to work out the kinks, he typed a short note to Evan.

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop? How goes your progress with Caitlyn? She’s an exceptional girl. I assume her progeny will be as strong, if not stronger, than she is if she’s paired with a viable donor. Roane Weston would be my choice. Do let me know how things turn out.

Grinning at the image of poking Evan with a verbal stick, Elliot sent the message.

Finished with Caitlyn’s file, he studied the next viable Circ on his list. Until Caitlyn produced young, he truly had no further need of her. Not when there were four more successes he could count on. Oh, he had plenty of other Circs to watch as well. Other failures. He couldn’t explain how, but he knew when a subject would work and when one would be a problem. Except for Caitlyn, he’d never before been wrong.

Hell, he’d predicted the massive breakdowns of two-thirds of the first Recruits. The Pentagon hadn’t cared. Not until the Circs’ violent breakdowns had become public. Then Elliot had been routed as a troublemaker and wrongdoer. He huffed. If they’d let him add that genetic fail-safe, a debilitating cancer that would have killed his creations when activated, the defense department could have been spared the PR nightmare of hiding their defective Recruits. Unfortunately, they’d ignored him when they shouldn’t have and blamed him for everything.

So Elliot started a new Project Dawn with the support of powerful, rich backers. He still had problems to work out. What made some subjects stable while others rejected EP12?

Why couldn’t he fix the instability in his Circs once they became psychotic?

Working through those issues meant allowing his troubled Circs to interact with society. A necessary evil in order to see what would set them off and how to correct them, if he could correct them. Situations often grew bloody and then Circe’s Recruits would arrive to help defuse and contain the situation.

Thank you, Evan. Elliot rarely had to clean up his new messes by himself.

Contrary to what Evan thought, the Project’s Protection Agency never killed what Elliot created. They corralled. They shaped. They controlled.

They obeyed.

Elliot needed a force strong enough to meet the remaining Circe’s Recruits full-on, yet expendable enough to lose without harming his real treasures of the program. The subjects no one but he knew about. The four individuals who would change the course of the future.

For everyone.

Pleased with his vision, Elliot turned to one of his hidden cameras, locked on one of the newest Circ females breaking down. She wasn’t alone, nor was she pleased by the male on top of her. Elliot watched with interest, wondering why this one didn’t appreciate the opportunity to fornicate like the others had. Of course, Elliot had never before seen Vincent Hoff engage in such activities. Hoff liked it brutally rough, which actually fit with his personality. Usually it was Simon and a few of the other men who took advantage of the straps holding down the subjects.

As if Elliot didn’t know what really happened on the subbasement floor.

“McKinley, send Vincent up here when he’s done.”

“Done?”

“When he’s finished ejaculating into subject 29. Make sure he’s clean and presentable.” Elliot detested sloppiness, and his nose was especially sensitive to smells.

Silence.

Elliot glanced at the doorframe where McKinley had been standing.

“Back to the grindstone.” Elliot whistled, going over his notes and his steps leading to the Big Discovery. Then he read his secure e-mail messages, which shot his creative process all to hell.

* * * * *

Doc smiled. “I think you’ve finally got the hang of it.” After three weeks of constant practice, Caitlyn could now change at will. Though she couldn’t transform as fast as the others, she could determine how much of her body she changed, and she retained her enhanced senses when in her normal state, though to a lesser degree. If only she could control the sexual animal within her with such ease.

“Nice going.” Roane nodded his approval. He stood with Derrick and Doc in one of the enclosed laboratories as they watched her press four hundred pounds over her head.

“Like lifting a pillow,” she said with a growl, preening before her audience while the rational part of her wondered why she bothered. She had no need to prove herself to Derrick of all people. She had Roane’s attention already, and Doc was beside himself with enthusiasm when studying her. Derrick…he had yet to commit himself to Caitlyn, which bothered her on a fundamental level.

Both her “beast” -- as the guys called it -- and the woman inside still had to work out their differences. Caitlyn accepted the intensity of lovemaking with Roane, but the voraciousness of that need bothered her. Despite Roane’s ability to satisfy her every desire, she still fantasized about sex with some of the others. Confused and alarmed, she’d confided to Doc.

”Your beast instinctively seeks to control others with sex, hence your ability to overpower another with your pheromones,” he explained. “You’re as alpha as Roane, if you will permit the analogy.

“You have to understand. Roane and his men function as a unit. Their transformation into Circe’s Recruits connects them, obviously. But it was surviving the mating heat with one another that truly brought them together.”

“They bonded because of the sex?” She hoped, wanting to blame her other half for her unstable libido.

“In part. It only makes sense that you would need the same physical ties to enact the emotional ones.”

Doc didn’t see her “needs” as a problem. In fact, he’d advised her to talk to Roane about the situation. As if she’d go to the man who rocked her world on a daily basis and tell him she needed more when all she had to was think about Roane and she grew wet.

Admit your beast is a slut, her conscience demanded as she studied Roane out of the corner of her eye. Even now, you want to throw him to the ground and grind yourself over him.

“Concentrate, Caitlyn.” Roane frowned at her. “You’re becoming unbalanced.” More than you know. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold on to the pheromones that tended to waft from her when changed and around Roane for too long. Especially not with an unclaimed male standing so close.

Derrick swore and stepped away.

“Blame him.” She glared at Roane, who ignored her and pulled Doc with him out of the room. Shoot. She wouldn’t be able to hear them, thanks to the soundproof lab.

Caitlyn’s sudden aggression alarmed her. Shit, the beast is coming out to play again.

Roane, if you don’t get your ass in here soon, I’m going to jump Derrick. Much as she tried to remain in charge, part of Caitlyn wanted to let her beast have control, to give in to the impulses she normally held at bay when changed.

Frustrated, she tossed the weights to the floor and growled.

Derrick shook his head. “Pull it back in, honey. You’re making it hard to think past the steel in my dick. I don’t want to see what Roane will do to me if he comes in to find me fucking you against the wall.”

Caitlyn snarled, fighting her beast’s instincts. “Then get Roane back in here, now, before I take the choice from you.”

Derrick took a step toward her, straining. “Fuck. Caitlyn, tone it down.” His nostrils flared. “I’ll just go get Roane, okay?”

She didn’t understand what he meant until she realized the scent in the room had increased. She wanted to master Derrick, to force him to give over to her and concede his loyalty. To claim a part of the male as Roane had. Roane, her mate, the beast acknowledged with satisfaction. So why the hell did she want to fuck Derrick?

“Roane,” Derrick yelled, fisting his hands tight against the ripples along his skin. He fought the change, probably the only thing keeping them apart at this point. “Get your ass back in here, now.”

Caitlyn’s beast grinned, her sharp teeth eager to mark Derrick’s smooth brown flesh.

She liked the idea of him staying normal while she played with him. “Don’t change.” She shifted her scent, controlling him with it now that her beast was in charge. Panicked, she struggled against letting the wildness control her. But it was too late.

Derrick groaned, caught.