Marie Harte - Fallon's Flame

She forced herself to show no expression, but the narrowing of Kisho's eyes told her she hadn't been totally successful. She subtly withdrew her hand from his larger one and stepped back. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He turned to Mrs. Sharpe. “What else can I do for you?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

They watched Kisho leave, and another man took his place. This one stood almost as tall as the blond but seemed even more commanding. He had to be their leader. Dark haired, but with light gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing, he looked every inch a warrior.

“Ah, Jules. Olivia, this is Julian Hawkins, the team leader. Jules, this is the translator I was telling you about.”

Jules didn't speak. He looked at her with an intensity she found unnerving. Like the others, he had muscles galore, height, and hands that could crush her in seconds. The knowledge was there in his eyes. He knew he was dangerous, and he wanted her to know it as well.

“Interesting.” The way he said it made her aware that he looked at her with more than his eyes. He didn't ogle, not exactly. His energy, like the others', expressed hunger. But he had that need tightly bound under a well of curiosity.

“Jules?” Mrs. Sharpe raised a brow and fingered her pearl necklace.

“She'll do. Nice to meet you, Olivia.” He turned and left, then returned with another man he forcibly pushed into the room. “Suck it up. We all hurt,” he murmured before leaving them alone with this last man.

Olivia had remained standing after being introduced to Kisho. Now she wished she'd been sitting. Her breath left her in a rush when she looked into eyes as brown as warm amber. Short, dark hair framed a masculine face that would make men envious and have women falling all over themselves for a closer look.

A straight nose, square jaw, arched brows, and thick lashes arranged themselves into a face she couldn't look away from. He had bronzed skin, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and firm lips. She had to look up to see him, putting him several inches taller than her own five-eleven. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a trim waist sat above long, powerful legs encased in jeans. Like the others, he didn't wear shoes.

He appeared clean shaven, but when she continued to stare at him, she thought she saw a trace of darker skin along his cheeks and neck.

“This is Jesse Fallon,” Mrs. Sharpe said with unmistakable satisfaction. “Jesse, meet Olivia Lynn, our new translator.”

He opened his mouth, and she swore she saw a hint of…fangs? She took a step nearer, needing to see, needing to feel the fan of his breath on her face, to taste the intriguing scent of mint filling the space between them. Her nipples hardened, and her womb quickened. She licked her lips and leaned closer.

“Gotta go.” He jerked backward and stumbled over his feet in his haste to leave the office.

Olivia had to blink to free herself from his spell. Embarrassed that she'd sent him running from the room, she turned to Mrs. Sharpe, expecting the woman's dismissal. Nearly jumping her coworker couldn't have put Olivia in a favorable light.

Instead she found Mrs. Sharpe wearing a wide smile. “Welcome to the team, my dear. I'll call Ava and get you settled in for the night. Any questions?”

Olivia closed her mouth around a hint of mint. She took a deep breath and realized she hadn't caught anything Jesse had been feeling. Interesting, to say the least. “Ah no, no questions.” Except for where my mind has gone. Because I really want a look at that Jesse again.

Whoa. Wait. Remember, Olivia, you're here to work as a translator, not a mattress.

“Good. I'll have Ava show you to your room, and we'll get the ball rolling.” As Mrs. Sharpe put events into motion, Olivia wondered just what she'd gotten herself into.

The four men she'd met could have posed on any Special Forces poster. Yet they lived in a mansion away from the military base and worked for a civilian woman, a tiny lady who wore a designer suit and pearls. Talk about stepping into wonderland.

Fallon didn't care what the hell Jules had ordered. If he didn't fuck someone soon, he was going to explode. That hot piece of ass in Sharpe's office hadn't helped matters at all. She'd only made them worse.

Giving in to his inner beast, he raced from the office toward the gym, where he could smell traces of the others. Normally they had a harsh workout after suffering from the burdensome arousal. But not tonight. Arousal rode his beast hard. He could scent the same lust from the others in the air. Pheromones called, luring him with the promise of surcease.

As he moved, he stripped until he wore nothing at all, and changed —that unfortunate side effect from the Circe serum, the ability to change into an altered state. While as a man, Fallon had enhanced vision and hearing and could heal quickly; as a beast, he could do so much more.

He grew several inches in height and breadth as his muscles and bones expanded. His hair grew, his skin hardened, and he developed fangs and claws capable of annihilating an opponent.

The change no longer hurt after three years of constant shifting, but the mating heats were getting worse. The virus that genetically mutated him into another form altogether turned him into a Circ, a creature with the need to make more of its own kind. With Doc Dennis's drugs, they'd been able to suppress the mating heat. But now that Sharpe had ordered them to stop taking them, the heat was back, and worse.

A Circ could only find sexual satisfaction from another Circ. Fallon could fuck all day and all night long, but only another Circ could give him relief from the need to procreate. Male or female—it didn't matter. He needed his own kind to ease the ache building in his balls.

He hurried down the corridor, the scent of the others drawing him near.

The first generation of Circe's Recruits had been able to overcome the mating heat by finding mates. That those guys had managed to find females with Circ genes at all amazed him.

Fallon had no such hope for himself, not after fighting so many rogue Circs and mutants, aftereffects from Elliot Pearl's mad-scientist experiments. There didn't appear to be any available female Circs left standing. Which sucked, big-time.

Though he didn't prefer men if given the choice, he viewed sex with them as a necessity to still the voracious sexual hunger that gnawed at him.

Need, must have her, his inner beast growled. He'd learned to trust the ingrained instincts that came with being a Circ, but he thought maybe this time his libido had fried his senses.

Her? What “her”? He hadn't seen a female Circ since his last trip up north. And those females were totally off-limits. His inner beast made little sense, but Fallon knew he'd put his sexual need off as long as he could.

He shoved through the gymnasium doors into instant darkness. In the time it took his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, a hard, naked body knocked him to the ground. He sensed Jules before he smelled him. Their team leader had a psychic feel different from the others. A sweltering sense of power that tempted too easily.

“Come here.” Jules grunted. His eyes glowed like shimmering diamonds. Long black hair hung over his shoulders and covered Fallon as he looked up at his leader. Fangs glinted, but before Jules could bite him, Fallon shoved him aside, brushing against his slick cock.

Another aspect to being Circ. In the changed state, a male Circ emitted natural oils to lubricate his erection to facilitate sex. It looked like Jules planned on coming in him first.

A glance over Jules's shoulder showed Tersch and Hayashi, both naked and changed , fighting for dominance. The Circ mating dance, they liked to joke. Blood and sex often went hand in hand. Violence, for their inner beasts, was nothing more than a test to determine the worthy.