Circe's Recruits: Gideon: A Multiple Partner Shifter Book
Read Circe's Recruits: Gideon: A Multiple Partner Shifter Book Online
Authors: Marie Harte
Tags: #Paranormal Romance, #erotic romance, #LGBT, #multiple partners, #shapeshifters
Circe’s Recruits:
Gideon
by Marie Harte
Circe’s Recruits: Gideon
Neither human nor animal, but something in between. And these Circs are hungry…
When the government shut down the original Circ project, they ended the tampering of human genetics to create supersoldiers. Or so they thought. Not all the rogue scientists disappeared. Dr. Edwin Lang thinks he’s perfected his new serum. With EL13, his Circs will be stronger, more cunning, and psychic. A new breed of mercenaries that will fund his cutting edge science. The problem is his test subjects aren’t willing.
Gideon has lost his best friends, and his humanity, thanks to the good doctor. And he was no Boy Scout to begin with. He’ll do whatever it takes to bring the bastard down. He’s strong, and he’s hungry for revenge. With his pack of psychic beasts, he’ll destroy Lang and his team. The government can’t stop him. Neither can the first bunch of supersoldier Circs—Circe’s Recruits. He’s no Marine, just an ex-con who knows how to put the hurt on. He’ll deal with claws and fangs, enhanced senses, and a feral attraction for his male and female partners.
Because nothing will stop him from bringing the pain.
Warning: This book contains sexual content readers may find fascinating: group play, m/m/m, m/f, m+/f and more. Expect government conspiracies, underground fighters, genetic experiments, and Shifters unlike the kind you think you know. This book is
not
for the faint of heart. Enjoy!
CIRCE’S RECRUITS
Roane
Zack & Ace
Derrick
Hale
Gideon
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and plot points stem from the writer’s imagination. They are fictitious and not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Circe’s Recruits: Gideon
Copyright © November 2015 by Marie Harte
No Box Books
Cover by Tibbs Design
All Rights Are Reserved. None of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for reviews or promotion.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
OTHER PARANORMAL ROMANCE RELEASES
Chapter One
Gideon thought he’d known the risks. Underground fighting was dangerous, but the right bouts paid well. Determining weaknesses, building strategies, defeating opponents—totally his wheelhouse. But he’d made a mistake. He’d won too much, too fast. And he’d impressed the wrong people. He should have known the invite to a special tournament in Philly had been too good to be true. But he’d been swayed by his friends and that hefty bonus for attending.
The cold in the room didn’t bother him, despite the fact he only wore a pair of thin blue cotton pants that reached him mid-shin. They reminded him of hospital scrubs a short guy might wear. They never clothed him in anything but the same colored bottoms with an elastic waist, even when the temperature of the room would grow so cold he could see his breath.
Another needle slid under his skin, and he roared, his skin on fire, his blood already blazing from the crap they’d shoved into his body. Despite making him more resistant to injury, they continued to push his limits, working hard to scar him, to burn him, to fucking
kill him.
The douchebags who did the majority of the hands-on work hooked up tubes to the ports in his wrists. His blood left him in a hurry. The sterile lab where they’d imprisoned him could have been used as the standard for any mad scientist horror movie. Though clean of the blood spatter that had previously marred the white tiled floor—and God bless the bastard who’d been in here earlier—the entire room had been designed to collect samples from the unwilling.
Jars of tissue, organs, and different fluids lined the cabinets on the far wall. An array of sharp cutting instruments sat on the metal table next to his exam bed. Overhead lights blinded him when he lay flat, forced to stare at the ceiling. In the cabinets and drawers on the wall opposite the door, tons of restraints just waited to be used. Nothing so simple as ropes or chains. These fuckers used unbreakable steel alloys.
Drains under the tilting table onto which he’d been strapped collected whatever fluids didn’t run into the sterile bags hanging on the nearby wall. He could only be thankful they’d only gone for blood so far. At the thought of what else they might eventually want, he cringed, knowing it was only a matter of time.
Damn it, I have to get out of here.
A subtle glance around him showed white concrete-block walls, a cement floor, and one wide, metal door caging him. No windows, but a few cameras in the corner of the ceilings afforded viewers this macabre peep show. At the center of it all lay Gideon, strapped to a fucking tilt-a-whirl table.
They kept him horizontal until they wanted to drain him, four white-coat computer nerds typing his every reaction into their computers. He’d overheard a few of them refer to specialties in neuroscience, infection diseases, and bioengineering. Honestly, he couldn’t remember any more, bemused by all their science talk.
They tracked more than just his vitals. The electrodes notched to his temples worried the hell out of him, because he had a bad feeling they already knew he’d been abnormal prior to his abduction.
The nerds, though, he could handle. Once free of the table, he’d deal with the thick-necked guards standing sentry on either side of the secured door too.
The security in the place looked to be top notch, but nothing was infallible.
Doing his best to ignore the blood leaving his body, Gideon nearly vomited when they raised him from a horizontal to a vertical position. His wrists and ankles remained strapped to the table, in bands that had absolutely no give. Not even under the force of the super strength he now possessed.
“He’s healing much faster. Look.” Dr. Edwin Lang, the man in charge, vibrated with excitement as he handed his assistant a long, thick needle. Lang gave the appearance of a man of science. Intelligent blue eyes blazed behind dark glasses. His short, black hair was threaded with silver, and he wore a collared shirt and slacks under his white coat. Professional, smart, and scary as hell because he looked normal.
His assistant, on the other hand... Duane Smith held the needle Lang had given him like a prized treasure. Smith seemed to worship the ground Lang walked on. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties. Flat brown hair, flat brown eyes, average in every way, until one really looked at him and saw the crazy.
The hypodermic needle he held would have ripped through a regular person’s vein with ease. It was sharp and thicker than normal. Yet Smith had to work to pierce Gideon’s newly layered skin.
Gideon would have appreciated the epidermal armor they’d genetically mutated into him if it didn’t hurt so damn much when they tweaked him.
As it was, whatever they’d just injected him with made it suddenly hard to breathe. Fluid built up in his lungs and he coughed it out, unnerved to see a black, tar-like substance hit the floor while his lungs burned, starved for oxygen. Rumor had it the last guy to cough up the black stuff had died after turning into something…not quite right.
Freaked out but determined not to show it, Gideon held onto his sanity by a thread.
How had a simple no-holds-barred fight turned into a scene straight out of
Frankenstein
? And how long had he been here? Time in this horror show seemed endless. Had his friends cared that he’d disappeared? Were they in another room being tormented by other white coats?
He resisted the urge to give in to the pain and pass out. He wanted to strike back, to take out the half dozen assholes surrounding him. But strapped as he was to the upright table, he couldn’t do more than glare at the butchers bent on cutting him open. He did manage to contract the muscles in his arm to shove out one of the tubes. A weird ability he now possessed, to use his muscles to manipulate foreign objects in his body. He instinctively sensed what would harm him, yet it took a while for the toxins they injected him with to ooze out from his pores.
Freed from one of the tubes in his arm, his blood spattered in an arc over the coats and goggles of the two doctors conversing on his left. Everyone scrambled back while the tube danced around like a cobra about to strike. An alarm went off, loud and insistent.
He knew exposure to his fluids, when undergoing treatment, was a no-no, ever since the last assistant doused with a spray had convulsed and died within seconds of it hitting his eyes.
Gideon sneered at the scientists racing around, doing damage control. “You wanted my blood? You got it.”
The steel door hissed open, and two people in hazmat suits, accompanied by two more guards, entered.
Gideon’s brain clicked into high gear.
Assess the threat. Find a vulnerability. Attack.
A feral, inner voice suggested he rip out some throats and strangle the enemy by their own intestines. Not that Gideon didn’t agree with the sentiment, but that beastly voice scared him. Because it wasn’t his.
Sweat poured down his face while the hazmat guys caught the tube and plugged it up before the blood bag it had been attached to fully drained. Gideon’s arm didn’t need any repairing, though. Thanks to these douches, he healed at a rapid rate.
“What now, sir?” Smith asked, his expression grim. He gave Gideon a look that promised retribution, and the sadist knew how to wield a knife. Though Gideon no longer scarred, it still hurt like a bitch when Smith carved into him.
