She'd been so small, fleshy, and so incredibly feminine that he could feel himself getting hard again just thinking about her. The woman wasn't tall, maybe five-four or five-five. Her hair was a rich auburn color, a thick mane of red he wanted to see spread over his belly as she went down on him. Sheridan had a woman's build, the kind men dreamed of and other women secretly envied. Not slender, not fat, but curvy, with ripe breasts and an ass made for fucking. He'd noticed everything about her the minute she'd stepped into his cell.
And such heat. Her touch was soft, healing, full of fiery energy that pulled at his beast and made him salivate to taste. He'd noticed her full tits, those hard little nipples begging for a bite. Would they be as red as her hair, or the soft peach of her blush? Such creamy, fair skin contrasted with the dark richness of her hair. Yet he hadn't seen any freckles, nothing to mar that smooth, innocent flesh.
To say nothing of her angel's face. A mixture of innocence and sultry beauty, a soft allure that lingered long after she'd gone. Jules had slept with a lot of women in his time. Even before he'd turned Circ, he'd had a voracious appetite.
In the course of his years, he'd never seen a woman to match Ava Belle's beauty. Mrs. Sharpe's assistant had a mouth that wouldn't quit, but her beauty couldn't be denied. The dark-skinned woman had a face and body that could have made millions had she bothered to show them off.
Yet Ava had never intrigued him as much as the mysterious Sheridan did. And he couldn't help wondering why.
If the woman was in fact working for Montaña, then Jules was screwed, because he'd be damned if he could stop thinking about her.
Even when Montaña arrived the next day full of questions and rage that Jules had healed so fully and so quickly, even when he gave Jules a stronger beating despite Silva's emphatic screams to stop, Jules could only think of Sheridan and what she'd make of his new bruises. His beast grunted under Montaña's brutal fists. He didn't flinch when Silva shoved a heavy dose of another burning drug into his arm, nor did he fight when Montaña spoke in detail about Jules's team, about things he shouldn't possibly know.
Jules made a mental note, but his thoughts, and those of his beast, remained solely on the curvy redhead he couldn't seem to quit thinking about.
The Croatan National Forest, North Carolina
Frederik Gunnar Tersch ran his hands through his hair and growled as he paced in the large conference room of Circ central. He knew he probably looked like the Viking his team often called him. His blond hair had grown longer, and as he ran his hands through it, it probably resembled an unkempt pile of straw. At six-six, he normally looked down on everyone around him. But when he grew so out of control, he inadvertently let the beast slip. And now he'd gained a few more inches, enough to make the women around him nervous.
“Tersch, sit your ass down. You're making me dizzy,” Jesse Fallon growled, as anxious as the rest of them. His mate, Olivia, worried her lower lip, the sexy gesture one that usually would have Tersch teasing her, but right now, he had nothing to say.
He didn't care how dizzy Fallon felt. Jules, their team leader, the man who could always be relied on, a man he fucking loved but would never in a million years admit the emotion to anyone but himself, had been missing for six hellacious weeks.
“Gunnar, it'll be okay,” Ava murmured and sat next to Mrs. Sharpe, their boss.
Ava's soft hazel eyes looked at him with worry. Her light brown skin, which never failed to enthrall him, because it was so rich and so much darker than his own, seemed to ripple, as if she too fought a beast inside her. His Ava, a human woman he had no right to think about as much as he did.
But even she couldn't make this right. He lusted after the female with a hard-on that never ended and with an affection that had really started to concern him.
But she could never fill Jules's shoes. Hell, no one could.
“No, it won't be okay, Ava,” he said through gritted teeth, not wanting to take his frustrations out on her. He couldn't sit still. The urge to destroy had been building for days, weeks, but he'd kept ahold of himself. For Jules, because Jules would need the team intact to get him out of whatever hell he'd fallen into.
The anger, the rage, continued. He knew he had to contain it. While the others on his team had psychic abilities that helped, his harmed. Fallon could read minds; Olivia, emotions. Hayashi could see glimpses of the future—though Tersch still wasn't sure what the hell his mate Morgan Reynolds could do, other than annoy the piss out of him. And then there was Mrs. Alicia Sharpe, their boss. She was a mystery no one had solved, even after eight months of working for—not with—her.
“Alicia.” He snapped her name, never one to give respect where it hadn't been earned. Everyone else called her Mrs. Sharpe, at her insistence.
The petite black woman had beauty and a presence no one could deny. Too old for him, and too classy, he admitted, glaring at her calm presence as she sat in a black business suit, those damned pearls she never seemed to be without at her neck and earlobes. Just once he'd like to catch the damned woman in pajamas or sweats. But no, she never appeared with a hair out of place or dressed in anything not fucking appropriate.
Mrs. Sharpe sighed. “Gunnar, please. I know you're upset, but—”
“Upset? My team leader has been missing for six fucking weeks, and we're still sitting here with our thumbs up our asses!” he roared and felt his entire body pulse with the need to fully change, to fit into the monster that knew just what to do with all the hurt and anger. Becoming a Circ had only increased the strength of his inner beast. Whereas the others had mental abilities, Tersch's manifested themselves physically. A traumatic incident in his past had changed him, enabling him to channel his energy into raw strength. Even when not in his Circ form, he could do some serious damage.
Tersch tried to control himself but had a hard time thinking past the haze of fury swelling in his blood. Jules needed him. Right. Now. “Why the hell are Morgan and Hayashi in Brazil when they should be here, working with us to find Jules?”
“Easy,” Fallon said.
“Fuck easy! I should be there. Let me search the jungle. I guaran-damn-tee I'll find Jules or beat the answers out of those who know where he is.” Jules would have calmed him down. Jules would have known how to handle him.
Olivia answered him quietly. “You know why they're there, Gunnar. Kisho had a vision of himself and Morgan with Jules. We just have to be patient.” She put out a hand, and he jerked back, out of reach of the empath.
He was sick to death of being patient, of waiting, of never being in control when it mattered. He was failing Jules; he fucking knew it. Just like he'd failed other important people in his life. He refused to let it happen again. “I'm going,” he announced and turned on his heel.
Fallon darted in front of him to block his way and ducked the fist Tersch threw.
“Gunnar, stop,” Olivia cried.
He wanted to, but he couldn't.
“Hell. Ladies, get out of here,” Fallon yelled as he avoided another blow and shredded through his clothes to transform into a larger, predatory beast with claws, fangs, and toughened skin.
Tersch was barely aware of it, but his beast also rose swiftly to the surface. He didn't want to fight, but he had to. He needed this as much as he needed to breathe.
He ripped off his shirt and changed fully into his beast, stretching the elasticity of his pants. “I'm my own man. I go where I want,” he growled, worry for Jules pushing him to act. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the women leave the room.
“This is for your own good,” Fallon muttered.