Fallon's Flame

Chapter Four

“So, Olivia, do you come from a large family?” Kisho asked as they sat around the table.

Kisho, Gunnar, and Jules sat across the table from her, while Ava and Mrs. Sharpe sat on either side of her. Melissa and Jack had retired to their cottage for the night. Jesse remained conspicuously absent, much to Mrs. Sharpe's voiced irritation.

“My parents died when I was young. I grew up with my aunt and uncle and a bevy of cousins. All boys, so I know how to deal with you people,” she warned, pointing her fork in Gunnar's direction.

He grinned and continued to eat the mountain of food on his plate. Pot roast, roasted potatoes, cooked beets, and green beans filled her belly, but she hadn't made close to a dent in her plate as compared to the men around her. Ava also consumed a vast amount of food for such a small woman.

“Yeah, well, we all know women are nothing but trouble. Sad but true,” he said before Ava could contradict him.

Mrs. Sharpe favored him with a patronizing grin. “Ah, the innocence of youth.” Jules snorted. “True. Tersch has the mentality of a four-year-old, but you can't be that old, Mrs. Sharpe.”

She shrugged prettily, maintaining that air of mystery Olivia was coming to associate with the woman. “We do what we can, Jules. A woman's secrets should never be revealed.” The way she tilted her head tugged again at Olivia's memory. “Have we met before, Mrs.

Sharpe?”

The table quieted.

“No, I don't believe we have,” the older woman said softly, her gaze intent. “Why do you ask?”

Olivia wished she could remember. “No reason. Déjà vu, I guess.”

“No such thing,” Ava cut in. “Just repressed memory is all. Ask Kisho about it.” She turned to Kisho, who regarded her with a soberness in keeping with his quiet at the table.

“One thing you'll find the longer you're here is that there are forces at work in the world we cannot begin to understand.”

“Here we go. I hate when he goes all Zen on us,” Gunnar muttered.

Kisho ignored him. “Many of us here have a special ability. I can see glimpses of potential tomorrows.”

Olivia stared at him, wide-eyed, but didn't discount him. Truth felt like a warm blanket, much like what she felt from him now. “Isn't that dangerous? If you know too much, you could directly influence something you weren't meant to.”

Mrs. Sharpe beamed. “I told you she'd understand.”

“You don't discount the possibility of prognostication?” Kisho asked.

“No. I spent a lot of time in the jungles of Brazil in my youth. My family is dedicated to preserving the rain forest, and you wouldn't believe half the stuff that lives in there—things regular people would call impossible.”

“Like what?” Jules interrupted.

“Like plants that heal. Like animals that shouldn't exist but do. There are rumors of mystics living deep in the heart of the Amazon. It sounds like a fantasy, but when I was little, my aunt filled my head with stories.” She smiled. “I can't convince myself it was all fiction.”

“Sometimes the unexplained is more fun,” Ava agreed. “And sometimes it's a pain in the ass. Like the mystery of why men can't quite find the hamper two feet from their dirty clothes.

Or why there are always five million soda cans littering the counters, when the recycle bin is just under the sink. Or why—”

“Ava helps around the house,” Mrs. Sharpe explained with a hint of a smile. “Not that I can fault her. Those are mysteries that used to keep me up late at night.” Hinting that the woman used to be married, maybe? Or that now that she had Ava to help, she didn't need to worry about such matters anymore?

“But that aside, I had hoped we could talk tonight about your upcoming trip to Brazil.” She glared at the seat next to her, the one Fallon should have filled. “Jules, you can catch him up, after I talk to him.”

Jules sighed and nodded.

“Gentlemen, Olivia, in two weeks, the five of you will be traveling into the heavily touristed area of Trindade in the Brazilian state of Bahia.”

“But if it's tourist heavy, why do you need me? If your contact is there, he'll probably speak English,” Olivia said.

“When you meet our contact, you'll have to speak the language to pass on the instructions he'll give you. Gatito doesn't trust outsiders.”

“What? I'm not some type of operative. I'm here as a linguist. Linguists work with headphones, behind a desk.”

“Mrs. Sharpe, I have to agree.” Jules frowned. “Taking a civilian into danger makes no sense.”

“Damn, Alicia. Even for you, this is a bit much,” Tersch added.

Ava said nothing, but her expression said she agreed with Tersch.

Mrs. Sharpe waited. “Are you all finished? I am in possession of information you don't have and don't yet need. Jules, I would never endanger your lives, or Olivia's, were it not absolutely necessary. And remember, I have the admiral's go-ahead on this. Do you really think he'd risk her—or you—in any way if it weren't absolutely necessary?

“I need a woman who speaks like a native, one who can tell a truth from a lie.” Olivia froze. “What?”

“Come now, Olivia. Kisho's been forthcoming. The others will be as well. They need to know what you can do.”

“That has no bearing on any of this,” Olivia said stiffly. She hated the curiosity, the suspicion. She'd seen it too many times before—the very reason she kept her abilities secret.

“Oh but it does. I didn't need just any linguist; I needed you. Just you, Olivia Lynn.” The surety of Mrs. Sharpe's words spooked Olivia into confessing the truth.

“It's no big deal.” She shrugged. “I'm an empath.”

“You read emotions?” Ava asked, curiosity but no scorn in her voice.

“I feel them. And truth feels warm. When people are near, and when I touch them, I can usually feel what they feel. If they're lying, I can tell. But I don't read thoughts or anything like that.”

Jules nodded. “I see why you wanted her here. But I still don't like the idea of bringing an untrained civilian into danger.”

Mrs. Sharpe shook her head. “I understand that, but Olivia is not as helpless as you might think. I've also been considering using her for another reason altogether, as a control.”

“Excuse me?” Olivia asked.

Kisho frowned. “This sounds all too familiar. We heard the same things at Pearson Labs.”

“You know, Alicia, that place that imprisoned us for a year? The one that performed experiments where they drugged us and turned good men rogue?” Gunnar added harshly.

“Tersch,” Jules warned.

“This isn't the same thing,” Mrs. Sharpe asserted. “The laboratory you are going to find and destroy in the jungles of Brazil has cultivated a drug derived from a special plant found only in a particular section of the rain forest. Circs are immune to its effects, on purpose, I suspect.

Normal people are put into a state of almost catatonia, unable to do anything but obey. It's information gathering at its best.”

“So you need Olivia as a control. For what purpose?”

“I need to see what it does to a psychic mind.”

“No way. Sorry, Mrs. Sharpe, but I didn't sign on to be a guinea pig.” Was the woman off her rocker?

“You don't understand, Olivia. I wouldn't inject you without a counteragent ready. We know that this drug has already been used to ferret out national secrets from a few members of the government the admiral is currently working to contain. These men not only told everything they knew; they predicted future events before dying of brain aneurysms within twenty-four hours of being dosed. But a team of scientists worked on decoding the serum. We now have a viable antidote.”

Jules scowled. “One that's been tested?”

“Yes. Those infected with the drug recovered in minutes after being inoculated with the antidote, with no lingering side effects. The problem is—” She paused and narrowed her gaze on Olivia. “I shouldn't need to repeat that what is said in this room does not go beyond these walls.” Olivia nodded. Who would believe her anyway? Truth serums had always been out there, but not ones that gave people ESP or controlled minds. Science fiction and fantasy, not a military reality.

“The problem is,” Mrs. Sharpe continued, “that a branch of the Defense Department has been working on developing psychic soldiers. We have a bad feeling this drug was invented as a direct threat to stop Admiral London's progress with his new division.”

“So that's why the admiral dumped us. He's got new toys to play with.” Gunnar speared a piece of meat and shoved it into his mouth.

Ava glared at him. “The admiral didn't dump you. He was forced to take over this other project so that what happened to you doesn't happen to them.”

“Ava.” Mrs. Sharpe shook her head. “That's not a discussion we need to have right now.

What Admiral London is doing is important, just as important as what you all are going to do.” Olivia's head was spinning. “Hold on a minute. Let's start at the beginning. Exactly who the hell are you people? And what's this about labs and psychic research?” She glanced at the three unflinching faces across from her, then turned to Mrs. Sharpe. “If you want me to help you, I need to know what you know.”

“Good luck with that,” Gunnar said under his breath.

“Have you ever heard of Project Dawn?” Mrs. Sharpe asked.

Olivia blinked in surprise. “Yes, actually. A little over a year ago, there was some huge scandal with a senator and some military bigwigs associated with Project Dawn. I remember because my division heads moved all over the place trying to plug holes in the rumor mill.

Stories about super soldiers and genetic research gone bad. More science fiction…” She trailed off, until she realized the men she stared at could easily fit the description of the Circs she'd heard so much about.

“Not fiction,” Jules admitted. “My team is the second generation of super soldiers. We're called Circs, after the Circe serum used to change our genetic code.” He shared a look with Mrs.

Sharpe. “Basically, we're stronger, faster, and more lethal than the sailors and soldiers you know.”

“And we kick jarhead ass,” Gunnar added with a toothy smile. “Tell that to Roane the next time you see him,” he said to Mrs. Sharpe.

Confused, Olivia asked, “Who's Roane?”

Mrs. Sharpe rolled her eyes at Gunnar. “He's the team leader for the original batch of Circs, a group of U.S. Marines. And a digression. Olivia, this team was put together to stop scientific research gone wrong. The intent of Dawn Endeavor is to stop rogue science from hurting the men and women who defend our country. The original Project Dawn was compromised. The lead scientist manipulated good people, turning some into monsters and others into brutal killers. And others”—she paused to indicate Jules and the others—“into weapons for good.

“Now we do our best to make sure Dawn Endeavor functions as the initial project was originally intended, to help our government. If we don't find and destroy this new biological weapon, we'll lose not only a new resource at our disposal—namely those psychic warriors fighting for us—but we'll also chance giving the enemy vital insights into our nation. Imagine what they could learn from men of power in our government? Not only national secrets but foresights we couldn't help to combat.”

A real problem. “So you want me to work with this team of supermen,” she said slowly, her eyes on the Circs, “and let myself get infected with this drug to see if it hurts me the way it did them.”

“Yes.”

“Do I need to die to prove it works?” she asked drily.

“Not at all. We'll bring you back to safety and extract you from Bahia before the team takes out the lab. Once here, under proper supervision, you'll be dosed with the drug. If you begin to have visions, which we know isn't a part of your skill set, we'll inject you with the antidote.”

“I'm sorry, but I need time to think about this.”

“Me too,” Jules growled. “We're not using Olivia to test some drug that kills people. Bad enough you want us to walk her into danger.”

“It's a lot to process,” Mrs. Sharpe agreed, ignoring Jules. “Why don't you take a walk outside? The path is lit, so you should have no trouble seeing during the dark. You'd be surprised, but the back gardens are particularly pleasant this time of year, despite the cold. The mums and pansies are bearing up just fine.”

Blinking at the mundane mention of flowers after hearing about psychic warfare and unbelievable Circs, Olivia pushed back from the table. “You know, maybe I will.” Ava moved to go with her when Mrs. Sharpe shook her head. “Let Olivia have some time to herself.”

Jules gave the woman a look Olivia couldn't decipher. But she suddenly needed some space. She left wondering why the hell she'd wished for so much excitement. It seemed her days of being bored were totally numbered.

Fallon watched Olivia stroll through the garden, her hands tucked into the pockets of the formfitting jacket she wore. Her hair had started to come free from the clasp holding it back, framing her face with delicate strands of dark silk.

So much for getting this need to touch her out of his system. At least he'd dealt with his more pressing need to handle his beast. The run he'd taken had soothed his wild urge to mate, which made no sense. Too much Circ sex lately, perhaps.

Wanting to at least spend some time with Olivia that didn't involve stalking or staring through trees, he raced back to the woods where he'd left his clothes, changed back, and put them on. Then after hurrying through the house and skirting the dining area, he joined her again outside.

She turned when he opened the door and shut it behind him. “What are you doing out here?”

“I figured I'm in enough trouble for missing dinner. Mrs. Sharpe is a stickler for punctuality.”

“She wasn't happy you missed the meal.”

Her troubled gaze bothered him. He stuck his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't be able to reach out and offer comfort. “You okay?”

She regarded him with more than curiosity, but a sense of unease.

“Hell. She told you about us.”

She nodded.

He swore under his breath. “Didn't think she would yet. So you know…what?”

“That you're some kind of super soldier.”

“Sailor. Super sailor. We're SEALs.”

Olivia gifted him with a small grin. “Go navy.”

“Yeah.”

“So you guys are really strong and fast. And it seems you're all psychic too.”

“Like you,” he reasoned, aware he still couldn't read her. “Most of us had weird abilities before Circs ever existed. The Circe serum just enhanced them. I'm telepathic, but you're closed to me.”

“Oh, wow. Kisho said he can see the future. But I didn't know about the rest of you.”

“Jules sees auras. Tersch is a battle maniac. We call him our own berserker.”

“That fits.”

“What about you?” He took a few steps closer, careful not to spook her. The fear he'd seen on her face bothered him. Fallon wanted her aware of him, not scared of him.

She flushed. “I can sense emotions.”

“An empath. Cool.”

“But not around you.” She frowned. “This is going to sound forward, but can I touch you?” His heart raced. “As if I'll say no.”

She didn't smile. Instead she stepped closer and took his larger hand in her own. The touch electrified him, but it put him no closer to reading her.

Huge blue-green eyes blinked up at him. “I can't tell what you're feeling at all. This is amazing!”

“Good or bad?” he asked huskily, closing his hand around hers. Her skin felt so soft under his calloused palm. This close, he could smell a lingering scent of flowers, either her perfume or shampoo. Her head fit under his chin, and he knew if he angled closer, he could pull her into his embrace and feel her hot breath on his chest.

“G-good,” she stammered, caught in his stare.

He wanted to know what she thought as she looked at him, but not knowing was an enticement all its own. “I'm sorry about this, but I can't stop myself.”

“From what?”

He lowered his head, waiting for her to try to bolt. When she remained still, he gentled his hold and savored the first press of her lips under his. So perfect, so goddamn right. She closed her eyes, thick lashes fanning her rosy cheeks as she responded, ever so slowly, to his touch.

Tentative yet open, she blossomed under his mouth and turned him rock hard in a heartbeat. He slid his tongue inside and groaned as her flavor burst on his tongue.

Her hands crept around his neck and pulled him closer. And then, without knowing how, he lost control of the kiss. The shy woman in his arms turned into a firecracker. She opened her mouth and teased his tongue closer, capturing his flesh and demanding a heady response. He rocked into her, wanting to feel the wetness he could sense building between her legs.

She held his hair tight and nipped at his lower lip.

“Fuck,” he said on a breath as he looked down at her.

Dewy eyed, rosy lipped, and flushed. So damned sexy.

He lowered his mouth again and let her have her way as she buried her hands in his hair.

The damned jacket she wore impeded his touch, and he slashed through it without thought, needing to put his hands on her naked breasts.

As if thinking it, he made it happen. Her shirt gaped, and her bra fell apart under a well-placed claw. Then his hands were full of her, the weight of her globes and the press of her taut nipples like lightning, setting off the fire of lust within.

“I need to be inside you, right now,” he rasped and traced a hand down her belly and under her skirt.

The thin triangle of her panties proved no barrier as he slid a his hand beneath the material and between her legs. Shoving his tongue inside her mouth again, he speared her with a finger, enticed by the feminine heat coating him. So tight, so hot. She fit his finger as if made for him, and he loved her responsiveness.

Olivia dripping wet was a fantasy come to life. Thoughts of how little he actually knew this woman paled in comparison to the lust riding him hard.

He wanted to impale her, to come inside her as many times as he could, then to change and do it all again.

The rabid thought slowed him down, and he knew he'd have to corral the beast. This time.

But he wanted more. Had to have more.

She tore her mouth from his. “Oh God. What are you doing to me?” She gasped and groaned when he grazed her clit.

He pinched a nipple, then circled to the other. Bending down, he took the ripe fruit in his mouth and sucked.

She cried out and squirmed in his hold, surging against his steely cock. Hungry to feel her all around him, he knew he'd come in seconds if he took down his pants. Instead he lingered on her breasts and pussy, laving her nipple with hunger before knowing he had to have more.

He withdrew his hands and knelt in front of her before she could protest. After tearing her skirt, he then ripped through her panties and shoved his face into her groin. The scent of her heat went straight to his head, and he prodded her thighs wider. Latching onto her full clit, he devoured her.

Encouraged by her desperate cries, he plunged a finger inside her, thrusting the way he intended to with his cock. Her walls clung to him, and she pressed her hips closer, pulling at his hair with a desperation that soothed his beast. His mate desired him. Wanted him.

He nipped at her clit and shoved his tongue inside her, stretching to fill her as much as he could.

She keened and rippled around him, coming hard into his mouth.

He continued to caress her, enamored with the scent and taste of the woman he knew, on a fundamental level, to be his. She satisfied the part of him that was always empty. Even his beast wanted her, to know all of Olivia, to possess her.

She shivered above him; whether from the cold or an excess of passion, he couldn't say. He rose to his feet, ignoring the discomfort of unanswered arousal. As much as he wanted to come inside her, the confusion and wariness on her face told him now was not the time.

“Easy, baby. I've got you.”

She continued to stare at him, slowly warming when he took her in his arms.

“I guess I'm easy, huh?” she said on a half laugh.

“Not at all. Tasty, though.”

She blushed and nestled her cheek against his chest, the gesture more intimate than what they'd just done.

Fallon couldn't explain it. He didn't believe in love at first sight. Had never been emotionally attached to any woman but his mother, and she'd passed long ago. He liked women; hell, he loved fucking them. But this, holding Olivia while his body throbbed in abject misery, had to be the best thing he'd experienced in a long, long time.