Hayashi's Hero

Chapter Three

Three days later

“I don't see him. Oh, wait. There he is,” Fallon murmured as he squinted.

The hour had passed two in the morning. The team sat at a picnic table on a small wooden deck overlooking the ocean. They watched through the darkness, across the waterway, studying the outer deck of a seedy bar. Under the light of a full moon, Morgan Reynolds finessed answers out of a smuggler wanted on several counts of robbery and extortion in the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida.

From their distance, no one would think them able to see anything of importance in the seedy bar on the waterfront. Except Circs could do what normal men couldn't. At this hour of night, sound intensified in the absence of so many people, sheltered inside from the biting wind.

The roar of the ocean swelled around them, mirroring their frustration.

“Hard to miss him and that big mouth of his,” Tersch muttered.

Jules quirked a smile. “Jealous of his apparent charm with Ava?”

“Of him? Yeah, right.” Tersch huffed, but Kisho shared a wide smile with the others.

“What are you shits laughing at?”

“Nothing.” Kisho didn't want Tersch to feel bad, but honestly, the man wore his jealousy for the entire world to see. “I don't think you need to worry about Ava. I don't sense a huge attraction there.”

Tersch gaped and sat up straight. “Are you kidding? I saw Reynolds come out of her room at one in the morning. What the hell do you think they're talking about that late?”

“Yeah, but have you smelled him on her?” Fallon asked.

“Well, no. Not yet.” Tersch clenched his hand into a fist. “But when I do…”

Kisho rolled his eyes. “He's flirting with her to piss you off.”

“It'd be just like Ava to encourage him,” Jules offered, then asked, “What do you guys make of him?”

Fallon frowned. “It's only been a few days, but the women seem to love him. I can't read him, and Olivia said it's like there's a huge wall around his emotions. Doesn't bother her, though.

Just adds to some stupid appeal she says he has.” He snorted. “'Charming' isn't a psychic trait, nor is it a word I'd use with that dick.”

“Amen,” Tersch agreed.

Jules's lips flattened. “I can't read him either.”

Kisho blinked. “No aura?”

“No, it's weird. Even Mrs. Sharpe projects, but it's like he's holding back.”

“On purpose?” Kisho knew some people had shields, or so Jules had told him. Even Fallon couldn't read everyone, nor could Olivia, though their exceptions seemed few and far between.

Jules shook his head. “I don't know. I do know Mrs. Sharpe hired him.” Tersch frowned. “Keeping our distance isn't working. We need to get closer to the bastard and see what he's up to. Just because he might get us a few steps closer to Delancey doesn't mean he's golden.”

Kisho nodded in agreement, focused on the scene half a mile away across the curved beach. Despite the dozens of criminals mingling around the seedy bar, Reynolds didn't look at all afraid or worried. In fact, he looked as if he fit in with the seedy element. Too bad the association didn't make him look any less attractive.

The sudden silence around Kisho suddenly penetrated. He glanced back to see his team looking at him. “What?”

“Reynolds seems to like you well enough.” Jules raised a brow in question.

Kisho could feel his cheeks heat but refused to look away. “No, he doesn't.” Fallon nodded. “Yes, he does. He doesn't project, but his eyes don't lie. The big dude might have a thing for Ava, but he's definitely got a thing for you, too.” Not what Kisho needed to hear. It was hard enough to pretend an indifference to the man.

“Big deal. So he's gay.”

“You think he's gay?” Tersch sounded way too happy about the idea.

Jules sighed. “Just lead him on a little, Hayashi. Let him think you're okay with his attention. Find out what he's hiding.”

Kisho blinked. “Are you shitting me?” They wanted him to flirt, to sexually encourage a man for information?

Tersch surprised him. “Oh come on. We fuck each other all the time. I know he's not as fine as I am, but take one for the team, buddy.”

He didn't know what to say. Did they know he was gay? Was this his opening to come clean? Or were they hoping to simply use Reynolds's interest in Kisho for their gain and nothing more?

“I, ah…”

“I need to know what he's not telling us,” Jules said quietly. “Something's not right with him. For all we know, he's a part of this Delancey conspiracy.”

“I don't think—”

“Don't think. Just find out what he's hiding,” Jules encouraged and said nothing more.

Fallon nodded. But Tersch's mild acceptance of the idea capped it. There was something more to all this than a need for information.

“What the hell is going on?”

Before anyone answered, Tersch pointed at the bar. “Well, would you look at that?” They were too far away to give Reynolds immediate help if his informant turned on him, but Reynolds had preferred they keep their distance. Now it looked like he might need them.

Two brawny men wearing sleeveless denim jackets—in the coldest month of the year—grabbed his arms. Reynolds's informant leaned closer and shoved a fist into his stomach.

To Kisho's surprise, Reynolds didn't flinch. He smiled that sexy grin that looked like a lethal dare. When Reynolds's informant brought his arm back for a second punch, Reynolds moved.

Like lightning, he knocked the men flanking him into each other and blocked the informant's punch. Then he kicked one thug down and punched the other in the face. Even at this distance, Kisho recognized a broken, bloody nose.

Reynolds grabbed his informant by the back of his neck and whispered something into his ear.

The team watched as the grubby asshole nodded as if his head were on strings and apologized profusely.

“I'll be damned. Your boy can fight,” Fallon murmured.

“He's not my boy,” Kisho snapped, but he couldn't help feeling pride that Morgan had held his own. And that made no sense. Morgan was nothing to him. So why did his beast purr at the thought of the man defeating those weaker than himself? Not Morgan. Reynolds. Keep your distance.

“Fucker can fight,” Tersch offered. “I definitely think it's time we took a closer look at him. I don't like how close he's been getting to Ava and Olivia.” Jules nodded. “I want you to stick to him like glue, Hayashi.”

“Why me?”

The look Jules gave him made him more than uncomfortable. “Just do it. Think of it as an order, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn't.”

Tersch chuckled. “Good to know I'm not the only one you're always screwing with, Jules.” Their conversation turned to Delancey while they waited for Reynolds— Hell, now I'll have to call him Morgan—to rejoin them.

Kisho caught Jules's gaze and noted that his eyes glinted with rage. The man had a major beef with their old commander. Kisho thought Jules had a personal stake in taking the man down, because Jules blamed himself for believing in his old boss. Kisho, Fallon, and Tersch had followed Jules's lead into the Circ experiment. Not because of Delancey, but because they believed in Jules. And they'd nearly been killed because of it.

Kisho couldn't count how many of his friends and fellow sailors had died, some from a toxic reaction to the Circe serum, others from the madness that inevitably encroached on the serum survivors, while others had turned into mutants—Circs that no longer resembled anything human and had the mental capacity of nothing more than savage beasts. There was still no understanding as to why Kisho and his team had made it. Nor could anyone adequately explain why Circe's Recruits, who lived with Doc in Jersey, had come through happy and healthy. And now all the lucky bastards had mates, while the threesome had a kid and were close to giving birth to the second natural-born Circ in history. Mind-boggling.

He wondered what would become of him, if he'd ever find that same happiness the others had found. Watching Fallon with Olivia was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Kisho couldn't be happier for Fallon. The man deserved a woman to love him, and Kisho had no doubt that Olivia loved her husband beyond words. But their closeness only emphasized how out of place Kisho was. He'd never find a woman to love him, because he didn't want a woman to love him.

He wanted a partner, a male he could respect, love, and who would be his and his alone.

Kisho remembered the conversation as if they'd had it yesterday. “Gays don't belong in the military, son. But that's not a problem for you, is it?” The knowing, disapproving look in his dad's eyes had forced Kisho to answer with an untruth. At seventeen and needing to hold on to the acceptance he'd only just discovered with his newfound father, he hadn't thought twice. He'd lied, and continued to lie, to hold on to those he loved.

“Right?” Tersch punched his shoulder.

“Ow. What?”

“I said, that vision you told us about. Delancey was there at the lab in Brazil. You remember—the one they emptied before we could get there? So what else have you seen lately?” Kisho rubbed his temple. “Not much. It's been murky. Mrs. Sharpe is pushing me to focus.” But her efforts gave him nothing but headaches. Because every time he tried to see the future, Morgan Reynolds's annoying face popped up. As quickly as he'd spy Morgan, Kisho would shut down, not wanting to dwell on a future where his team would reject him before he'd die, alone, unhappy, and in a great deal of pain.

Jules frowned. “I hate to push, but we need to know as much about Delancey's involvement as we can. We know he's somehow tied to the group trying to take out Admiral London's new project.” The psychic warriors who were to be the next step in warfare's evolution.

“What you might not realize is that the project has found success in a few other not-so-friendly places. We don't get on board fast, we're screwed.”

Kisho blinked. “How do you know?”

“Admiral London and I had a conversation the other day. The Chinese are already doing some impressive work, and the Russians aren't far behind. Strangely enough, South America has their own consortium. A handful of countries working together.” Fallon frowned. “Why would they join forces? I mean, what are the odds Brazil is going to bow to Venezuela or Ecuador? Got to be one guy pulling those strings. Like Delancey, maybe?”

“So why does he choose a drug lord from Venezuela to run his 'army?'” Tersch grumbled.

“Why not choose an in-house guy? At least someone who's native to Brazil, where the mercs seem to be coming from.”

“Venezuela borders Brazil, so it's likely he speaks the language. But we don't know enough about Montaña to guess at the connection. Maybe our new teammate can help answer,” Jules said, his expression grim. “If Reynolds can help fill in some of the blanks, he might not be such a waste of space.” The look he shot Kisho made Kisho groan.

“Okay, already. I'm in. I'll try to get the information you need so you can rip Delancey apart.” Their old commander, Captain William Delancey, had earned their trust, then betrayed them by throwing the team into the Circ project. The bastard had known the Circe serum wasn't stable, but he'd wanted only to further his political career and line his pockets with dirty money.

Now the bastard worked with Colonel Ricardo Montaña, a wild card. The South American drug dealer had connections and the means to help Delancey avoid the team. Not only that, but Montaña and Delancey were in bed in some scheme to hurt Admiral London's newest project.

Like Jules, Kisho was pissed they'd trusted the wrong man. Admiral London had stuck by them through the worst of it, and Kisho and the others intended to help him out however they could. Finding and killing Delancey, as well as Montaña, would be a step in the right direction.

Kisho glanced at Jules. He had to force himself not to flinch at the feral smile Jules gave him.

“From his neck to his goddamn cock. I'm going to rip Delancey open and make him watch as he bleeds to death.”

“Bad time to visit?” Morgan's voice preceded him. He moved with surprisingly little noise for a man his size. So fluid, so graceful. Almost like a Circ.

Kisho narrowed his eyes. Could Morgan be Circ? Olivia had come to them as a civilian, but somehow, they still weren't sure how, she had Circ genetics. If Morgan were Circ, that would certainly explain Kisho's intense attraction. How the man could move the way he did, and why thoughts of Morgan pleased his beast to no end.

No one spoke.

Morgan sighed. “I'll bite. What did I miss?”

Tersch gave Kisho an expectant look.

Fallon stared at him. “Well? Use that charm that has anyone with breasts singing your praises. In your own way, you're as bad as Reynolds. Hell, Olivia wants me to neaten up our room and write her sonnets, to get in touch with my sensitive side. I figure you owe us poor slobs.”

Kisho coughed, embarrassed at all the attention.

Morgan didn't miss a trick and directed a frown at Fallon before turning back to Kisho.

“What'd he say?”

Kisho answered, “We were talking about Delancey. So what did you find out from your good friend at the bar?”

“Well, I learned…”

Kisho didn't catch more than three words before Morgan settled those green eyes on him.

Just like that, a brief glimpse of the past—or was it a dream?—filled his mind like a forecasting vision.

“Damn, what did they do to you?” Morgan growled as he leaned over Kisho lying on the scarred pavement of the Sunfield building's vacant lot. “Kitsu, you're going to die if you don't reach out. Come on, baby. Feel me.” Strong arms lifted him and carried him into the building.

Kisho blacked out. He woke to straps holding him to a wobbly table.

“So you won't fall off and hurt yourself more,” Morgan explained as he cinched down the ties. “Sorry, but this is going to hurt.” He leaned closer, the green of his gaze mesmerizing. And then the pain…

“Delancey has eyes and ears all over the place. That's why you didn't catch Montaña in Bahia,” Morgan was saying.

Jules growled, “We already knew that.”

Morgan didn't take his gaze from Kisho. “But did you know Bill Delancey has a thing for redheads? From what I hear, he's been partying like he's about to deploy for a year. Bastard is playing fast and loose with a lot of cash, and he's attracted attention. Rumor has it a man who sounds an awful lot like Colonel Ricardo Montaña has been palling around with him. And Montaña has real specific tastes he likes to indulge in on the luxury yacht he's been sailing the last month. Before that, I couldn't tell you where they were.”

“The ocean? I thought we'd covered that base. So the bastard has been hiding at sea?” Jules asked, his eyes bright.

Morgan nodded.

“How the hell did you get all that?” Kisho wanted to know.

“Yeah, considering our own government hasn't seen him for months. You've been here for three days and spent no more than half an hour with your contact. What the hell?” Jules added.

Morgan sat down next to Kisho and brushed against his thigh.

A jolt of energy shot straight to Kisho's cock, and he frowned at the satisfied smile Morgan gave him before Morgan returned his attention to Jules.

“I've had feelers out for Montaña since Mrs. Sharpe contacted me months ago. The key to finding Delancey is finding Montaña. To do that, you have to know what the colonel likes.”

“You'd think our government would know that,” Jules said.

“They do. Problem is, someone doesn't want you to know that.” Jules blinked. “Who?”

“Not sure. That, I haven't been able to learn yet.” Morgan stretched and looked skyward, exposing a length of bronzed throat.

Kisho had the distinct urge to bite down and taste that golden flesh. His beast rumbled with hunger. “Where were you before this assignment?” he asked, suddenly wanting to know.

Where did Morgan come from? What was his family like? And what was that faint accent Kisho heard when he listened with all his senses?

Tersch gave him a subtle nod, as if to prod him closer. The seduction plan. If the Viking only knew the disaster that lay in that direction. Sleeping with Morgan would lead to a future Kisho didn't want to come to pass. But lately, his hormones were trying to take control of the rational man in charge of his beast.

“Before this I was in South America. I was on another job. One you're not cleared to hear about.”

Jules snorted. “Oh yeah, I've used that line a time or two before. You know, Morgan, I have my reservations, but if this info pans out, I'll have to take back all the things I've said said about you.”

Morgan blinked. “All?”

“Well, maybe not all, but most.”

“At least you're calling me Morgan, and not dickhead, asshole, or fuckwad.”

“Fuckwad was mine.” Tersch beamed with pride.

Kisho shook his head. “It's a rite of passage. You come to the team, you prove yourself.”

“Hey, I've offered to prove myself, but you sensitive squids won't let me near your precious gym.” Morgan scoffed.

“Did he just call us sensitive?” Tersch growled.

“Did he just call us squids? SEALs, dickhead, not squids.” Fallon frowned. “And keep your distance from Oliva, while I'm at it.”

Kisho understood Fallon's problem. Morgan was fine with a capital F. Tall, dark, and handsome, with that bad-boy appeal that screamed danger, an aphrodisiac to most women—and Kisho as well. He'd been fighting it by keeping his distance, but just a few heartbeats away from Morgan made his body hum in a manner he'd never felt before.

Sex with men satisfied, to an extent. Sex with Circs enabled him to stave off that psychotic madness so many of his fellow friends had perished from. It provided a closeness he needed and a physical release from building tensions. But he had a feeling sex with Morgan would be unforgettable.

Kisho cleared his throat and rose, putting some distance between him and the tall drink of temptation. “Well, it's late, and I'm beat. Let's head home, and we can talk about it tomorrow.” He glanced at Morgan. “If you're so keen to get your ass handed to you, meet me in the gym tomorrow morning.”

Tersch chuckled. “Oh man, if I didn't hate mornings so much, I'd stop by to watch Hayashi kick your ass. Good luck.” He snickered and left for the SUV.

Jules and Fallon followed him, grinning ear to ear.

“Good going. Remember, we need this,” Fallon sent him.

I need this, Kisho thought. Sex doesn't have to lead to forever. I know better than most that happily ever after is a myth. Maybe if I sate this craving, it'll go away. But thinking about it didn't settle his nerves any.

Morgan followed him to the vehicle, so closely, Kisho could feel his body heat.

He glanced over his shoulder and froze. A spark of something wild lit Morgan's eyes, turning them black in the moonlight.

Morgan bumped into him, and he stopped Kisho from falling over by gripping his waist.

Hard.

A noticeable erection pressed against Kisho's ass, and he fought for control. But he couldn't help the rumbled growl from his beast, wanting more.

“Sorry. My mistake,” Morgan murmured. “I'll try not to be so clumsy tomorrow.” As if they had never touched, as if Kisho didn't know how long and hard the man was, Morgan stepped around him and joined the others.

After a few tense breaths fought fighting his beast for control, Kisho joined them.

The next day, he left his room early and nearly ran over Morgan, who stood waiting for him in the hall. To his dismay, Morgan smelled of soap and a musk that made his head spin, a subtle scent of citrus he wanted to inhale and never let go. The ex-merc wore shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt and seemed impervious to the chill in the air.

Morgan looked him up and down and grinned. “You know, for a man who hates compliments, you really show off the whole package nicely.” His own “package” stirred at Morgan's nearness, and the jackass smiled even wider.

“Shut up and get your ass to the gym. You need a few lessons in manners.”

“I can't wait.” They walked past Morgan's room, which irritated Kisho to no end because it was right next to his.

Mrs. Sharpe refused to bend on that detail. Needless to say, her popularity with the team had hit an all-new low.

They reached the empty gym, and Kisho said a prayer of thanks. Dealing with Morgan at all had become harder to bear, mostly because in the man's presence, Kisho wanted nothing more than to sample those firm lips and touch that smooth skin. A shade darker than his own, Morgan's tan spoke of the outdoors and fresh living. Kisho instinctively sensed that the man hadn't gained so much muscle from a gym, but from a life spent protecting himself from danger and wreaking havoc on those who deserved it, a notion Kisho's beast liked very much.

Once inside the gymnasium, the men stretched out and studied each other. Kisho had less brawn and a few inches less height, but he had a Circ's strength and instinct to back him up. He'd seen Morgan's speed, but he wondered how the man would handle himself in a fight with a Circ.

“I'm looking forward to wiping the floor with you,” Kisho growled, his mood lifting when Morgan smiled again.

“Bring it on, Kisho.”

Another thing. The man refused to call him by his last name. Only the women around here called him Kisho, as did his friends sometimes when they engaged in the more carnal aspects of being Circ.

Morgan stood tall and whipped his shirt from his body, startling Kisho from his musings.

“What the hell are you doing?” Holy shit, Morgan was ripped. Corded abs, solid pecs, and biceps bigger than his own. The thought of dominating Morgan didn't intrigue him as much as the fantasy of being dominated by him. Hell. He was getting hard again.

Morgan licked his lips. “I want to get bare bones with you, that's all. Man-to-man. Come on, kitsu, bring it on.”

Had he just called Kisho kitsu? Again? Before Kisho could second-guess, Morgan attacked.

His reflexes saved him, but only just. Surprised, Kisho balanced himself on the balls of his feet, his knees bent, ready. He met Morgan's next two advances, dodging and then striking out with a kick that rocked Morgan on his ass. Before Kisho could take advantage, Morgan was on his feet again.

Kisho raised a brow. “I'm trying to take it easy on you, because I know that handicap makes it difficult to fight back.”

“Handicap?” Morgan questioned between breaths. He darted in and feinted left, striking to Kisho's right. His fist grazed Kisho's waist, and Kisho couldn't help being impressed.

“Your small brain.”

Morgan laughed. “Yeah? Well, at least I'm not letting my hard-on distract me.” Kisho automatically looked down to see Morgan wasn't lying—the brawler had a large erection. He caught Morgan's fist aimed at his gut and spun the male around, so that Kisho's cock pressed against Morgan's fine ass. “Easy, Morgan. Or I'll think you don't like me.” Morgan groaned and rocked back. “If I didn't like you so much, I wouldn't be this close to coming in my damned shorts.”

With incredible speed and flexibility, Morgan somehow managed to break out of Kisho's hold and reverse his position, so that they stood chest to chest.

Morgan shifted, and his cock grazed Kisho's.

Staring into green eyes that suddenly flashed from emerald to a darker, mossy green, Kisho was unprepared for Morgan's next move. The kiss took him by surprise, and he opened his mouth to protest.

That quickly, Morgan snaked his tongue inside, and the taste of raw male and sweet orange shot Kisho's libido into overdrive.

He couldn't think as Morgan took charge of the kiss. His beast settled happily under the aggressive male, not protesting in the least, which further put Kisho under Morgan's spell. The recognition that had sparked the first time they'd touched was nothing compared to the inferno of lust and need that swamped him now.

Morgan groaned and rocked against him, rubbing that massive erection against his own.

Needs long denied rushed him, this mating act so different from the sexual desires he slaked with his teammates. This was so much more.

He drew Morgan's scent into his mouth, into his beast, and purred when Morgan ran his hands over his chest.

Morgan broke the kiss to growl, “You're cut. So fucking hot. Christ, I need you.”

He yanked Kisho's T-shirt over his head and kissed him again before Kisho could think to protest. Worry about the future, about his control, about his plans to seduce the truth from Morgan—everything faded as sheer desire overwhelmed him.

To his shock, he trembled in Morgan's hold, confused, hungry, and so desperate to connect.

“Yeah, that's it, kitsu. Give me more,” Morgan whispered and licked his sensitive nipple.

When Morgan put his lips there and sucked on the hard nub, Kisho felt as if he'd split apart from the sheer ecstasy of his touch. A rush of precum dampened his shorts, and he ground against Morgan's cock.

“So hungry. Need you now,” Morgan muttered against his mouth. The large man slid down his body. Morgan yanked down his shorts, then took Kisho to the back of his throat.

Unable to do anything but react, Kisho fought the verge of change when Morgan cupped his sac and eased a finger near his hole.

The fire of desire overwhelmed him. A mixture of orange and cinnamon filled the air.

Every breath he took tasted like Morgan. As he gripped Morgan's silky hair, he lost himself in the male's embrace.

Morgan slid his tongue around Kisho's shaft and sucked hard. His finger left Kisho's ass for a moment, then returned, slick and hot, and slid inside.

Fuck, he used his own cream to lube. God, I'm so close…

Morgan moaned and shoved his finger deeper. Prodding, pushing, until he grazed that sweet spot that sent Kisho reeling.

“Morgan, please. Yes,” he moaned, climbing too fast toward his end.

In response, Morgan rumbled his pleasure and sucked harder, thrusting his finger in and out with greater speed.

The feeling of belonging, the union of scent and touch and male, pushed Kisho over the edge. “Morgan.” He unloaded into Morgan's hot mouth on a groan. He came hard, shuddering as he emptied his seed.

Morgan swallowed, and Kisho felt a moment of dizziness as the unreality of the situation shook him. He was purring so loudly it couldn't be missed, but he wasn't finished. His beast demanded he take what belonged to him. Light-headed, he pulled out of Morgan's mouth and sank to his knees.

The sight of Morgan licking his cum from his lips sent him into a frenzy. Kisho shoved Morgan to the floor mats beneath them and sliced his shorts from his body. The long, wet cock that met his gaze turned him on like nothing else.

Kisho devoured him.

“Oh, fuck. Kisho.” Morgan moaned his name like a prayer.

Kisho sucked hard, fast, and licked the sweet precum from his lover's dick, purring all the while. He distantly heard Morgan cry out his name, felt the man tremble and clutch his shoulders with strong fingers, tight enough to bruise.

And then Morgan came, jetting into his mouth with such sweet, hot cum.

Kisho sucked him dry, laving his shaft and balls, nuzzling the musky scent as he captured Morgan's essence and strove to keep it deep inside him.

The taste of his mate forced his arousal to the fore again. Going on instinct, Kisho shoved off his shorts and levered himself to his knees, now completely naked as he straddled Morgan.

“So beautiful,” Morgan rasped.

Kisho started jerking himself off, growing larger and thicker under Morgan's scrutiny. But Morgan wasn't content to watch. He caressed Kisho's belly, his balls, and rimmed his asshole.

And all the while he whispered words of praise and need that soothed the beast preening for attention. When Morgan pushed Kisho's hand aside and gripped his cock, Kisho exploded into a second, harder orgasm.

He grunted and shot over Morgan's belly, white jets of seed marking his mate.

“Rub it in,” Morgan said in a thick voice. “All over me.”

“Mine,” Kisho growled, his beast staking its claim.

“My kitsu…” Morgan murmured.

Kisho didn't hesitate. He leaned down and kissed Morgan, but the slight press of his fang over Morgan's lip drew blood. The taste of sweet copper told him what he'd already known.

Morgan Reynolds was his mate. His partner.

His future.

Reason returned, and Kisho groaned.

Morgan was all that, and more. Morgan was his doom.