Hayashi's Hero

Chapter Four

Morgan lay there, trying to regain his wits, as Kisho fumbled with his clothing. Agitated and fierce, like the beast that writhed beneath his skin, the Circ just begged for Morgan to say to hell with everything and claim him. But he had a plan and an agreement to keep, so he'd bide his time. He'd wait, if not with patience, at least with the surety he'd found what he'd been so long in searching.

Sighing with contentment, Morgan linked his hands behind his head and watched his lover shove his arms through his shirt. “Where are you going?” Kisho glared down at him but said nothing.

Morgan could almost see the wheels of his kitsu's mind churning. Right now, Kisho had to be wondering what the hell to do. For years, Morgan had kept quiet tabs on the man. He was familiar with the way Kisho thought. Deliberate, decisive, straightforward: Kisho Hayashi dealt with life the way he wanted it dealt to him.

Growing up as an unwanted bastard on the streets of Okinawa had given him a hard shell, one that would be tough to crack. But Morgan lived for challenges. Hell, he'd been born to create friction, as his parents were fond of saying. Morgan always conquered obstacles in his path.

He had an innate gift for self-preservation. He should have died several times over during the course of his lifetime, but something—or someone—had always kept him tied to the here and now. He healed from mortal wounds. He never scarred and had never suffered from so much as a cold. Those closest to him, those people who were important to him, kept him grounded.

He knew there were some, like him, like his family, who were simply more. People like Fallon who could pull secrets from the mind, and Olivia who could read emotions. They could pose a danger to him if he let them. But Morgan refused to allow anything to threaten what he considered his. His family, his friends, his lover.

Nothing in his life had ever mattered as much as making sure he didn't lose Kisho.

“Aren't you going to get dressed?” Kisho asked in a quiet voice.

The quiet Morgan didn't mind. But the careful tone alerted him to pay attention. He deliberately stretched and rubbed his stomach, pleased to feel the sticky residue of Kisho's marker. “I'm basking in the afterglow. Gimme a minute.” Kisho frowned. “I need to…” He glanced toward the door, then back at Morgan, his gaze fixed to Morgan's hand on his belly. His dark eyes lit from within, and Morgan swore he saw an animal staring out at him.

So fucking sexy, that beast. Hearing Kisho purr while they'd blown each other had been heaven and hell, because it made Morgan hot and so hard, he hurt. He'd wanted to come while sucking off his lover, that huge cock that tasted like warm cherries in his mouth.

Kisho cleared his throat. “We're supposed to be fighting, not fucking. Tuck your hard-on away.”

“Morgan. Tuck your hard-on away, Morgan. Say my name.” Kisho scowled. “I know your name.”

“But you have a hard time saying it unless you're coming in my mouth,” Morgan provoked. “What's wrong, baby? Afraid your boyfriends will see me and get jealous? Don't worry. I can handle them.”

Anger crossed his face, and Morgan realized that in the short span of time he'd actually spent with Kisho, he'd never seen the Circ broadcast so many emotions. The stoic features of perfection looked even better creased in confusion or darkened in anger.

“They're not my boyfriends, Morgan. They're my friends, my brothers.”

“Really? Kind of an incestuous relationship you have going on there.” Kisho jumped on top of him and wrapped a hand around his throat before Morgan could blink. Good Christ, the man could move.

“Watch your tone,” Kisho growled, exposing a hint of fang.

He knew it wasn't smart, but Morgan couldn't help antagonizing him. Anything to shake up his lover's well-ordered world. He rasped, “Watch your tone, Morgan.”

Kisho swore. To Morgan's surprise, Kisho removed his hand and mashed his mouth against Morgan's in a kiss that sparked instant heat. But as soon as the fire started, Kisho backed away, wiping a smear of blood from his lips as he stood.

Morgan licked the coppery taste from a cut on his mouth and contained a shudder. Damn, his kitsu could kiss. Even brutal, the connection between them flamed hotter than ever. The tent in Kisho's shorts and the answering arousal paining his own groin said what neither man would.

That the connection between them went deeper than normal lust.

Noise outside the gymnasium sounded, and Kisho froze.

The animation that had previously lit his face faded. Kisho's expression cleared, suddenly resembling a blank wall. “I need to talk to Mrs. Sharpe. I'll see you later.” He left Morgan for the double doors and had just reached the exit when he added, “And stop calling me 'kitsu.'” He pushed through the doors and disappeared.

Morgan stared down at his overeager dick and wondered how the hell he got into these situations. The plan had been to seduce Kisho slowly. Some time alone, a few dinners, maybe some walks on the beach.

Instead, he'd lost his mind being so close to the object of his desire. Going down on his little fox— big misnomer there—had been the best thing in his life. Salty sweet, that cum addicted him like nothing else. It spoke of a need, of a hunger for Morgan that his lover couldn't hide, no matter how much he might want to.

This whole mission revolved around finding Colonel Montaña and Captain William Delancey, at least so far as the Circs were concerned. But Morgan had arrived on an altogether different agenda. He'd come to claim what Alicia had started when he'd turned sixteen. She'd given him that damned jade fox as a birthday present and changed his life forever.

The small memento from some forgotten trip abroad promised a love he'd kill to experience. So many years ago, yet he could still remember the feeling, when the instinct long dormant inside him had blossomed in seconds, telling him that the person who possessed the figurine's twin was his.

Growing up surrounded by a loving family made Morgan no stranger to affection. He recognized the close ties the Circs here had for each other. The annoyed yet protective way Ava treated Alicia, the loving, sexual heat in Olivia's eyes for Fallon. All of it felt real, and he ached to feel it for one special person.

Except his lover seemed less than inclined to meet him halfway. A better man would try to soften Kisho's edges, to show him with tender loving, and time, that Morgan could be trusted to hold his heart.

But Morgan didn't have time.

Finding Kisho nearly dead two months ago still haunted him. Instinct had led him to seek out Alicia sooner than he'd intended. And thank God for that. He'd been born for that moment, to heal his future mate and tie them even tighter together. By sharing a breath with his other half, by sharing the very essence of what made him what he was in a kiss, he'd jumpstarted Kisho's own healing abilities.

But now what? He still had to find Montaña. Morgan didn't think of his skills as psychic, not like Alicia's Circs. He couldn't predict the future, read minds, auras, or turn into a hulking killing machine. But his instincts never failed. Morgan simply followed the course set for him and didn't stray. Unfortunately, Kisho screwed with his reasoning.

He should have allowed the man some time before jumping him. Three days wasn't all that long to get acquainted. Still, their raw loving had soothed that ache building inside him. Despite Kisho's obvious upset, Morgan felt boneless, sated, and on the verge of falling asleep, naked as the day he was born.

“Oh man, I could have lived my entire life without seeing this,” Tersch groaned from the doorway.

“Looks like we missed quite a party.” Fallon grinned at the torn clothing by his side.

Morgan slowly stood and stretched. “Yeah, Olivia's a real devil in bed.” Between one blink and the next, he dodged Fallon's fist. “Or so I've heard. How the hell would I know? I just thought I'd enjoy your gymnasium to the fullest.”

Kisho was going to love knowing his buddies had caught Morgan naked, with his scent all over him. Now how to use that to my advantage…

Tersch loomed over him, his gaze considering. “Smells like someone fucked you over good.”

Morgan wasn't fast enough to avoid Tersch, who suddenly gripped him by the throat and dangled him off the ground. Choking for real, Morgan clutched Tersch's thick arm.

“You screw with my boy, I'll tear your fucking head off.” He dropped Morgan to the ground.

“Right. Got it.” Morgan rubbed his throat, thinking it might be prudent to leave.

“Nicely done, Frederik.” Fallon bent down to touch his toes, then stretched his hamstrings.

He glanced at Tersch. “I'm going to lift some weights before we train.”

“Good idea. We'll wait for Jules.” Ice blue eyes turned back to Morgan. “Well, go ahead and find some clothes you can work out in. I'll see for myself whether you're as pathetic as you look.”

Morgan had to concede that Tersch had a flare for insults. Then again, so did he. With a smile, he retorted, “Ava doesn't seem to mind me. And you don't look nearly as discerning as she is. Oh, discerning means 'choosy.'”

Fallon coughed to unsuccessfully smother a laugh when Tersch growled and took a step closer to Morgan.

“Prick.”

“And I thought we were friends.” Morgan walked to the door, unashamedly naked. He chalked up a lack of modesty to an unconventional upbringing and his comfort in this place, with these people, he was starting to think of as home. “I'll be right back. Try not to fantasize about my cock while I'm gone.”

“Talk about annoying,” he heard Tersch grumble before he left in search of clothing. He didn't encounter anyone on the way to his room. Once inside, he re-dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, minus the shoes, since the Circs didn't seem to wear them around the place. Before he left, he stroked the small figurine on his bed stand. A small jade fox, his own kitsu. A talisman foretelling his future, or so he hoped.

Kisho shook with need, fury, and panic that he couldn't contain his emotions. Tamping down the firestorm inside him took effort, but he had himself back under control while he sought the one person with all the answers. He found Mrs. Sharpe in her study, looking at her computer screen.

She glanced up with a hopeful smile when he entered. “How was your training this morning?”

Forcing himself not to blush took effort, but he mastered his embarrassment with an iron resolve. “Why is Morgan Reynolds really here?” he asked without preamble.

“Why do you think he's here?”

“Please, Mrs. Sharpe. Just answer the question.”

The shrewd look in her eyes told him he wouldn't find the answers he wanted.

“You know why he's here, Kisho. You just won't accept it.” The damned woman couldn't possibly know the future he'd seen.

She sighed. “Kisho, as you like to tell us all, our future is not set in stone. You see glimpses of possible tomorrows. They don't always mean what you think they mean.”

“Right.” So the visions of him and Morgan getting it on, of his fellow Circs shunning him, of Kisho and then Jules dying, none of them were true? Then why did he see the same damned things every time he tried to look anymore?

“I know it's scary. You have an ability no one would truly want if they understood the repercussions of knowing. Is what you see set in stone, or a result of what you do to change things? The question is always there, but you can't live in fear of making a wrong step. Because Kisho, inaction is just as harmful as the wrong action.” She paused. “When was the last time you had a vision?”

He shrugged. “Last week.”

“We talked about this. You need to harness your ability. Seeing into the future will not only help us protect the admiral's new project, but it will alleviate your own problems. You have to open up and accept it.”

“With all due respect, no, I don't.” Kisho stared down at the smaller woman. Mrs. Sharpe could insist upon a lot of things, but forcing him to foresee events wasn't one of them.

“Stubborn. But I'd anticipated that. Very well, Kisho. Do as you see fit. When you're ready to accept yourself, come see me.” She pushed her intercom and spoke into the microphone.

“Ava? Please bring Olivia in here. Mr. Anderson is due for a call-in, and I need her for a moment.”

Ava answered, “Sure thing, your mightiness. I'll track her down in a jiffy.” She broke the connection.

“You're not going to tell me anything about Morgan, are you?” he asked, conscious he now used Morgan's first name without thinking about it. “Call me Morgan.”

“No. You want to know about him, concentrate and look into yourself for the answers.

Better yet, ask him.”

Pissed but not willing to blame Mrs. Sharpe for his own failings, Kisho nodded to her and left. He passed Jules on his way outside, not bothering to answer when his team leader called to him a second time. He needed to change, to run.

Venturing outside, Kisho removed his shirt and brought on the physical transformation his beast demanded. Sex with Morgan had sated some of his desires, but the animal inside needed more. Not wanting to dwell on anything but the here and now, Kisho grew into the powerful form of a predator at its most primal.

He licked his fangs and flexed his long fingers ending in claws. Then he took off into the woods behind the house and lost himself in the animal wanting to play.

On board a ten-million-dollar luxury yacht off the coast of Miami, William Delancey smiled up at the creatures dancing in front of him. Both redheads had fake tits, lips enhanced by collagen, and the tightest asses he'd ever seen. They shimmied their well-toned frames with limber grace. Manufactured beauty, yet another miracle science could provide. Such extraordinary specimens of sexuality at its prettiest. Too bad once he finished with them they'd go to sexuality at its basest, and that wasn't taking Montaña's sick desires into account.

The rogue Circs he kept for security purposes took a lot of maintenance. But with them in hand, he didn't worry about Hawkins and his fucking team every other second of the day. Being in the States bothered him. He wanted to remain at home, in his newly renovated mansion in Rio.

But orders were orders, and his boss wanted him to be hands-on with this new delivery.

Unfortunately, manufacturing and moving their new wonder drug took longer than expected, despite the plan to make it on U.S. soil. “You'll see,” Montaña had promised. “Making it here will expedite cost and time.”

“Expedite, my ass,” Delancy muttered and injected himself with another dose of Montaña's special stuff. Since they'd improved the formula, it no longer put those who took it in a coma, nor did it kill. The shit worked better than Viagra and gave him the ability to jack off 24-7, which came in handy at his age. Hell, his business partner was better than a pharmacy. Montaña had something for every ailment under the sun. And this one would nullify the psychics Admiral London promised would be the new best thing in warfare.

Personally, Delancey didn't know what to think about Admiral London's knew psychic guinea pigs. Project Dawn had bombed, big-time. Maybe two percent of the Circs they'd created remained stable. Doc Dennis's men and his own team— ex-team. The rest turned psychotic in less than a year, even under their new controls. Sex and violence seemed to keep the rogues calm, at least for a time, but it always ended the same way. A frenzied rampage of murder and rape, followed by a bullet to the brain. Such a waste of a lucrative resource.

Delancey had known the project would tank after the first few test runs. But he was a man with aspirations. So what if a few of Uncle Sam's finest took a hit? Sacrifice was a part of duty, and Delancey stood to make a fortune farming rogue Circs to foreign governments.

Too bad moral dickheads like Hawkins had to stick their noses where they didn't belong.

Along with everything else Delancey had been promised by that asshole in charge of the Circ project, the plan to kill Hawkins and the others had failed. The navy had turned their suspicious eyes on him. Thankfully, his contact had shielded him from the worst of it and directed him to another profitable scheme: new drugs that could instill instances of psychic ability in normal users while hurting actual psychics with inherent ability. Delancey smacked his lips. That was some seriously good shit, and it fucked up Admiral London's plans. A two-for-one. It should have been perfect.

Except this scheme involved South American mercenaries, oddball psychics, and Ricardo Montaña, a monster in human skin.

He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door and tried to ignore the screams Montaña never failed to produce out of his bedmates. “Pablo, turn up the music.” Pablo nodded, and the techno beat amped through the speakers. The young mercenary/crewman returned to the bar but kept a watchful eye on the nubile women.

Annoyed by a present he was forced to deal with and a past he couldn't rectify, Delancey motioned to one of the dancers. Her tits didn't sway as she moved, so firm and round and young.

A familiar hunger returned, and with it came a haze of something more. Ah, the wonder drug had finally taken effect.

“Come here and get me off, honey. I need to forget for a while.” The woman crossed the distance, knelt between his legs, and serviced him like a pro while her friend continued to gyrate to the heavy beat. The music pulsed in time with his cock, and for a few minutes, Delancey lost himself in a desire that didn't last long enough.

The price of pleasure, he thought as he spurted into the woman's mouth. A vision of bright skies and calm seas filled his mind's eye. He jerked as the woman swallowed him, and he continued to come in a steady rush down her throat.

Green eyes glared at him, full of anger and hate. “You did this,” he said, and pointed to Kisho Hayashi, who lay bloody and unmoving on the ground.

“No, he did this.” Delancey aimed his pistol at Julian Hawkins. A monster stood in place of the man, a giant beast with dark skin, long gnarled hair, and blazing bright eyes.

“You're going to pay for that.” Hawkins raced for him and stretched out those claws.

Delancey pulled the trigger, but it was too late.

As pain raked down his chest, he saw a pass of clouds overhead, majestic in an otherwise beautiful, final day…

“Let go, you perv!” The woman struggled in his grip as she tried to extricate herself from his hands entangled in her hair. “Holy shit, you're still coming?” He grunted as he let her go and milked the rest of it from his shaft. The drugs produced a very interesting reaction in his body. The visions he could do without, but the prolonged orgasm was absolutely perfect.

“Sorry.” She flushed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You came a lot, and then there was so much. I thought you were, ah—” She paused.

He smiled. “Don't worry about it. Pablo will help you clean up downstairs.” Where a rogue Circ waited for her with impatience. He sucked in a breath when another rush filled his flaccid cock once more. The drum of his heartbeat raced, but he didn't care. Better to die of a sexually induced heart attack than at the hands of a fucking beast.

This made the tenth vision he'd had where he died at Hawkins's hands. At least this time, he'd taken out that asshole Hayashi. Another do-gooder with too much power for his own good.

Delancey forced himself not to think about Fallon and that freak Tersch and shook himself free of the unnerving premonition.

Pablo led the woman from the room while the other chugged a beer and continued to dance. A beat of silence settled while the music changed artists. In the silence, muffled sobs and screams sounded through the door behind him. Then the blessed surge of rhythm and bass thumped through the walls of the yacht once more.

Outside, the sun in the sky made the ocean look more blue than green. A breeze flowed through an open window, pushing past the ship drifting aimlessly on the ocean.

Life didn't get much better than this.

Delancey gripped the base of his dick and waited for another swell of ecstasy. The dancer finished her beer and stared in fascination at his erection.

“Now, honey, for round two.” Unlike her friend, this one smiled, took a shot of tequila, and joined him. She gave him the respite he needed with enthusiasm. Watching her head bob, he made a mental note to call Montaña's scientist friend. A vague plan formed. He'd work with the vision he'd just had, reshape it, retool it, and hopefully make some dough while getting Hawkins out of the way for good.

Morgan sat in his room reviewing his notes when a knock sounded at the door. Wishing for Kisho but knowing it would be anyone but him, he swallowed a sigh. “Come in.” Olivia Fallon walked through the door. Tall, sexy, and taken.

He smiled. “What can I do for you, Olivia?” He laced his words with an innuendo she couldn't miss.

She laughed. “Now why doesn't my mate like you, I wonder?” Mate. Olivia had apparently taken to the Circ way of life, which reminded him that she, too, was Circ. He wondered what she looked like when changed.

Her blue-green eyes subtly narrowed on him, and he reinforced the shields around his mind. “Give it up. You're not going to see anything I don't want you to.”

She huffed and crossed the room to sit in a stuffed chair in the corner.

Like the other rooms in this wing, Morgan's bedroom was more like a giant suite. He had his own bathroom with an expansive shower, a small area complete with a desk and two chairs, a large bed, several dressers, a reading chair, and a walk-in closet. Done in dark browns and blues, it had a masculine but tasteful flair. Definitely not designed by any of the Circs in residence.

The one glance he'd had of his lover's room showed a tasteful, minimalistic design in natural colors: greens, browns, and tans.

“What are you hiding?” Olivia asked and tossed her long black hair off her shoulder.

She had looks, sexuality, and a graceful charm, made all the more appealing because she didn't seem to know it.

“I can't believe your mate would let you wander, even so innocently, into my room.”

“He's out with the guys. I think they went for a beer or something.” So much for feeling like a part of the team. Despite Kisho's avoidance, Morgan's training with the other Circs had gone well. Learning how they fought and showing them what he could do had taught them all not to underestimate each other. Whereas the Circs possessed brute strength, Morgan had an uncanny ability to avoid most harm. His natural reflexes were as good as, if not better than the others, but he had a feeling Kisho would equal his speed.

Olivia continued to stare at him.

Talk about the perfect woman for Fallon. During their sparring match earlier, the telepath had done his damnedest to pry into Morgan's mind. Both Mr. and Mrs. Fallon were more than tenacious. A pair of bulldogs that never quit.

He rolled his eyes. “All right. I'll bite. Why are you here?”

“Kisho hasn't gotten any information about Delancey from you, and I want to know what you're hiding.”

“Am I supposed to reward you for your honesty?”

She grinned and charmed him without trying. “Yes.”

“I'm not hiding anything from Kisho. From you—now, that's a different story.”

“Why?”

“Because my emotions are my own,” he said gently. “As are my thoughts. Your hard-headed mate doesn't seem to respect that.”

She flushed. “I'm sorry. It's just that, well…” she broke off.

He followed her gaze to his little jade fox.

“That's not Kisho's is it?” she murmured, her brow furrowed in thought.

“No, it's mine. My kitsu.” Possession colored his words, but he couldn't help it.

“What?”

“Kitsu in Japanese means fox.”

Her eyes widened with understanding.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Kisho had an identical figurine in his own room. He was also the son of a Japanese mother and Caucasian father. He had the best of both worlds, as far as Morgan was concerned. Handsome, controlled, so austere yet so sensitive beneath his cool front. Morgan wanted to touch him again, to feel Kisho's heartbeat under the palm of his hand.

“Oh, that's so nice.” Olivia blinked rapidly. Her eyes had a teary sheen.

Morgan scowled. “What?”

“When you think of him really hard, your shields crack. You might want to work on that.” She spoke as if psychic phenomena were normal. Then again, in her world, it probably was.

“I'm projecting, hmm?” In spite of his desire to keep his feelings private, he liked Olivia.

He found he didn't mind her knowing how he felt about Kisho. Hell, he wanted everyone to know. But Alicia had warned him to take things slowly. Kisho, by his very nature, demanded a gentler approach.

Olivia smiled. “Actually, it's there in your eyes. When you look at that statue, and when you made the connection to Kisho, it's just…

“Just there.” Morgan snorted. “You're dangerous, you know that?” She laughed. “More than you know. You mess with Kisho, I'll gut you. And don't think I can't.” She held out her hand.

Morgan watched her arm thicken, darken, and literally grow before his eyes. Claws replaced the painted nails until only the tips remained blue. In a flash, she changed back.

“I'm impressed.”

“But not scared. I don't need to read you to know that. Why aren't you more bugged about what I just showed you?”

“Like I told Kisho, I met Doc and his Circs up North. McKinley, the big guy? He's a little scary. The others were pretty nice.” He didn't bother hiding his smile. “They don't seem to like Tersch or Fallon much.”

She shook her head. “I've been wanting to meet the women up there, but the timing hasn't been right. Mrs. Sharpe told me Kelly has a baby.”

Kelly English, a female Circ, had two protective mates and a beautiful baby girl. Morgan had barely been allowed to breathe near the woman. “A toddler, actually, and a real handful.”

“Oh.” Olivia's expression turned dreamy.

“Good Lord. Babies on the brain. I should have realized. Are you pregnant?” She flushed. “No.” She sat up straighter and blinked. “Why? Do I look fat?”

“Not at all. Sexy, slender, and… Oh, hey there, Ava. What brings you around?” Ava stood in the doorway wearing a frown. Her hand settled on her hip, and she tapped a long finger, just watching him. For such a tiny woman, she packed a hell of a lot of energy in that curvy body.

He knew that look. “What did I do now?”

“More like who you did.” She flounced into the room and threw herself onto his bed. “It's just us girls now, so spill. What did you do to my poet?” He glared. Just us girls? Was she including him?

Olivia muffled a laugh.

“You're a pain in my ass, you know that?” He flipped a finger at Ava, who gave it right back.

Her hazel eyes looked more green than brown in the light, and her full lips quirked into a smile. “So why is Kisho avoiding any mention of you? And why is Mrs. S. so determined to shove you two together?”

“Ava, look.” Olivia pointed to his fox.

Ava turned to look, then swung her head around, her mouth open. “Are you kidding me?

That's why you're here?”

He frowned. “What's so surprising about that?”

“But Kisho's so gentle. So kind and quiet.”

“And your point?”

Ava began laughing. “You're obnoxious.”

“That's not true.”

“You're bossy, you're a slob, and I thought you liked girls.” Olivia stared at them in fascination.

Morgan scowled. “One, I'm commanding, not bossy. Two, I prefer casual to slob. And three, I used to like girls until I found out men had so much more to offer.” Olivia smacked herself in the forehead. “Oh man, you two know each other. I knew there was something going on.”

“You can't say anything to anyone,” Ava warned.

“Come on. I'm not going to lie to Fallon. He knows everything I know.” Morgan rubbed his chin. Perhaps he'd been going about this all wrong. Ava was pushy, but she got things done. He could accomplish more in half the time by using all his resources. Kisho trusted Olivia and Ava. If they backed Morgan, maybe his lover would too.

“It's okay, Ava. Olivia, what's said in this room needs to stay between us. And by us, I mean Ava, you, Fallon, and me. For Kisho's sake.”

Olivia glanced at the fox again. “For Kisho's sake. But you hurt him at all, and I'll—”

“I know. You'll gut me. Tersch will strangle me with my own intestines. Ava will nag me to death.”

“Ass.”

He grinned at Ava and blew her a kiss. “You two want to help Kisho?” He grew serious.

“Tell me how to get through to the man I've come to claim.”