Hayashi's Hero

Chapter Five

Kisho shouldn't have gone out with the others, but he'd needed to get far away from Morgan. The unfamiliar bar had an upscale feel to it, a different place than the normal haunts they frequented, where feet stuck to the floor and the stale scents of vomit, sex, and cigarettes pervaded.

But Tersch had wanted to go somewhere different tonight, so Fallon drove them here, where he and Olivia had occasion to relax.

The green of a woman's ring winked at him, and Kisho immediately thought of Morgan.

He sighed. He couldn't stop thinking about the jerk. Sex with the male wasn't enough, because Kisho wanted more. He couldn't stop tasting him, feeling the man's skin under his palms. He'd left him naked and spent in the gym, where the others had no doubt found him when they'd gone to exercise.

Jealousy flared, that his fellow Circs, his brothers, had spied what belonged to Kisho.

Mine, his beast growled.

Fallon shot him a look, and Kisho fought to calm himself.

“Good thing you're driving, Hayashi,” Tersch said with a slur. “Because I'm totally slopped.”

“Slopped?” he asked, glad of the interruption and a little worried. Tersch rarely drank to this excess, but something had been bothering him lately. Despite his own troubles, Kisho recognized Tersch needed some help. “What's wrong? You never drink this much.”

“Sometimes I do. When it gets so cold.”

He didn't make much sense, and then Kisho realized the date. Every February twenty-seventh, since Kisho had known him, Tersch drank himself into oblivion.

His gaze softened, and Kisho patted his buddy on the back. “Ah man, I'm sorry, Tersch.

You want another beer? On me?”

“S-s-sure, why the fuck not?” A sadness filled his blue eyes, and Kisho glanced at Fallon.

Fallon shook his head. “Come on, Gunnar. I think we should get you home.” Tersch cursed and swung a fist that Fallon easily ducked. “I don't need a fucking nursemaid.” He stumbled and would have fallen off his barstool if Jules hadn't steadied him.

“Take him home, Fallon. I want to talk to Hayashi.” Since Jules had arrived in his own vehicle after running some errands for Mrs. Sharpe, Kisho had no excuse not to stay.

“Don't wanna go,” Tersch grumbled, and nearby patrons froze. The beast began to surface.

Not good.

Fallon laughed. “You have to. Ava warned me to have you back no later than midnight.” He lowered his voice. “And Olivia promised a treat if I brought you back at least a little sober.” A light sparked in Tersch's eyes.

“Nice one, Fallon,” Kisho projected as loudly as he could. He was never quite sure when Fallon could hear him, because Fallon often shielded himself.

“Poor guy. I hate to see him like this. Olivia will make it better. She'll draw his pain.”

“Think she'll let me have a piece of that ass?” Tersch asked.

“You play the sympathy card, she'll probably blow you,” Fallon murmured. In a louder voice, he added, “I love that woman. Now come on. Time to go home.” Tersch left without protest.

Leaving Kisho alone with Jules. Damn. Here it comes.

Jules sighed. “It's like I can read your mind. You don't want me grilling you, but I'm going to.” After a moment, he continued. “Come on, man. You can't tell me you didn't think I'd want to know what the hell's between you and Morgan. I smelled you all over him.” Jules took a swig from his bottle and paused. “I didn't mean you had to do him for the info.” Jules looked uncomfortable, and Kisho wanted to sink through the floor. This was why he'd never fully come out to the team. He wanted to be a part of them, not some “fag freak.” He'd heard enough negativity growing up, and again in the navy from men who didn't know what he was. Such rampant homophobia had begun to taper off due to the gradual acceptance of gays, but the prejudice was still alive and kicking, in the military especially.

Jules and the others were men's men. Like his father had been. Strong alpha-types that women fell head over heels for. Jules stood a few inches taller than Kisho's six-two, had muscle tone a bodybuilder would envy, and an arresting face with eyes that glittered like diamonds. The total package of male beauty, integrity, and resolve made him a natural leader and friend anyone would be lucky to have.

“Dude, talk to me.” Jules placed a hand over his, stilling the tapping fingers he hadn't realized he was drumming.

Before Kisho could respond, a pair of snickering drunks shoved into Jules. “Oh, look, the boyfriends are talking.”

Making matters worse, the bartender behind them frowned and took a step closer. The brawny guy tending bar had been quiet but observant, and Kisho realized he would be the one to watch. The drunks he could easily handle, but the bartender probably had a bat or gun handy.

Not a big deal, but he could do without the attention.

Thankfully, tonight wasn't all that crowded. The sooner he shut these two up, the sooner he could leave the bar, and hopefully, this discussion, aside.

“Look,” he began.

Jules interrupted by removing his hand from Kisho's. He turned and punched the loudmouth in the face. The guy dropped like a stone, unconscious. “Anything else you pricks wanted to add? I'm all ears.”

The other drunk stammered his apologies and dragged his friend away with the help of another guy.

The bartender approached, and Kisho prepared to take him on.

“Nice punch. Whatever you want, it's on the house. So what can I get you two?” The bartender waited and winked at Kisho.

“Nothing else for me or my friend. Not boyfriend, friend. But thanks.” The bartender withdrew a pen from his pocket and scribbled on a napkin. He pushed it at Kisho. “Call me,” the big guy said before he moved to the other end of the bar.

Beyond humiliated, Kisho walked away as fast as he could manage without making it obvious. He left the place and looked around the parking lot for Jules's truck, his world disintegrating around him. “Not boyfriend, friend,” Jules had said. God forbid anyone mistake Jules for being gay.

Jules swore behind him. “Dammit, hold on a minute.”

Kisho froze when Jules grabbed his arm and swung him around.

“What the hell's wrong with you? First Tersch, now you. I swear, if Fallon freaks on me too, I'm out of here.”

The word “freak” made Kisho cringe, but he cleared his throat and apologized. “Sorry. I just don't know what you want me to say.”

“I don't want you to say anything. I just want you to be okay.” Jules nodded to his truck, and they walked to it together. “I'm not sure what the hell is going on in that mind of yours, Hayashi. But I don't want you to do anything you don't want to with Morgan. I mean, yeah, we need to know as much as we can about Delancey. But you know, there are other ways to get it than screwing the guy. I never meant you had to actually go through with anything.” Jules made it sound distasteful, and a measure of shame flooded Kisho.

“Stop it, right the fuck now.” Jules leaned close, suddenly angry. “Your aura is all over the place. I can't read emotions, but I can read pain. What the hell did Morgan do to you? I'll kill him, I swear it.”

Jules took a step away, and Kisho stopped him. “Wait. It's not what you think. I—” He took a deep breath. “I was with him. I pushed it; he didn't. It's okay.” It wasn't at all, but Kisho didn't like the look in Jules's eyes. He couldn't let his team leader hurt Morgan because he was too afraid to tell the truth. Yeah, Morgan had started it, but Kisho had been far from saying no.

“Ah, okay, then.” They got into the truck and sat in silence. “I'm not telling you what to do.

I mean, I am, but… Fuck, I hate this touchy-feely bullshit. Bottom line is, you're mine. Every damned one of you Circs is under my protection, and I won't let anything happen to you, all right?” Jules's beast growled his affirmation, a rumble of warning, of acceptance.

Kisho stared straight ahead, afraid if he glanced at Jules, Jules would see him fighting to remain in control. Hell, his mother had died when he was two. His father had died just a few years after he'd found him. The only family Kisho had left were his team. They meant everything to him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing any of them. And Mrs. Sharpe wondered why he didn't like to see into the future. A future where everyone that mattered to him turned on him?

Where he died? Where Jules died? Christ.

“All right?” Jules asked again.

“Yeah,” Kisho answered, his voice hoarse.

Jules started the truck. “Good. 'Nuff said. Now let's go home and try to weasel more info out of Mrs. Sharpe. That woman knows more than she's saying.” And Kisho would know more if he stopped being such a pussy and tried to see again. “I'll help, Jules. I'll find out where the bastard is hiding. I promise.” A glance at Jules showed him smiling. “I know you will, Hayashi. You never disappoint.” When Kisho arrived home, he walked into the kitchen to grab a quick snack and saw Ava, Morgan, and the Keisers—Melissa, their cook, and Jack, her husband and handyman—playing cards.

“Hey.” Morgan acknowledged him but didn't look up from his cards.

“Later.” Kisho left the group and went upstairs. He undressed and moved to his bed. And froze.

There, on the pillow, lay a white rose, devoid of thorns.

He flushed in confused pleasure but told himself Ava had left it. Or maybe Olivia. She could sense emotions. Maybe she'd sensed his troubles and sought to provide subtle comfort.

The next day he rose, dressed, and joined a much better-looking Tersch and Fallon on a fact-finding mission. They returned two days later with some leads on Delancey that Jules would find interesting. Exhausted from the trip down to New Orleans, then the Keys, Kisho wanted nothing more than to fall into bed. At least working their asses off to chase down word on Delancey hadn't given him much time to think about Morgan.

He paused at his bed, where another long-stemmed white rose lay across his pillow. He picked it up and waved the floral scent under his nose. But as he did, he caught a hint of orange—Morgan.

His beast perked at the smell, and the fragrance stayed with him as he fell asleep.

The rest of the week passed in a confusing blur. Each day, Morgan found some excuse to spend time with him. But the cagey bastard never made a move. The sexual tension between them increased, to the point where Kisho felt the itch to touch Morgan at every opportunity.

Morgan sat next to him and read a book while Kisho listened to classical music in the mansion's conservatory. When Kisho retired to his room to write in his journal, as he did most nights, Morgan made excuses to hang around: He wasn't tired. His bed didn't feel comfortable.

Tersch annoyed him.

Idiot that he was, Kisho never refused Morgan. Most of the time they spent the hours not talking. While he should have been pumping Morgan for answers about Delancey, Kisho spent his time trying to control his beast and the crazy attraction he had for the brawny merc.

Who the hell could concentrate when two-hundred-plus pounds of prime male sat in the same damned room?

The obvious answer would be to fuck Morgan and get the need out of his system, but a strange fear held Kisho back.

Five days after their first “grappling” in the gym, Morgan knocked on Kisho's open door.

“Yes?”

Behind Morgan, he saw Tersch giving him a thumbs-up and nodding at Morgan. Then Jules dragged Tersch back into his own room and slammed the door shut.

Morgan shrugged. “Just thought I'd see what you're up to. I spent the day making new contacts and stirring up old ones. Something's bound to shake free sooner or later.” Sitting at his desk, Kisho looked up at Morgan and closed his journal. He'd been stuck on a new word for “green” to describe Morgan's eyes. So far, he couldn't find anything better than emerald to do Morgan justice.

“What are you writing?” Morgan asked.

“Nothing.” Kisho shoved his journal into his desk drawer.

Morgan stepped inside and closed the door behind him without taking his eyes from Kisho.

“You weren't at dinner tonight. And I haven't seen you at the gym much.”

“Wasn't hungry. And I've been busy.” Busy avoiding the man his team leader has asked him to cling to like glue. He flushed with shame, needing to prove, if not to himself, then at least to his friends he could be trusted to get the job done. “What about you?” Morgan walked toward him, the glint in his eyes dangerously appealing. Danger, arrogance, and a dominant aggression filled his steps. Kisho could almost taste the hunger the man projected. Morgan stopped right next to his chair, his groin at eye level.

Kisho swallowed hard and forced himself to look up to meet Morgan's gaze.

“I've missed you, little fox.”

Kisho couldn't help looking down at Morgan's erection straining his jeans. Despite the blustery weather, inside the mansion, Morgan favored T-shirts that clung to his solid frame. He was built like a Circ caught mid- change. Strong, powerful, lethal.

“Wh-why do you call me that? I'm not little.”

Morgan smiled, and his lids shuttered his expression. “Not little at all.” Kisho's cock shoved against the nylon of his shorts. He should have been embarrassed, but in the time since he and Morgan had pleasured each other, he'd been unable to think of anything else. Hell, he'd come in his sheets twice after particularly hot dreams. Something about Morgan stirred his hormones all over the place.

He'd thought the mating heat had finished. Or maybe Olivia and Fallon were to blame for this constant sexual need. A newly mated Circ pair could be causing all this.

A loud bang followed by a groan from the other room distracted him.

“Your friends don't seem bothered about getting it on.” Kisho swallowed loudly, wishing he had the nerve to get up and walk out. He needed relief from this pressing ache, but for the first time that he could recall, he didn't want his friends. He wanted no one but Morgan. “I told you before, Circs are different. We do what we have to.”

“So why aren't you over there with them right now?” Morgan whispered and stepped closer. “Why aren't you changed and raging with the others?”

“Why do you care?” He shifted in his seat and stifled a groan when his cock rubbed against his shorts. Shit, he could feel the wet spot growing.

Morgan's hands went to the snap of his jeans…right in front of Kisho's face. He unfastened them. The slow slide of the zipper sounded overloud in the sudden silence of the room. Kisho couldn't breathe as he watched Morgan shove his underwear down to showcase a mouthwatering cock.

Morgan held it in his hands and stroked the moisture beading at his slit over his crown.

“I'm hard and wet. Want a taste? Or don't you want your little friends to know what you really need?” the bastard asked, lowering his voice so Tersch and Jules in the other room wouldn't hear.

Kisho struggled to break free from the mesmerizing sight of Morgan's arousal. “You need to go.”

“Make me,” Morgan dared and licked his lips.

Kisho's breath caught in his throat. “I can kick your ass from here to Canada, merc.” Morgan grinned. “Then do it. Or are you too scared to try?” He wiped his finger through his slit, then held it toward Kisho. To Kisho's shock, Morgan wiped the moisture over Kisho's lips.

Automatically licking it off, Kisho felt his beast roar at the male's conceit. But the damned creature refused to appear.

“Come on, baby. Suck me. You know you want to.”

Never before had Kisho lost his ability to change, and the loss now scared the hell out of him, because he was glad of it. He didn't want to throw Morgan out. He wanted to please him, then take his pleasure in Morgan's own mouth.

“That's right. You're mine now. All mine, my little kitsu.” Large hands reached for him, powerful hands dragging him closer to his destiny.

The familiar sense that he'd already seen this vision came to him, but then Kisho was beyond caring. He groaned and leaned forward, needing to taste. The minute he sucked Morgan's cock deep, everything within him settled.

“Oh yeah, baby. It's been so hard staying away from you.” Morgan thrust his fingers through Kisho's hair to hold him tight. Then he began thrusting in his mouth, short bursts of need that drew Kisho into a frenzy.

The tease of cock and balls but nothing more made Kisho determined to suck all the reason from his mate. He used his tongue, the suction of his mouth, and his firm lips to pull Morgan into a glorious shout of ecstasy as he came hard down Kisho's throat. On the verge of coming himself, Kisho fought not to spill as he swallowed the thick cream over his tongue.

Unable to stop himself, Kisho eased his hand over his own cock.

“That's it, little fox. Bring yourself off. Let me watch you. Take your shorts down. Show me that rosy shaft. Yeah, and spread your legs.” Morgan pulled back. He tucked himself back inside his jeans and refastened them. Then he stared down at Kisho, his expression one of need and affection.

Kisho couldn't resist. Though his beast wanted to fuck and be fucked, he wanted to play as well. Morgan commanded; he obeyed. The thought of doing whatever Morgan told him to do only increased his desire. Kisho pushed his shorts down, and his cock sprang up, wet and hard.

His balls ached, especially when Morgan licked his lips again.

“Want to come in your mouth,” Kisho muttered as he stroked himself, on edge and hard as hell.

“No. I want to watch. I want to see you spill, that milky white cum sliding down that long cock. Then I want to lick it up.”

Kisho moved his hand faster and widened his legs, hungry for Morgan. Eager to please, though he should have stayed far away from the sin of temptation packaged around that handsome face.

“I love your spice. Cinnamon, my favorite,” Morgan said on a sigh as he inhaled. He never took his gaze away from Kisho's rapidly moving hand. “Oh, yeah. That's it. You're wet, little fox.

And so thick. You're going to feel so good inside me.” Kisho groaned, unable to keep his pleasure silent.

“So pretty. I wish I had the words to describe you, kitsu.” Hearing the special name pushed Kisho further.

“Come for me. Right now. Let me see how much you'll give me. How much I need to lap from that fucking hot cock.”

Kisho groaned as he gripped himself and spewed. Morgan watched him as if mesmerized.

And Kisho continued to come, his beast urging him to display himself to the fullest.

Morgan dropped to his knees and brought his mouth over Kisho, catching the fall of cum and drinking it down in greedy gulps. When Kisho finally ceased, Morgan gently laved Kisho with his tongue.

Then Morgan backed away and stood. After wiping his mouth, he leaned close and kissed Kisho hard.

“Write about that.” He winked, then turned and left before Kisho could gather his wits to speak.

The door closed solidly behind him.

Kisho stared at it, then down at his flaccid shaft. The incident seemed more a dream than reality, but the connection that continued to grow between them refused to go away.

“Morgan, what am I going to do with you?” He sighed and looked down at desk. It was then he noticed the white rose sitting where his journal had been moments earlier. No thorns.

White. Sweet and rich.

And another of Kisho's inner walls came crumbling down.

He woke the next morning with the intention of confronting Morgan about the flowers and only the flowers. He entered the kitchen to find Jules once again missing. No sign of Morgan either.

Mrs. Sharpe sat with the rest of the team, minus Jack and Melissa, who were busy working on the grounds. “Kisho, come sit next to me. Fallon tells me you found Montaña's footprint yesterday.”

Kisho grabbed a plate and filled it up from the buffet laid out on the counter. He joined Mrs. Sharpe and the others at the long table. “I think I did. We traced the bills of some private docks to one of Montaña's lesser-used aliases. And no, I didn't see it. I happened on the coincidence after Fallon read some thug's mind.”

“The guy's in custody in New Orleans on attempted murder,” Fallon added. He leaned back and put an arm around Olivia's chair. “He tried to cut a deal with the state by sharing information about one of Montaña's mercs. He didn't tell the feds anything we didn't already know, but I dug through his thoughts and found the docks. I think the dock in Florida is where we should look next. Morgan mentioned Montaña's boat, and the coast of Miami is a logical place to search. I'm betting one of those places will get us closer, but we need to move now.”

“Morgan and Jules are already down there.” Mrs. Sharpe kept her eyes on Kisho, and her knowing look bugged the hell out of him. She said something else, but he couldn't hear her.

Morgan was gone. With Jules. They were alone. Together.

A rush of fury made him itch to change. He gripped his fork in a tight fist, no longer hungry for eggs and bacon but for violence.

“Kisho,” Mrs. Sharpe snapped, “pay attention. I want you to focus for me after breakfast.

I've tried to give you time, but we have important work to do.” He glanced around the table to see the others staring at him. He drew in a deep breath and told his beast to relax. We belong to Jules. It's okay. No problem. Jules doesn't want Morgan that way. After a heartbeat, his beast backed off before snarling, He'd better not.

Tersch smirked at him and mouthed, Lucky you. He wiggled his brows at Mrs. Sharpe, as if the woman couldn't see him from the corner of her eye.

Kisho saw her try to smother a smile.

“Gunnar, I want you to meet with me after Kisho's done. We have work to do downstairs.” In the labs, she meant.

Tersch lost his smirk.

“Have fun, buddy,” Kisho rasped, trying hard to stem the jealousy that continued to course through his veins.

He picked at his food during the rest of the meal and ignored Fallon's attempts to communicate mentally. He left for Mrs. Sharpe's office before Olivia could intercept him.

Once inside, he sat on her couch and clutched his head in his hands. What the fuck is going on with me? Why should I care what Morgan does or doesn't do?

Within his mind, his beast roared. He's my mate. Mine!

“Fuck off,” Kisho warned through gritted teeth. He clamped down on the urge to shift just as Mrs. Sharpe arrived.

She smoothed down the light pink skirt of the suit she wore. The lighter color emphasized the richness of her dark skin. The pearls around her throat accented those at her ears and enhanced her femininity while contrasting against the power in her chocolate brown eyes. The older woman seethed with energy, and Kisho's beast withdrew under her withering stare.

“Much better.” She huffed her approval and sat across from Kisho in a hard leather chair.

“Now it's time you used that foresight for something more than fearful glimpses into your own future. I want you to close your eyes, breathe deep, and focus on Morgan.”

“Huh?”

“We both know you have strong feelings for the man, be they positive or negative. Don't focus on the feelings, focus on Morgan. He's the one who found Delancey first. So use him to leapfrog to Delancey. Trust me. This will work. Push your personal feelings aside, Kisho.” Her voice lowered. “I'm afraid that if we don't find your ex-captain soon, bad things will happen to the team. Bad for Gunnar, especially.”

“Tersch?” He stared at her, wide-eyed. “I never saw him hurt. Jules and me, but not Tersch.”

“Like I said before, the future changes all the time. It's fluid, Kisho. Now flow with it.” Kisho took a deep breath, prepared to look beyond his issues to help the team. He needed to do whatever it took to ensure his friends' protection.

He lay down on the couch, slowed his breathing, and allowed his mind to trace the familiar pattern that showed him a world and timeline beyond his own.

“That's it,” he heard Mrs. Sharpe say. “Nice and easy. Flow with it, son. That's my boy.” She used the comforting words whenever he went under, and it soothed him, the way a small child felt comforted by his mother. He tried not to think of it in that light, but under the influence of her soft speech, he relaxed—protected, safe—and reached into the tendril of tomorrow.

Morgan's handsome face smiled back at him, warmth overflowing in those green eyes. The feel of his slick body surging against Kisho's excited him, but he forced the feeling aside.

Because after the excitement the dread came, and he needed to look for Jules and Tersch, to help his friends escape death.

Kisho concentrated. Mrs. Sharpe's soothing voice blanketed him, and he looked deeper.

Pressed closer. Something very near, very soon. And it was important…