Julian's Jeopardy

Chapter Four

Two months later, North Carolina

Two changed Circs battled for control in a messy bedroom cluttered with wrinkled clothes, skin magazines, and Tastykake wrappers. After a particularly hard hit, Jules fisted his hands in Tersch's hair and dragged the stubborn bastard to his knees. “I don't need you mothering me, you dumb shit.” Tersch growled and tried to jerk away, but since the idiot refused to call on his enhanced strength anymore, Jules took advantage. He shoved Tersch down onto his hands and knees and quickly got into position on his own knees between the male's legs. Then he shoved his cock home. Tersch groaned but didn't protest as Jules fucked the fight right out of him.

The slick glide of Jules's cock through Tersch's tight ass felt good, but not as good as it had felt…before. Damn. He still couldn't stop having hazy dreams of the perfect woman two months later. A sexy nightmare that drove him crazy with frustrated desire. And he really didn't need the added aggravation.

Jules focused instead on the Circ in front of him, the wounded creature who was now living a half life, his only purpose, apparently, to martyr himself for the team and Jules in particular.

Tersch panted as Jules gripped his hips, Jules's claws digging into flesh to find purchase as he continued to slam into the blond troublemaker.

“How's that, Viking? You like that, hmm? Like to be taken, owned?” Jules panted.

Tersch grunted, shaking as his big body neared climax.

Jules could scent his readiness, could feel the taut desire building to a crescendo in the powerful male that responded to Jules's own need. While the others on their team saw to the mating heat in private, Jules and Tersch were now the odd men out. Not mated, they turned to each other to ease the buildup of Circ lust.

Though the others always welcomed them, joining them felt like an intrusion to Jules.

Tersch tensed and shifted his hips to prevent his own impending orgasm. The bastard had been in a masochistic frame of mind lately. As if they needed Tersch in a worse mood. Adding sexual frustration to the mix was like adding gasoline to an inferno.

Jules slowed down.

“No, more. Harder,” Tersch demanded.

“Why? So I can come and you can suffer? No way. You're going to blow, you big bastard.” Knowing what his friend liked, Jules leaned closer over Tersch's back.

“You think I don't know how you like it? How a bit of pain doesn't make it good for you?”

He breathed over the curve of Tersch's vulnerable neck, pleased when the berserker shivered. “That's right. Some pain makes everything better, doesn't it?” He bit down on Tersch's neck and grabbed the man's cock, jerking him off while he remained inside his ass.

“Oh fuck. Jules,” Tersch moaned.

Jules understood Tersch well enough to know that the Circ was getting off on the pain and, surprisingly, the submission.

Though Jules knew Tersch to be a dominant personality, by submitting to Jules, Tersch belonged. He fit into the team, into a family that wouldn't turn on him, the way so many others had in the past. Jules knew exactly what was wrong with Tersch, but with so much other shit going on, he hadn't paid the big guy the attention he should have.

He eased off the big man's neck and licked the blood flow that soon stopped.

“That's it. Come for me. You need it.” Jules gripped Tersch's cock harder, squeezing, and tunneled deeper into Tersch's ass.

With a low groan, Tersch came over his fingers, his thick cream a rich scent that layered over Jules's arousal.

“Oh yeah, that's it. Now put your hand there and work out the rest.” Tersch slid his hand over Jules's, replacing him, and continued to jerk himself off while Jules finished. Jules pumped a few more times and came, no longer having to hold back. The sheer relief, letting go of the tension, was a balm to the rage still smoldering in his beast. The stupid creature hadn't been the same since his time in Brazil, but damned if Jules could sate him.

Tired of the nagging urge to find his—what, mate?—he'd actually looked for the woman who haunted his dreams. No one had seen a glimpse of anyone resembling her description, not in Trindade or anywhere near where he'd been found. But reports had surfaced about Montaña. Jules had that much intel, at least.

Though he couldn't recall much about his time away, some of the torture he endured lingered in his nightmares. As if his suffering hadn't been bad enough, knowing that Montaña had been so close, yet now remained as elusive as ever, was like a thorn in his side. Jules had no idea where they'd been holding him, and none of the team's contacts could verify the location of Montaña and his men, other than the fact that they'd caught occasional glimpses of them in Trindade.

Jules wanted nothing more than to gut the asshole. He just had to find him first.

He pulled out of Tersch and stood, glancing at the ring he refused to remove from his hand. Instinct told him to wear it, that it held some importance he'd come to learn in time. He'd been sure to have the ring tested before bringing it home. The thing didn't transmit or receive data, and it harbored no biohazard or other malady that could be detected. It looked like what it was: a man's ring with a large sapphire embedded in the antique gold. But who the hell had given it to him? The Circ who'd dropped him off at the hotel?

Jules snorted. Yeah, right.

“Thanks,” Tersch mumbled and stood. He didn't look at Jules, and Jules had had enough.

“That’s it. Enough of your moping. You're acting like a goddamn pussy. Now admit the problem.”

The anger that flared on Tersch's face warmed him. For too long Tersch had been acting easygoing, even compliant. Definitely not his personality.

“I'm fine.”

“You're pissing Ava off. You avoid her all the time. You barely look at Olivia, and you've actually been civil to Mrs. Sharpe. When's the last time you called her Alicia to her face? Or flipped Morgan off? Or hell, flirted with Ava?”

“I've never flirted with Ava,” Tersch grumbled. “What the hell's wrong with me being polite?”

Jules needed a drink. Dealing with rogue Circs and avoiding bullets didn't give the headaches this emoting crap did. Olivia should have been doing this. As the team empath, she could siphon off bad emotions when needed. But Tersch refused to let her touch him. It was like the bastard wanted to hold on to his pain.

“You're not being you. Granted, not being a problem for Mrs. Sharpe is a nice change, but even she’s tired of your behavior.” Jules decided to take off the kid gloves. “I know what this is about, and you need to stop it.” Tersch glanced away.

“You're not your father. You would never have intentionally hit Ava. You were pissed.”

“I should have controlled myself.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Jules agreed and read the surprise on Tersch's face.

And that was half the problem. In trying to help him, the team had been too nice.

Tersch needed a foot up his ass to keep him in line. “So next time, keep it under control.”

“Jules, man, I tried.” Tersch ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “It's like there's this festering rage inside me. When you were gone, I knew I could help.

I wanted to help, but no one would let me because Hayashi had one of his damned visions.” Tersch scowled. “Instead, he and Morgan went. That fuckhead.” Jules grinned. “Come on, he's not that annoying.” Tersch stared at him.

“Okay, he is. But he makes Hayashi happy.”

“I know. Why do you think I haven't broken him in two yet? With as much shit as he's been giving me, I should have killed him by now. Asshole thinks he can order me around. And he's way too familiar with Ava,” Tersch muttered then sighed. “It's just hard, you know? For so long, it was just the four of us. Now Fallon's got Olivia, and Hayashi has Morgan.” He flushed, as if embarrassed to admit he was lonely. “I don't… I just… Hell, I don't know.”

“You think I don't feel the same? I can literally see all that love in their auras, that violet energy that surrounds them. It's so beautiful; you have no idea.” Jules wanted that kind of togetherness for himself, so much so, he could taste it. His beast shoved a vision of dark red hair and bright blue eyes at him, demanding the return of his mate, and Jules shook it away. Christ, one problem at a time.

“So what's stopping you from getting hitched?” Tersch asked and grabbed a rag to clean himself. He sank down onto his bed. “You're fairly normal. Women seem to like you well enough.”

“You mean, until I have to admit I fuck men who turn into beasts and that I'm not human anymore?” Jules asked drily. “Sometimes a monster cock isn't a good thing, man.”

Tersch sighed. “Well, there is that. Finding a mate is complicated. But it's not for me. I don't want a mate, a girlfriend, or God forbid, a wife. No ties. Just me and my team.”

Yet Tersch didn't sound convinced.

“Yeah, well, I'm not here to talk you into jumping on board the love train. But interceding the way you did yesterday, throwing yourself between me and those gunrunners in Florida? Not good. You need to stop throwing yourself between me and danger. I can handle myself. No matter what the others have been saying, I'm fine, back to normal, and prepared to kick your ass if you don't quit babying me.”

“Don't you mean fuck my ass?” Tersch griped and shifted on the bed. “Hell, Jules. You pounded me good.”

“You complaining? Because that was an awful lot of cum that splashed over my fingers while I reamed you.”

Tersch flushed. “Whatever.”

Jules looked closer at his teammate, using his psychic skills, and was relieved to see that the gray and blackened streaks through Tersch's aura were finally starting to fade into a warmer red, the color of health.

“Look, I'm not a matchmaker. I could give two shits if you settle down and have a passel of kids.” Which in Jules's opinion was exactly what Tersch needed—some sense of normalcy. “But we work as a unit, and the women are a part of that.

Just turn back into the arrogant asshole that annoys the crap out of them. Because if you don't, I'm turning Sharpe loose on you. She's been dying to have a few one-on-ones. I've been keeping her off your ass.”

Tersch sighed. “Okay, already. Understood. I owe you one.”

“More than one.”

“Damn.”

“And stop avoiding Ava. She's more than pissed. She's hurt you won't talk to her.”

“Thought she didn't want me aggravating her. Thought I was doing her a favor by staying away,” Tersch grumbled.

“Well, you're not. And every time she or Mrs. Sharpe is upset with you, I have to hear about it. So cut it the fuck out. I don't care if you have to pretend. Just go back to acting like a dick.”

Tersch's slow smile showed a hint of fang. “Aye, aye, Lieutenant Hawkins. You want me to be a dick, will do.”

“Terrific,” Jules muttered. Nude, he strode over to the door and opened it. He mentally called out, “Fallon, bring Olivia. I want you two to be all over Tersch. He’s better now, but he could use more help. Make him feel like part of the team. And make him interact with Olivia. Show him he won’t hurt her. We know he won’t, but he’s not convinced.”

Though Jules wasn't telepathic, Fallon was. By projecting hard along the pathway Fallon had created for him, Jules could reach Fallon almost anywhere.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Fallon appeared moments later with Olivia behind him. The sexy woman wore a skimpy little negligee that would have had Jules joining them if another woman's bright blue gaze didn't constantly crop up in his mind's eye. And that he couldn't admit without everyone thinking he'd lost his mind. He shielded his thoughts, concerned Fallon or Olivia might pick up something he didn't want them to.

“Oh hell. Jules, you didn't.” Tersch groaned, especially when Olivia snickered, raced past Jules, and jumped on Tersch on the bed.

Fallon entered. “No, I did. Olivia's missed playing with you, idiot.” Fallon grinned and dropped his shorts. “Now, big guy, how about you give my woman some lovin'?”

Jules left the sound of feminine laughter behind him and shut the door, assured that Tersch would recover. He wasn't yet a hundred percent, but his progression back into the Circ they all knew and loved would come around.

Reentering his own room, he headed straight for the bathroom. In a shower stall big enough to accommodate changed Circs, he washed off the remnants of sex he'd been needing as well. The mating heats had yet to relent. He wondered why Mrs. Sharpe continued to refuse them the shots that usually subdued their carnal needs.

Since she'd replaced Admiral London nearly a year ago, Mrs. Sharpe had taken the team on some weird turns. At first, the Dawn Endeavor mission had been set up to fight science gone wrong around the globe, on behalf of the United States government. After all, who better to exterminate mutant Circs than Circs themselves? Then the admiral's new project had come under attack, and Mrs.

Sharpe had redirected the team to eliminate the new threat. With Captain William Delancey now dead, they had only Colonel Ricardo Montaña and the man or men he worked for to take care of.

Jules swore again, wishing he could recall more details about his time away.

Despite Mrs. Sharpe's attempts to help him remember, he had a lot of dark spots he still couldn't make sense of mingled with bouts of clearheaded specifics. He remembered a Dr. Silva, the presence of rogue Circs. Most of his memories centered on a dark, humid place, where he'd been chained, drugged, and beaten. The heady smell of the tropics tickled his memory, and with it came the sultry scent of a woman and sex and need. The glimpses he had of her told him she had to be real, no matter that no one seemed to know a damn thing about her.

Jules huffed and worked some shampoo into his hair. He was sick of so much secrecy. Conspiracies around every corner. Women who disappeared like ghosts in the night…

No matter how often he tried to move on with his life, snatches of his experience in the jungle continued to return, obliterating any sense of peace. And on the edge of the fists, the knives, and the numbing drugs that held his beast in check, he'd envision the woman his beast considered his. While working on missions, eating his breakfast, or even staring into fucking space, Jules continued to see rich, dark red hair, blue eyes that rivaled the sky for clarity, and a pinup's body that rode his without cease.

As if she remained with him, Jules could feel her body gloving his, could taste the sweetness of her kiss, and experienced the fullness of her feminine curves as he claimed her as his own.

His arousal spiked, despite his recent relief with Tersch. As he soaped himself, he tried to remember more of where he'd been and what he'd seen when he'd been gone.

It didn't surprise Mrs. Sharpe that he couldn't remember much. The drugs in his system, combined with the physical, emotional, and mental toll he'd undergone, confused his memory. To hear Mrs. Sharpe tell it, that was probably a good thing.

Even Jules's beast couldn't make sense of his internment. The creature didn't like remembering, except when it came to the small goddess with large breasts, a tiny waist, and an ass that begged for his attention. Talk about one helluva fantasy to combat Montaña's treatment.

Jules groaned and rubbed his aching cock, needing to come again. His redheaded angel came to help. Her mouth under his, so slick and soft, so needy. That pussy holding him tight, clamping down as he spilled inside her. Those hot hands, such power flowing between them as she cradled his sac and drew on his shaft… He jetted a thick stream of cum against the shower wall and shivered from the intense climax under the cool spray of water.

He hadn't mentioned the woman again, not since he'd asked about her when Morgan and Hayashi found him. He wanted to keep the memory to himself, partially because a part of him still wasn't sure if she had been real or a fantasy.

Neither had he mentioned his growing lust nor the fact that certain sights and scents made him think of her. Bad enough that since he'd been back, everyone kept an eye on him. Olivia and Fallon treated him like a fragile piece of glass they expected to shatter at any moment. Morgan irritated him more than usual, actually being polite while he tried to usurp command of the team. Damned Hayashi watched him all the time with those careful eyes that saw way too much. And Tersch, the jackass, continued to act like his personal bodyguard whenever they went anywhere outside the mansion.

I’m fucking fine. Except for my stupid beast—and cock—needing that woman, I’m good to go. Why the hell can’t they see that?

Jules sighed. He didn't think he'd given any of them reason to distrust his ability to lead. But maybe he had. Being gone for more than six weeks and returning less than focused apparently had them all worried. He flexed his arms.

Starting now, he wasn't taking any more TLC shit from the team. After tonight's display of dominance, hopefully Tersch would stop babying him and take his rightful place as general team troublemaker. Now Jules just had to convince the others to relax and let him resume his place as team leader.

He hadn't anticipated how badly his capture had shaken them all. When Hayashi had gone missing nine months ago, they'd panicked. But they'd recovered him quickly. Abused and left for dead at the hands of Montaña's men, Hayashi had healed fast, thanks to Morgan's odd ability to share his energy with his lover.

Hayashi had rejoined the team in no time flat. Unlike Hayashi, Jules had been missing for a good month and a half. And to make matters worse, none of them had been able to find him. It was as if he'd vanished off the face of the earth.

Where the hell was I?

He didn't have any scars to prove torture, but he remembered enough to know he'd been pounded but good. He winced at the hazy recollection of Montaña stabbing him between his legs, at the flames burning his skin, at the raw rub of metal over open wounds.

His beast rose and growled, sniffing for any impending threat.

Nothing. Not a damned thing, just flashbacks of a danger Jules couldn't totally see. He tamped his beast back down. It went but settled into an uneasy curl.

Jules tried to calm himself, annoyed that he continued to spiral into an inner rage he found harder and harder to shake. He understood Tersch's despair, the need to release the rage, to hurt someone else the way he hurt. Swearing because he felt no end in sight for this confusion and anger, the need for something he couldn't quite name, Jules slammed his fist through the shower's tiled wall.

Bone broke and reformed, but the pain didn't help his frustration. Now he had a hole in the wall and more unanswered questions. Too bad Sheridan wasn't here.

She could have helped.

He froze.

Sheridan.

The name rang inside his mind like a bell, and his beast perked up, aroused and alert.

That quickly, the clarity faded.

But now Jules had a name to go with his dreams. Sheridan.

He finished cleaning himself and turned off the shower. Have to get Jack in here to take a look at the mess I made. At least he can be counted on to be discreet.

The handyman had a decent sense of humor and respected Jules's authority.

Jack Keiser had been an operative in the government at one time, a badass who decided marriage suited him a lot better than the probability of dying on the job.

The odds of living through the dangerous missions he'd been assigned worsened over time. Jules grinned. Then again, Melissa, Jack's wife, probably hadn't given him much of a choice.

Another love match. Another relationship that seemed to work, despite the drudge of day-to-day living. Jules's own parents had their own happily-ever-after, even dying together in a plane crash just days after he'd joined the Circ program.

Fallon loved Olivia more than his next breath, and the woman would do anything for her mate. Hayashi and Morgan fairly lived in each other's pockets, joined at the hip. Tersch, for all his denial, fit well with Fallon and Olivia, who'd seemed to take the big Circ under their wing.

Everyone but Jules had someone special, and his solitude, even among the men and women he considered family, tore at him.

For all of two seconds.

The moment of self-pity infuriated him, and he suppressed his pathetic needs.

When his beast moaned, wanting a mate, Jules shut him up, fast. Suck it up, princess. You’re alive, and you have a job to do. Quit whining. You sound as bad as Tersch.

Jules reached for a towel. He dried off and, after dressing in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, headed downstairs into the family room the team used as a common center.

The large kitchen overlooked the area, which not only had a nice plasma television, pool table, and poker table, but also easy access to the outside via a set of French doors. A fireplace used to heat the downstairs during the colder winter months sat at the opposite end of the room. At present, Hayashi and Morgan played cribbage at the poker table.

He snorted. Trust Hayashi to play a game requiring math. Their sophisticated Circ, as Jules liked to think of him. Hayashi listened to classical music, read books, and wrote poetry—for fun—and had a mate who could speak several languages as well as kick ass in the gym—in spite of the fact that Morgan wasn't Circ.

Wasn't Circ yet could borrow Hayashi's energy to turn himself into a Circ-human hybrid. Shit, by harnessing Hayashi's energy, Morgan could grow bigger and stronger, but without the fangs, claws, and skinlike body armor. But Jules still didn't buy the story that Morgan wasn't Circ. He didn't know how Morgan pulled it off, but his beast knew Morgan was Circ. The same way Jules knew Mrs. Sharpe and Ava Belle had a lot more going on under the surface than either woman would admit.

“Hey, team leader. What's up, hoss?” Morgan grinned and fucking winked at him.

Calling me hoss because he knows it irritates me. Ignore him. Jules drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hayashi, Morgan. You two seem to have developed a card fetish.”

Hayashi snorted. “I'm just trying to let him recoup his losses. Morgan is down four sets of laundry and dish duty on Thursdays.” Morgan scowled. “That's because you keep releasing that scent anytime it looks like I'm winning. That's cheating.”

Hayashi raised a brow but didn't reply, and Jules chuckled. He sat on the comfortable leather couch and tried to lose himself in some mindless television while the pair sniped and tried to outdo each other. Friendly competition, a rivalry based on love, mutual respect, and need.

It had taken Hayashi long enough to admit he was gay, not that Jules hadn't known it for years. But for some reason, Hayashi had thought the team would kick him out if they knew his natural proclivities leaned toward loving men. Jules shook his head. The whole team had fucked one another more times than he could count, and Hayashi worried about them rejecting him for taking a man as mate?

At least Hayashi and Morgan didn't seem to have any major issues, nor did Fallon and Olivia, fortunately.

“Oh, here you are.” Ava entered the room, looking pissed as hell.

He groaned. So much for relaxing for once.

“Ava, baby. What's Kisho holding?” Morgan asked, distracting her.

Hayashi frowned at his mate. “That's cheating.”

“All's fair in love and cards, kitsu.” Little fox. The endearment Morgan called him brought a blush to Hayashi's cheeks.

Ava grinned at them. “Two jacks and two fives. You're screwed.”

“Ava.” Hayashi muttered something under his breath in Japanese.

She turned her attention to Jules. “We have a problem.”

“Look, I talked to Tersch. He's better now. Okay?” Jules squinted at the screen as some actor shot an alien with three heads, hoping she'd leave him alone.

“Our problem is sitting in her study right now, refusing to okay our medical transfer until she talks to you.”

Hayashi and Morgan froze.

“What transfer?” Morgan asked.

“Medical? Are we finally getting a Circ doctor? Man, it's about time,” Hayashi added.

Jules ground his teeth and reminded himself not to take out his annoyance on Ava. “Dammit, I told her we didn't need any new staff. Not with Montaña's men still out there. We can't trust anyone until we nail the leak we seem to have. Montaña is like a ghost. Any time we get close, he disappears. I was taken three miles from a damned US Marine Corps base by men wanted by the CIA. Now how the hell do you think they got so close to me without help from someone in our organization?”

“I'm not disputing that. I'm just telling you, you need to talk to Mrs. S. about this.”

“I don't want anyone else in the one place we should be able to think of as safe.

And I don't want to talk to Mrs. Sharpe about it again. Hell, I'm all talked out.

That's all she's been arguing about for a week.” Ava huffed. “So tell her, not me.”

“No. I want to relax for once,” he muttered, taking the coward's way out. “Hell, Ava. Just tell her I'll talk to her about it tomorrow, okay? I'm tired, I have a headache, and I—”

He broke off when he noticed the concerned glances from the others.

“Fuck it.” He quickly rose and stormed from the room, tired of being constantly watched like he might break. Hell, he felt like Tersch.

Tersch, though, had given them signs he was unstable. Jules hadn't. Since his return to the group, he'd been the same leader, the same take-charge SEAL trying to find and take down their enemy. Not his fault they couldn't seem to nail Montaña's location. During his time back, however, the Dawn Endeavor team had found and stopped two hits on members of the admiral's staff and ruined a failed kidnapping attempt on the admiral himself.

So why did the others continue to treat Jules like a wounded animal? Probably because Fallon can’t keep his mouth shut. I knew that bastard was combing through my mind a few days ago. And just when Jules had flashed back to Montaña's wicked knife. Trust Fallon to share with the others.

He scowled and increased his pace toward Mrs. Sharpe's study. The woman practically lived in there. Day or night, he could always track her down at her desk.

He reached the door right when she opened it.