“Fuck! Morgan, Jesus. Morgan, wake up.”
He blinked up into water droplets. Jules, soaking wet, gazed down at him in horror and pushed down on his chest.
Morgan tried to stop him, to question what the hell Hawkins thought he was doing, but instead he coughed, spewing water. And then he was suddenly unable to breathe.
“Shit. Not now. Morgan, you are such a pain in my ass. Hold on, man. Kisho is gonna—”
* * *
“Hold him down. Don't let him go,” Mrs. Sharpe directed Tersch, Ava, and Fallon as they tried to hold a bucking Kisho to the couch.
Kisho wanted to tell them not to bother, but he couldn't unclench his jaw.
“Olivia, hurry. Draw some of the pain.”
Olivia touched him. He knew because he saw her from above, looking down on everyone in the study. Odd. One minute he'd been seeing into the future—or was that the present? Morgan on a boat, talking to some nervous guy, probably his contact. Then an explosion. Fire, bodies strewn everywhere. And there in the water, floating facedown, lay Morgan.
Jesus, oh no. Please no
. Kisho darted back into himself, not sure how he did so. He writhed and jerked, trying to wake up, to tell them what to do and where to look. He could see it so clearly. Could see Ava and the others trying to help him, but at the same time, he could see Jules diving into the water to drag Morgan to safety. Pulling him into a boat, then to the shore where Morgan lay on a sandy bank, his beautiful skin burned. The gaping wound in his chest looked really, really bad. Blood flowed everywhere. Jules was yelling at Morgan.
Morgan didn't answer.
“I'm right here, kitsu. I'm okay.”
But he wasn't, not if Kisho could see his ghostly image in Mrs. Sharpe's study, when by rights, Morgan's body lay several hundred miles away, wounded, on some deserted shore.
“I'm good, lover.”
“Lover?”
Morgan laughed, then frowned and clutched his chest. “Jules has no bedside manner. Did
you like my roses?”
The change in subject threw him. “What?”
“My roses. I know you like white. And I read your poem when you weren't around. The one
about thorns and purity and love.”
“Dick, that was private.” He paused. “Did you like it?”
“I loved it.” Morgan's sweet smile touched him, really touched him, and he felt shy all of
the sudden. “I want to talk to you about it, but this really hurts. I need your help.”
“What can I do?”
“I'm not sure.” Morgan frowned. “But, I can feel them so close. I think… Ava and Alicia. I
need you to reach out and grab them.” His voice and image faded. “Hurry.”
Kisho blinked and gasped as his breath and sight returned. His chest hurt like a bitch. But he did as Morgan had asked. He stopped moving. When Mrs. Sharpe and Ava let go of him, he latched on to their arms. He held tight, past the yells, past Tersch's bellow, and even past the fire of pain blazing through his chest.
Dimly aware when they toppled onto him, he heard Tersch's roar and Olivia's cry for help.
Then Fallon was there, and everything went black.
* * *
Thirty-six hours later
Morgan groaned, aching all over. As he slowly rose to consciousness, he realized that though the healing process had alleviated much of his body aches, his head still throbbed. The nature of his ability, such as it was, pertained to energy, to connections. His strong bond to Kisho, despite the stubborn man's insistent denial, remained true, or Morgan would be dead right now.
He'd pulled at Kisho's energy to heal himself, but it hadn't been enough. His ties to Alicia and Ava had done the trick, apparently. Using his lover as a conduit was a clever guess on his part, if he did say so himself. But he had a feeling Alicia wouldn't be pleased.
He sniffed but didn't scent salt air or Jules nearby. Where the hell was he?
“Oh good, he's waking up.” Ava's relief made him want to smile. Ava—he must have returned to North Carolina.
He scented Kisho close. When he brushed his hand against warm skin, he turned his head and opened his eyes.
Long, dark eyelashes fanned the shadows under Kisho's closed eyes. Asleep but otherwise healthy. Relief made Morgan light-headed for a moment. If anything had happened to Kisho, he didn't know what he'd do.
The scent of Ava's sweet perfume lingered, and she leaned over him to whisper, “I really am glad you're better. You scared the shit out of me.” He blinked up at her. “Sorry.”
“Yeah. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll geld you myself,” she hissed.
Not a fan of his energy tap. Great. He couldn't wait to see Alicia's reaction.
“Ava?” Tersch's deep voice. “Easy, baby.”
“Stop calling me baby,” she snapped and wobbled on her feet.
In seconds, Tersch scooped her into his strong arms.
Morgan glanced around him as the room came into better focus. Natural shades, minimalist prints on the walls, and small plants dotted every ledge and table. He was in Kisho's room. No wonder he felt so much better. The energy all around him comforted and eased the emptiness he'd waited a lifetime to fill.
An arm brushed his, and he turned back. “Kisho?” he rasped and fell into a coughing fit.
Someone pressed a glass against his lips, and he automatically swallowed the cool water.
“Thanks—” The rest of what he wanted to say stuck in his throat when he glanced up into the fury that darkened brown eyes to black. Oh hell.
Mrs. Sharpe
was thoroughly pissed.
“Don't you
ever
do that again!”
Okay, yeah, pulling energy without asking was tantamount to a psychic assault. But he hadn't intentionally yanked so much. He would have taken from Hawkins if the man had lesser shields. Desperate, he'd sought the one source closest to his heart. To his surprise, Morgan's attachment to Kisho apparently transcended space. Because he shouldn't have been able to pull from such a distance, let alone tap into two more powerful psychics. A Hail Mary of a plan that actually worked.
He swallowed. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to, but the thought just came to me that you could help.”
Tersch growled, “What the hell is he talking about?
He's
the one who made you two pass out?”
Mrs. Sharpe poked Morgan hard in the chest.
“Ow!”
“Oh, hush! You're already on the mend. By tomorrow, you won't even sport a bruise. I'm annoyed with you for stealing what you should have asked for.”
“I said I'm sorry—”
“But I'm
angry
because you needlessly walked into a situation you knew to be wrong.
What have I always told you about listening to your instincts? Stupid boy,” she muttered and left, but not before smacking him again.
She blew by Olivia and Fallon, who entered on the heel of her wake.
“Thank God you're conscious.” Fallon sighed. “Olivia's been bugging the hell out of me.
Stubborn woman threatened to move into your room and keep watch. Kisho looks better, too.” Fallon narrowed his stare at Kisho and flushed.
What the hell is that about
? “Ah, you know, Olivia, I think we need to talk to Mrs. Sharpe. In fact, I know Jules wants to meet with us.
Tersch, you coming?”
“Soon as I tuck the beauty queen into bed.”
Ava squirmed. “Ass. You're just taking advantage because I'm not at my best.” The smile Tersch gave her set the room ablaze. Lust and a healthy dose of affection actually made the big guy look friendly. A first for sure. “Hell yeah, I'm trying to take advantage.
Getting into your pants has become an obsession.”
Ava snorted, and her lips curled. “You're so full of it.”
“I really am.” He whispered something in her ear that had the others laughing and Olivia red-faced.
Ava sputtered. “You…my…oh! Frederik Gunnar Tersch, you take me back to my room and put me down!
Right now
.”
Tersch sighed and carried her toward the door. “So much for being not at your best. You're still the meanest woman I know.”
Somehow, “meanest” on Tersch's lips sounded like a compliment.
The pair left. Olivia moved forward and put her hand on Morgan's bare shoulder. A glance down his body showed him covered to the waist by a blanket. He had a feeling he wasn't wearing anything, and he had to concentrate on not thinking about Kisho so close to him. Fallon would kill him if he thought Morgan sported an erection for Olivia.
“You look much better.” Olivia smiled.
Morgan smiled back.
Fallon put his arm around his wife and tugged her away from Morgan, hugging her close.
The dark look he shot Morgan was telling.
She continued, “I'm not sure what you did yesterday, but I know it was you. When Kisho stopped seizing, he grabbed on to Mrs. Sharpe and Ava, and I could literally feel you in the room with us. The energy jumping around the room was crazy.” Fallon nodded. “Yeah. I read minds. That's it. But even I could feel so much power ripping from Ava and Mrs. S. into Kisho. That's wild, man. And let me tell you, when you just started regenerating in front of Jules, it freaked him the hell out.” Fallon glanced over his shoulder for his boss. “But don't tell him I said that.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Morgan asked. “I wanted to thank him for pulling my ass out of the water. It happened so fast. I was talking to Tomas, then
wham
. The boat blew.” Fallon shook his head. “You're really lucky. Last I saw Jules, he was on the phone with Admiral London and Mr. Anderson. Anderson's a friend in DC, one of Mrs. Sharpe's cronies, supposedly.”
Olivia explained, “He means Mrs. Sharpe will neither confirm nor deny the closeness of their association. But she likes Ron.” Olivia paused and frowned at her husband. “Jesse, he told me to call him Ron. I'm not being 'forward.' Jeez.” Silence, then she glared. “Oh, shut up.” She turned back to Morgan. “I'll see you later. I'm suddenly in the mood for a run to get away from all this testosterone.”
She huffed and left.
Fallon shrugged. “She can say what she wants, but that Anderson guys rubs me the wrong way. The last time he visited I got a weird vibe. I don't like the way he looks at her.”
“You don't like the way anyone looks at her,” Morgan reminded him.
Fallon surprised him with a sheepish grin. “True. But hey, my woman, my right. I have to talk to Jules. Look after Kisho, okay? Oh, and just a warning. Tersch has some ugly thoughts you might want to watch out for. He wasn't too happy you juiced Ava to get better, and he's gonna nail your ass soon as you're walking.”
Morgan groaned. “Tell him to get in line behind Mrs. Sharpe.”
“Can do. And you know, since Mrs. Sharpe doesn't have anyone to speak up for her, I think I'll take a whack at you on her behalf. After Tersch, of course.” Fallon grinned. “Get better soon. You're going to need all the help you can get.” He left and closed the door behind him.
Morgan didn't much care about the threat of retribution. He deserved it; no matter that he hadn't intended to hurt anyone in his zealous pursuit of survival.
Kisho moaned and brushed a hand against Morgan's side. Morgan's body hardened in response. Every place the sheets touched set him ablaze. He couldn't wait any longer. Morgan turned on his side to see Kisho. He wore nothing but jeans and lay on top of the bed. Had Kisho put himself there, or had one of the others tossed the sick patients together? Why the blanket between them? Did the others—did Kisho—really think cotton could keep them apart?
Gently easing out from under the blanket, Morgan shifted his legs over the side of the mattress and took his time standing. The burns and breaks in his body had healed. Alicia was right when she said he wouldn't have a bruise or a scar by tomorrow.
Morgan never got sick, never hurt for long, and could heal himself from near-death under the right circumstances. Like having a psychic lover who also happened to be superhuman. The energy Kisho generated was mind-boggling, intense, and more than a little scary.
Morgan walked gingerly to Kisho's bathroom and took care of nature's call. As he showered, he wondered about his fierce attraction to his future mate. There was no denying Kisho's beauty. Smooth, pale skin. Silky dark hair that framed a face made for seduction. Those exotic eyes, so dark, slanted just enough to show Kisho's Asian ancestry. Firm lips, high cheekbones, and that firm, square jaw. Christ, he didn't even need to start thinking about Kisho's incredible body. Those tight abs, that long, thick cock.
Morgan bit back a groan and ignored his raging hard-on. The time for distance had ended.
He wanted Kisho, and his little fox wanted him just as badly. He knew it. Kisho knew it. Time to stop playing games. If anything, Morgan's brush with death had shown him that there might not be a next time. So why wait to share what he felt?
After finishing his shower, he dried off and left his towel behind. The cool air on his body should have cooled his ardor, but if anything, the contrast to his body heat encouraged his arousal. He rejoined Kisho and simply stared.
Big, but not as big as me, Morgan thought with satisfaction. As a Circ, Kisho would top him. But now, here, Morgan ruled. Always a dominant lover, he'd occasionally let himself be taken, if only to prepare himself for his kitsu. He wasn't sure how Kisho would want it, but Morgan promised himself not to disappoint.
Though he'd made love to men and women throughout the years, he preferred men. And he liked them big—not small, effeminate boys, but strong, strapping fighters.
“You are
so
my type,” he whispered and stroked a finger over Kisho's cheek.
Kisho didn't stir, but Morgan tired of waiting. He dug into the nightstand beside the bed and took out a tube of lube and a few condoms, items he'd found when he'd snooped a few days ago. Fuck, but he wanted to lube himself up and shove hard and fast into Kisho's tight ass. But he wouldn't take, not now. This first time would be all about giving. He knew what the Circs needed from their mates.
Morgan grinned, trying to imagine how Kisho would take the news that they had more in common than anyone knew. Kisho moaned in his sleep and slid his hand down to his crotch.