“Ah, now I get it.” Fallon nodded. “Sorry, Hayashi, but you're broadcasting big-time.” He tapped his forehead. “This whole thing is about acceptance. You're a private guy. We get that.
But you don't have to be on guard with us, not the way you used to be.” Kisho didn't want them to know what his life had once been like, but he could see on their faces that they knew. “Fuck.”
“It doesn't matter what you did before we met you, who you were, where you came from,” Fallon said, and Kisho felt, more than saw, Tersch tense. It didn't escape him they all had things in their pasts they wished they could forget. “Kisho, you are who you are. We're family, man.
And if you found someone who makes you happy, you have to listen up.”
“What does your beast say?” Jules asked.
Kisho felt like a complete mess. He didn't do drama, nor did he put himself out there as much as he was doing now. “He's mine.” Kisho cleared his throat and said again, “Morgan's mine.”
My mate.
Jules surprised him again by nodding. “He wouldn't look away from me. Defended you when he thought I'd insulted you. He knocked Tersch on his ass.”
“He did not. He knocked you on yours, though.” Tersch promptly shut up when Jules growled.
Hell
. Guilt rode Kisho hard. He and Morgan had shared so much in so little time. Had he killed their relationship before it could get started? “Morgan did that?” Jules sighed. “Yeah, the asshole couldn't have cared less that three
changed
Circs challenged him to man up. He was prepared to go to the wall for you. Claimed you were his and everything.”
Fallon shook his head. “And then you told Jules you fucked Morgan because he
ordered
you to. Nice going.”
Tersch slung an arm around Kisho's shoulders. “Dude, you have some serious groveling to do. You're good with poetry, but you might want to talk to Fallon about how to make up to your mate. He pisses Olivia off a good four or five times a day, but she puts up with him.” Kisho groaned. He'd really screwed up with Morgan. And as happy as he was that his friends would stand by him, that they accepted him for who he was, his beast fretted about his mate.
“Jules? What about you?” he had to ask. “You okay with Morgan being a part of us?”
“Seems like he's already been a part of you.”
Tersch snickered, and Fallon choked on a laugh.
Jules added, “But he and I are going to have to come to an agreement. If he stays, he needs to know what being a part of the team means.”
Kisho swallowed hard, trying to stifle his beast's possessive insistence that Morgan belonged to him and him alone.
“It'll get easier,” Fallon acknowledged. “I had a hard time sharing Olivia at first, but now she's a part of the team. We only play with others when
she
wants to. It'll be the same with Morgan.”
Jules nodded. “That's the way we're made. I'm alpha, for better or worse. I can accept Morgan as yours, but my beast needs to acknowledge him as mine, too. And he needs to know there's a pecking order,” Jules ended with a snort.
Jules would need to fuck Morgan into submission, the way he'd done the others. Kisho understood, but he didn't like it. “Well, this may all be moot if I can't get him to forgive me.” Tersch pointed to Fallon. “And there's your answer, my friend. The king of 'I'm sorry.'”
“Dick.”
“You wish.” Tersch turned to Kisho with a grin. “Oh, my bad. Am I not supposed to make any more dick jokes in front of the gay dude? Am I being insensitive again?”
“At least you're consistent.” Kisho shook his head, but inside, he wanted to shout with joy.
Everyone knew the truth, and none of them cared. Nothing had changed, except he had one more hurdle to overcome before he could find a future of happiness. Now to find Morgan and put his mate to rights.
“He's not here?” Kisho stared at Mrs. Sharpe in shock.
“I'm really surprised at you, Kisho.” She shook her head. “If you knew all that boy has done for you. And to treat him like that. How could you?” Kisho blinked away his guilt and cleared his throat.
“Morgan offered to reconnoiter our situation down in Florida. In a few hours, he should be in place to give us a live feed on Delancey.”
Kisho itched to find Morgan, but he wondered if that was best. Maybe Morgan needed space. Maybe he hadn't meant what he'd said about claiming Kisho. Maybe he'd changed his mind.
“Kisho Hayashi, you are sorely trying my last nerve.” Mrs. Sharpe stood and rounded her desk to join him. The petite woman came up to his breastbone. But she poked him in the chest with a finger made of iron. “Morgan is seriously hurting, and I don't put it past him to be more reckless than he needs to be. You go get him and bring him back in one piece.” When he didn't move, she added in a loud voice, “
Now
.”
Morgan stared down at the city without seeing it. If hearts could break, his had a definite tear in it. He'd never gone down without a fight and wouldn't now, but dammit all. How the hell could his kitsu have turned on him like that? Make him feel like nothing in the span of a single denial?
Deliberately making a mockery of what they'd shared hurt. Did Kisho think it would put him in better stead with his friends? The Circs were Kisho's life, Morgan knew. But they didn't seem to mind Morgan all that much. While Kisho had spent the better part of the week avoiding him, the others had done their damnedest to share important things about Kisho's life, as if giving Morgan a subtle okay to pursue his kitsu.
Fallon told him stories upon stories about Kisho. Jules was always there in the gym, testing Morgan, pushing him to be better, to move faster. He'd seemed impressed when Morgan kept up.
It wasn't easy dealing with Circs, but Morgan thought he'd done all right. He'd even calmed Ava a few times after her flare-ups with Tersch, for which the giant seemed grateful, though he'd yet to say thank you. He'd watched Morgan like a hawk, but he hadn't crowded him.
None of the Circs really bothered him, come to think of it. They'd given him space to hang around Kisho. And offered him tidbits of Kisho's likes and dislikes, whether they knew it or not.
Olivia had mentioned Kisho's love of white roses.
Morgan overheard Jules and Fallon talking about Kisho's penchant for writing poetry and reading while the rest of them played cards or billiards.
Tersch complained about Kisho's “stupid classical crap that any idiot with half a brain would find annoying.” Then he'd pointed to several of Kisho's CDs lying near the stereo, showing Kisho's taste for Vivaldi, Haydn, Mendelssohn, and Mozart.
Ava, bless her, had run interference with Alicia, distracting the older woman by stirring up fights with Tersch and inventing computer problems Morgan knew she could have dealt with on her own. Leaving him more alone time with Kisho.
All that, only to have his mate reject him in front of those he considered family.
Morgan rubbed his chest, as if the metaphorical notion of a broken heart applied.
One step forward last night, a huge step back today. Terrific. If that weren't disheartening enough, he'd found Delancey and Montaña. Another reason for him to no longer be of any need to Kisho or his friends.
Morgan sighed. If he'd had his own beast, he'd be tearing through walls right now. Instead, he wanted to punch something. Or someone. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and stared at both monitors. One was mounted to the wall; the other was a portable television he'd brought with him.
From here, he watched Delancey and Montaña party with whores and drug dealers. Two of Morgan's more trusted contacts followed the dealers, while his ace in the hole planted the listening devices that pegged Delancey's agenda for the next week.
If Alicia wanted to tag the bastard, she'd need to move fast.
Morgan thought about doing the guy himself, because from what he'd seen and heard, Delancey was responsible for a lot of bad stuff. He didn't know as much about Montaña, nor could Morgan figure out why Delancey's boss kept him around. From what he'd seen, Delancey did little more than fuck, drink, and do drugs. The weird shit he kept injecting gave him hard-ons and visions, not exactly what Morgan had expected.
From what Alicia had described, the “wonder drug” Montaña was peddling turned users catatonic. Sure, they'd see things and relay the information. Then they'd go into seizures, lose consciousness, and eventually die. According to Morgan's insider, Delancey's drug was the new and improved version of the one Alicia wanted. Which meant she was in for a surprise, because it worked, and men would pay a helluva lot to get a psychic woody that wouldn't quit.
The image made him chuckle, the first laugh he'd had all day.
As quickly as the smile appeared, it vanished. Morgan stared at the small fox figurine he'd brought with him, unable to bear parting from it.
His cell phone rang, but he ignored it. Alicia again, by the ringtone, pestering him to come home, no doubt. He didn't need her lectures, or her “I told you sos.” Yeah, so she'd told him to go slow with Kisho. But who could blame him for not being able to resist such a gorgeous, thoughtful, sensitive soul? So what that he and his lover didn't know each other that well? They had a connection, a psychic link that went far beyond the physical. And that was to say nothing of the fireworks that shot between them body to body.
Morgan grimaced at the hard-on that continued to bother him at thoughts of his stubborn lover. How the hell could Kisho be so smart, so sophisticated in his tastes, and not want
him?
“Shit. Women throw themselves at me. Men line up to get fucked. And my little fox pretends we're nothing?” Morgan swore under his breath again and planned all the devious ways he'd take his bad mood out on his lover's hide.
A hard butt fuck, some chains, a flogger. Maybe a ball gag and some leathers thrown into the mix, especially considering what he knew about Kisho's liking for pleasured pain.
Morgan stretched and yawned, then glanced at the clock. No wonder he was tired. He'd been on the go for twenty-four hours, unable to sleep after bonding to Kisho.
Bonding, is that
what we really did
? Depression hit him hard, and he knew he needed to recharge. If anything unexpected happened, his sources would call. He had a special ringtone for his inside man, as well as his trusted contacts on the water. And with Delancey's boat only a few miles off the coast, its location tracked by a device affixed to the ship's voyage data recorder, it wouldn't take much to catch him.
Morgan stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed. His dreams, as he'd expected, revolved around Kisho.
Hours later, he wakened to movement in the room. Pretending sleep, he waited until he felt his intruder close. Then he sprang. Out of bed, he knocked into a large body, and they both fell to the floor. They wrestled around until the scent of cinnamon filled the air. He froze.
“Kisho?”
“Yeah, let go of my throat,” Kisho wheezed and tugged at Morgan's forearm.
Morgan released him and rolled again, so that Kisho lay beneath him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked more harshly than he'd intended.
“Mrs. Sharpe was worried you'd do something stupid.”
Shoving off him and leaping to his feet, Morgan swore. He ran a hand through his hair and blinked when the lights suddenly blinded him.
Kisho took advantage and knocked him to the bed, where the Circ straddled him and pinned his hands above him. “Sorry, Morgan. I'm here to make sure you don't hurt yourself.” Morgan laughed, but he wasn't amused. “That's rich.”
“He's not kidding,” a deeper voice added from the shadows. Julian Hawkins stepped forward, his hands on his hips, and shook his head. “I'm surprised at you, Morgan. You seemed a lot quicker the other day in the gym.”
“Fuck off, Hawkins.” Morgan didn't like Hawkins invading his space with Kisho so near.
“Nice setup.” Hawkins leaned in for a closer look at the monitors. “So you really have Delancey on camera, hmm? That cocksucker. And I don't mean that as a compliment.” Morgan would have laughed if he hadn't been so confused. “What's going on? Why are you here?”
Hawkins exchanged a glance with Kisho. “Tell him, Kisho. Explain exactly why we're here. And don't be shy.” To Morgan's shock, Jules Hawkins started taking off his clothes.
And then firm lips covered his, and Morgan lost all train of thought. His kitsu's mouth caressed, his tongue invaded, and heat blistered Morgan's control to nothing. Hunger took over, consuming him as his lover made slow, sweet love to his mouth. Everything but Kisho faded, and he arched up to rub his dick against the hard cock against him.
“Mm, you taste so good,” Kisho murmured against his throat. Then he nipped and licked a spot of blood. As he did, he tightened his grip around Morgan's wrists, his strength a thing of beauty.
Morgan gasped, the erotic pain so good.
“Didn't think I'd say it, but that's sexy.” Hawkins stood to the side of the bed, naked, aroused, and
changed
. “Now tell him, Kisho. Before I seriously lose it. You've been driving the rest of us crazy with this damned extended heat. Yeah, it's you two, not Fallon and Olivia.” Kisho flushed and gave Morgan a quick kiss. In a movement too fast to track, Kisho and Hawkins switched places. The familiar scent of cinnamon was taken over by a musky vanilla.
Unfamiliar yet sexy, Hawkins captivated with his huge body. He licked his fangs and rubbed his massive cock over Morgan's belly. “Nice abs,” he growled and leaned close to sniff at Morgan's neck. “Oh yeah. You smell like my Kisho.”
“
My
Kisho,” Morgan automatically corrected.
Hawkins opened his mouth and closed it over the pinprick at Morgan's throat. A raspy tongue licked before Hawkins lifted his head in puzzlement. “No more blood? No wound?'
“I heal fast.” Morgan shifted and groaned when he rubbed against Jules. “Now would you get off? Kisho?”
Morgan tried to look around Hawkins, but Jules moved with him. “Something we need to get straight, Morgan. Kisho says you belong to him. But he belongs to
me
. If you want him, you have to prove it.”