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.