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Much as she wanted to ignore him in hopes he'd go away, her body betrayed her. She reached up and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He wanted her. His mind and body throbbed with need, and it took Hayashi next to her, clearing his throat, to remind her they were in public.

Jesse pulled away and shoved her drink back into her hand. “That's right, Olivia. You're mine. Don't let any of the other dickheads around here forget it.” He had the nerve to scowl at Hayashi, then practically growled at a pair of men watching on her left and stalked away.

To her chagrin, the men who'd been looking at her quickly departed the area.

So much for a blissful interlude before they had to meet with their contact tomorrow.

Hayashi chuckled. “Relax, Olivia. If you think about it, Fallon's jealousy works to our advantage. Who would think we're here for another reason when your bull of a boyfriend is making such a scene?”

“Yeah, right.” She fanned herself, still hungering for the mate— man, she told herself—she couldn't get out of her head. “Good cover, sure.” She promised herself then and there to make the most of her poolside visit. Who knew how much longer she'd have to linger, pretending she had nothing at all but tan lines to worry about?

The mission aside, Jesse now seemed to think she belonged to him, like a pet or a thing. As if a woman could be something to own. Gunnar and Jules were just as bad with their comments and expectations. As if she should roll over and beg for Jesse's permission to leave the house, talk to her family, or go to the movies. And Jules seemed to consider himself lord of all. She frowned. Lately the only member of the Circ team she could tolerate for any length of time lay next to her in his own chair.

“Kisho, I still don't understand.”

They sat close enough to talk without being overheard by others, grouped in private around the pool.

“What's that?” he asked, his husky voice mirroring the tiredness weighing him down.

Concerned, she'd tried to convince him to confide in her, but he refused to admit anything was wrong. So she'd try another angle and maybe get some information in the process.

“How can anyone think I'm a you-know-what?” A Circ.

He sighed. “It's not a matter of thinking but knowing. We have a certain scent, a feel about us. Haven't you experienced it? Jesse's is a lot like mint. Mine's cinnamon, Tersch's is cedar.

Jules's comes and goes, but he's normally pretty vanilla, which is ironic, considering what he's into.”

He didn't grin, but she sensed his amusement.

“But I'm not. I'd know it, wouldn't I?” But hadn't she listened to an inner wildness lately?

Since meeting Jesse and the others, her thoughts had seemed more primitive, basic yet incredibly complex.

Kisho shrugged. His suit sat low on his hips, and his skin retained a healthy glow that attracted more than his share of admirers, though he didn't seem to notice. “I know how I became what I am. All of us voluntarily underwent the experimental treatment, though I can assure you, we had no idea we'd turn out the way we did.” He sat up and leaned closer to her, his presence both assuring and disturbing.

Not Kisho. Jesse. I want Jesse, something growled deep inside her.

He eyed her knowingly. “You get used to it. I like to think of my inner beast as my id, that part of me that knows instinctively what's best for me. You have yet to see the truth behind the myth, Olivia. It's not just a mental transformation but a physical one.” She swallowed. “I saw the fangs, the claws. I think Jesse's skin turns darker too.”

“There's more. I thought Jesse should show you before we left, but Jules wants you to get used to your place—ah, to try to get used to us first. All these changes at once can be overwhelming.”

Her place. Every time she heard that phrase, she wanted to hit someone. I haven't worked my ass off my entire life to be subservient to some man. “But I'm not one of you. I don't belong.” As much as I might want to. If Jesse would listen to me instead of demanding I accept things, we might come to an understanding.

He now seemed to think they were an item. Sure, the hot sex meant more to her than just a physical pleasure, but come on. She barely knew him. One whole week of mission talk and some kinky sex and he was spouting about forever? Every time she heard the f word she panicked, because instinct kept telling her she'd never shake free of him. That she shouldn't want to.

She'd been around enough Mr. Wrongs to be cautious. She'd earned that right. Now maybe if Jesse lightened up and acted like a gentleman instead of an autocratic Neanderthal, they might continue a relationship when this was over.

Mine, always mine.

She shifted in the lounge chair, aware her skin didn't feel too hot, despite the intense sun.

Coconut-scented lotion brought her attention to the bottle beside her.

“I didn't miss any spots, did I?” she asked.

Kisho rolled his eyes. “No. But if you want me to do your back again so you can flip over, I will.”

Not a hint of lust in his voice.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend, Kisho?”

He stilled. “What do you mean?”

“You're handsome, sexy, intelligent, and sensitive. Is it because you're Circ?” she whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear the c word.

He inwardly seethed with discomfort, and she placed a hand on his arm, wishing him calm.

To her surprise, he relaxed.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You pulled my anxiety.” Calm surprise. “I don't like to talk about my personal life, and you sensed it. Then I suddenly felt at ease.”

“I don't know.”

He stared at her. “You still can't feel Fallon, though, can you?”

“Sometimes.” Like when he wants to fuck me, but rarely about anything meaningful. “He's been sending me thoughts.” Or at least he had been before she'd told him to butt out of her mind.

He hadn't liked that, and he let her know in no uncertain terms. “You still didn't answer my question.”

Kisho turned his head and closed his eyes. “I keep my personal life private.”

“The guys don't care. They hold you in deepest respect. And I think Gunnar actually likes you.”

His lips quirked. “He pretends not to like anyone. He's a big fake. Haven't you seen him watching Ava?”

“Yes, actually.” And maybe the woman watched him back, which would explain why she'd become so cold to Olivia the past few days. Olivia blushed, wondering how the hell Ava could know what they'd done that one night. “My point, which you keep avoiding, is that no one on the team would care. I mean, considering what you all do anyway, how could they?”

“They engage in homosexuality because they have to. It's programmed.”

“But that's the way it is anyway, isn't it?”

He turned to her, surprised. “Ah, I'm not sure.”

His uncertainty softened her, making her like him even more. Kisho Hayashi had the soul of a poet, Ava had said, and she was right. He listened, never offered advice unless asked, and contained his emotions behind a wall of control. But she could feel the loneliness inside him, and it bothered her.

He continued. “But I do know we can only find peace with others like us. Without a mate, we experience severe sexual hungers. Often in the past the hungers worsened into mental instability. No one is actually sure why, but it seems that finding someone to alleviate the need to procreate actually eases the mental burdens that have turned so many of us rogue.”