And then Captain William Delancey appeared and laughed. “I'll win in the end. You'll see.
You can't keep me down, Hawkins. None of you can.” Fallon, Tersch, Olivia, and Kisho boxed the captain in, watching as he decayed where he stood, the blood leeching out of his body and falling into pools that contaminated the very ground.
“Don't touch it!” Morgan shouted from behind Kisho.
Everyone turned to see him fighting through a dark fog to reach Kisho. Jules yelled, but when Kisho looked back, Delancey and Jules had vanished. At the base of the blue flower sat a box. Kisho picked it up and looked through a small hole, where he saw Jules, impossibly small, lying still, caught in the dark.
A roar sounded, the noise of mutants and rogue Circs surrounding them. As they changed into their beasts, Kisho realized Morgan was no longer anywhere to be seen. Frantic to find his mate, he tore through the forests, homing in on the mutants shrieking at something he couldn't see. The scent of blood filled the air, the coppery taste offensive as it shattered the peaceful existence of his garden.
A garden that no longer brightened the house but crumbled with rot and a repugnant stench Kisho knew all too well. The smell of death, so close, so strong.
“Kitsu! I need you!”
Kisho bolted upright in bed and reined in the beast clawing to get out. A glance around showed him alone. The quiet in the room bothered him, and he hurried out of bed. After a quick shower to wipe away the sweat of his nightmare, he dressed and left his room in search of answers.
He wanted to talk to Mrs. Sharpe about his dream that had been anything but normal. Not a vision, but nothing so simple as his subconscious easing into REM sleep either. So very strange.
Kisho saw the future. Not interpretations of it, but the actual future. This dream had been more like a fantasy, a shaman's vision filled with portents and imagery he couldn't decipher.
And Morgan, that crafty, sexy bastard, had avoided his questions once again. Incredible sex followed by such comfort, such utter tranquility. Kisho hadn't felt such care in years, not since his father had first found him decades ago. It had taken time and patience, but Master Chief Petty Officer Paul Leads had eventually taught his son to trust and believe in himself. Losing his father after joining the navy had hurt, but Kisho had his SEAL brothers to see him through, and then his Circ family to help him through the tough transition from man to beast.
Morgan turned everything upside down.
How the hell did he know to call me kitsu? Only Kisho's maternal grandmother had called him that, what felt like a lifetime ago. Before his grandfather had thrown him to the streets, she'd told Kisho that his mate would one day find him. She'd pressed the fox figurine into his hands, and with tears in her eyes, prayed that her kitsu would be safe.
Morgan had the exact same figurine. A companion piece to the one Kisho held. And Morgan called him kitsu. No coincidence, not since Kisho had been dreaming about a man with haunting green eyes, a domineering sensuality, and knowledge of his nickname. For years he'd had visions of Morgan, but lately, they'd been all consuming.
Kisho hadn't known if he'd been dreaming or not when Morgan had rescued him from Montaña's men three months ago. And he still wasn't sure how or if Morgan had healed him.
Hell, I don't know how he healed himself from that bomb blast, or how he turned half-Circ either. Morgan's holding out on me.
Surprisingly, Kisho's beast didn't much care. So much sex had mellowed the damned creature, forcing Kisho to rely on his human instincts.
He stalked through the mansion and found Morgan in Mrs. Sharpe's office.
She smiled when she saw him. “Good. Kisho, I was just going to send Morgan up to find you. I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day.” Morgan turned and winked. “Hey, Kisho. You look much better.”
“Yes, well rested.” Mrs. Sharpe glanced up as the others filed inside her study and sat.
Jules, Tersch, Olivia, and Fallon soon filled the room, making the large study look small.
“'Bout time,” Tersch muttered to Kisho. “Talk about lazing in bed. Damn, son. You put Fallon to shame.”
Fallon scowled. “I'm not lazy. I'm married.”
“Thanks,” Olivia said wryly. “Good to know I'm the reason for your sloth.”
“We're all glad to see you looking better, Kisho,” Jules added. “And Morgan, you look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
Morgan nodded. “Thanks. I feel better. Sorry for freaking you out when I healed. Had no idea what would happen, but I had to try.”
“I wasn't 'freaked,' just a bit surprised.” Jules slid an irritated glance at Fallon, who slid lower in his seat, using Olivia to shield him.
“Your buddy has a big mouth,” Fallon sent to Kisho. “I told Morgan not to say anything.” Kisho glared at Morgan, who conveniently turned back to Mrs. Sharpe.
She shuffled a few folders then put them down on her desk and looked around the room.
“I'm pleased you're all here. We need to discuss a few things. First, I—” Ava rushed into the room. “You were going to start without me?” From her rapid breathing, Kisho figured she'd run through the halls. She ignored Tersch and pulled up a chair next to Morgan.
“I have a few questions of my own,” Jules growled, his attention on Morgan.
Kisho leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Lover or no lover, Kisho wanted to hear what the hell Morgan was hiding.
“You might as well tell them all at once,” Mrs. Sharpe suggested. “I've noticed a tendency in Circs to become slightly more agitated when in a small, enclosed space. Elevated aggression.” Morgan nodded. “Yeah, that's what Doc said.”
“Reynolds,” Tersch warned. “Jules asked you a question.” Kisho wasn't going to interfere. Or so he told himself. But he stepped closer to Morgan, ready to intercede if Tersch tried to take him to the ground.
Morgan stood and joined Kisho against the wall to face everyone. “Go ahead and ask your questions.”
“What are you?” Kisho asked first.
Morgan looked at him, really looked at him, and answered, “I'm a man. Not a Circ, not some war machine sent by the government to spy on you, or a mercenary hired by Montaña to kill you. So let's put that to bed right now. I'm psychic. That's got to be obvious by now.” He glanced across the room. “Even to you, Frederik.”
Tersch tried to leap from his chair, but Jules's quick grab kept him seated.
Jules growled, “Without all the obnoxious commentary, Morgan. Just spit it out. You're psychic. When you spontaneously healed right in front of me, I figured you weren't your average mercenary. So what's your deal?”
“I was born this way.”
“You were born a moron?” Ava asked with a snicker.
Morgan frowned at her before continuing, “My family has a long history of psychic ability. A lot like you Circs.”
“That's true,” Mrs. Sharpe agreed. “The natural instinct all humans have for self-preservation is exaggerated with the Circe serum. Intuition has been argued for years to be a kind of psychic phenomena.”
Morgan nodded. “Right. But seeing the future, reading auras, emotions, and minds isn't normal, even for Circs. The guys up North don't do any of that. They turn into beasts and fight bad guys. Period.”
“That's true,” Olivia said, thoughtful. She turned to Fallon, defensive. “Well, he's right. Even for Circs, you guys aren't exactly normal.”