Dawn Endeavor 2: Hayashi's Hero

by Marie Harte

  He'd always preferred men over women. The one time he'd tried fucking a female he hadn't enjoyed it. Frankly, the female form did nothing for him. Oh, he easily conceded Olivia's sensuality and Ava's incredible beauty, but sexually, they left him cold. His friends, on the other hand, made his temperature rise without even trying. And his natural attraction embarrassed him.

  He knew his fellow Circs only engaged in sex with each other because they were driven to it. Not wanting to alienate the only people he considered family, Kisho didn't draw attention to himself. Though he thought by now they might suspect something, he refused to give them an opening to reject him. The navy's “don't ask, don't tell” policy continued, even though their official time in service had ended.

  Jules and the others had accepted Circ bisexuality easier than he'd thought they might, but at the end of the day, they still sought females when hungry for human sex.

  “Dude, I hate when you get all quiet.” Tersch grumbled and kicked at his feet. “You okay?”

  Fallon answered for him. “He likes to think a lot, something you wouldn't know much about.”

  “Ass.”

  “It's always about my ass, isn't it?” Fallon said with a fake leer. “I know you want it, but don't beg, Frederik. It's pathetic.”

  Tersch grinned, showcasing sharp fangs. “Your demon wife isn't here to protect you, pretty boy. Watch what you say. I have no problem bending you over while you suck off my good buddy.” He turned to Kisho, a bright glint in his sky blue eyes. “You in? It'll be tight, but we've done it before.”

  Shit. That damned mating heat again. Even Fallon looked affected, and Olivia normally satisfied his cravings.

  The blare of a horn and the approach of bright lights outside saved him from answering.

  Kisho cleared his throat. “Our prisoners' escorts are here. I'll take care of the transfer.” He shot out of the SUV and slammed the door behind him, willing his erection, if not away, at least down enough not to be noticeable. Hopefully the shadows from the overhead streetlamp would hide the bulge in his jeans.

  Stepping forward to the cuffed mercenaries chained to the telephone pole in the center of the barren parking lot, he saw the men shiver. Fallon had forgotten to give them blankets.

  Forgetful guy.

  Three dark SUVs that screamed government stopped ten feet from the pole. Doors opened, and a dozen men in suits appeared and surrounded him. Not much of a threat, even with their bulky jackets that failed to mask the firearms he knew they carried.

  “These them?” one bureaucrat asked. “They look cold. No blankets in this weather? They probably have hypothermia,” he said with a frown and glanced at the running SUV.

  Kisho tsked. “You know, we asked them if they wanted to share the vehicle with us, but for some reason, they preferred the outdoors.” He flashed the civilian his teeth and saw the older man swallow. Amazing how a bit of fang could instill fear. And they weren't even halfway extended.

  “Right. Ah, Miguel? Need your language skills, front and center.”

  Miguel shouldered his way past the others and started speaking in rapid Portuguese. At first, the prisoner didn't answer. Miguel didn't raise his voice, but whatever he said had the prisoner looking from him to Kisho. He started talking, a rapid spatter of words that didn't cease.

  Happy to leave the bastards to someone else, Kisho slapped Miguel on the back. Miguel nearly fell over, and Kisho caught him before he toppled over the prisoners. “I can see they're in good hands. Make sure the conscious one gets back to Mrs. Sharpe. She wants one of our team members to take a crack at him.” He watched them load the mercenaries in the van. “Best of luck, gentlemen.” He nodded and walked toward his own SUV.

  Before he reached the vehicle, he turned and watched the government vans pull away until their fading taillights winked out of sight.

  Overhead, the moon disappeared behind a mass of clouds. The streetlight flickered and then died. The cold made the emptiness of the space feel like the lot where he'd fallen all those months ago. Except here shouts, backfiring cars, and occasional gunfire filled the night. Not the best section of town to frequent. Then again, the way he felt, he looked forward to a scuffle.

  The faint, tempting scent of cedar and mint drifted through the partially open driver's window.

  Hell. They wouldn't. Not here, not now. His entire body tensed, and his cock throbbed, hard in an instant.

  He quickly opened the driver's side door to the SUV and started to enter. He froze at what he saw: Tersch and Fallon in the back. Together. Fallon had his head buried in Tersch's lap.

  Neither male wore pants.

  Tersch groaned. “Fuck, that's it. I hate the mating heat sometimes, but not right now. Oh man, you're only getting better with practice. Olivia likes to watch you go down, doesn't she?” Kisho couldn't move, caught in a lust so extreme, it hurt.

  No question. The damned mating heat was back.

  “Come on, Hayashi. Shut the door, man. You're letting all the hot air out,” Tersch said on a gasp and buried his hands in Fallon's hair.

  Swearing, wishing he didn't want this but wanting it more than his next breath, Kisho slammed the door shut and opened the passenger door instead, letting himself in. He closed and locked the door behind him, shucked out of his jeans, and positioned himself behind Fallon.

  His beast rose to the fore, and Kisho thickened, the familiar oils of arousal secreting around his changed cockhead to make the taking easier. He consciously transformed all of himself back to normal, though it wasn't easy. He wanted to remain in control of himself for once.

  He rubbed his body's natural lube up and down his cock and groaned when the scent of mint intensified. Apparently, deep throating Tersch was turning Fallon on, because his pheromones flooded the space. Not to be left out, Kisho gripped Fallon's hips, angled for penetration, and slowly pushed forward.

  “Oh, yes,” he hissed and threw back his head, taken with the incredible intimacy, the sense of belonging he felt every time he fucked one of his team. Fallon's tight ass gloved him, but careful not to ram too hard, Kisho inched inside until he fully seated himself.

  Fallon groaned and gasped, letting go of Tersch. “Damn, Hayashi, you fully changed or what? Man, I am stuffed. Olivia is going to be pissed she missed this.” Kisho grunted and pulled out, then pushed back inside Fallon's warmth.

  “Stop talking and suck,” Tersch growled. “You know Hayashi's big when he's not changed. Big cock for a little man.”

  “Little, my ass. I'm only four inches shorter than you,” Kisho growled back and started reaming Fallon harder, unable to help himself. His own arousal lingered, a subtle cinnamon that layered over the grunts and groans among them.

  Tersch tilted his hips and arched, shuddering on a moan. “I'm coming hard. Swallow me.

  Oh yeah.” He came, stirring Kisho to reach his end.

  “Gonna fill you up,” Kisho warned and tightened his hands on Fallon. “Just let me come, and I'll suck you off soon as I'm done.” He loved feeling a warm cock in his mouth, and the idea of going down on Fallon only increased his arousal.

  Fallon jerked, and Kisho shot hard, unloading the pent-up rage, hunger, and desire always riding him lately. An image of emerald green eyes filled his mind's eye as he climaxed, obliterating the good mood that settled over him.

  Not about to lose it all, he finished and withdrew from Fallon, then shoved Fallon onto the seat next to Tersch. In seconds he engulfed Fallon's dripping cock and took him to the back of his throat.

  “Shit, yes. That's it. More.” Fallon bucked up as Kisho licked the sweet spot under his glans. “Kisho, so damned good. Best blowjobs. Fuck, yeah,” he groaned and spent quickly, filling Kisho's mouth with warm cum.

  The orgasm must have stirred Tersch again because before Kisho knew it, the big bastard had moved behind him. He felt something large and hard prodding his anus. He couldn't escape even if he'd wanted to, sandwiched in the confines of the SUV between two massive men. And he was
no lightweight himself.

  Stuffing him full, Tersch rocked him against Fallon, who hadn't finished coming if his hardening cock was anything to go by.

  “Circ stamina makes everything better,” Tersch said on a breath. “That's it. Open for me, Kisho. Let me all the way in.”

  The only time they'd call him by his first name. When they fucked. Together as one, closer than brothers. A part of each other. Circ.

  Kisho took the sex and called it loving, needing there to be more. He didn't think again of the man with green eyes.

  Much.

  Chapter Two

  They returned to the house the next day pleasantly sated. Kisho hadn't been sleeping well lately. He'd commandeered the backseat, and the orgasm he'd had before their eight-hour drive back to the mansion in North Carolina had given him a much-needed rest.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we're here.” Tersch's gruff voice never failed to amuse him.

  Though the lumbering Viking liked to act like the bully on the block, he'd give his life to protect his team.

  Kisho stretched. “Thanks, Blondie.”

  Tersch hated the nickname only slightly less than Frederik—his real name and the moniker Fallon continually called him by, if only to irritate him. The giant swore and slammed out of the truck.

  “Nice one.” Fallon grinned at him over the front seat before exiting the vehicle.

  Kisho trailed after them inside, wondering how much time Mrs. Sharpe would give them before demanding a full account. And there she stood, just inside the foyer, waiting for them.

  For a petite and deceptively slight-looking woman, Mrs. Sharpe commanded the Dawn Endeavor Circ team with the utmost authority. With skin the color of rich earth, intelligent amber eyes, expensive clothing that suited her petite frame to perfection, and a frosted sweep of black hair framing her elegant face, the woman could have passed for forty, though Kisho personally thought she neared the end of sixty.

  As usual, ivory pearls stood out against her throat and earlobes, like a talisman of quality that only added to her imaginable worth. The woman remained a mystery even after four months of working with them. She had more than political power; she had psychic power as well. Of that he was certain. But what kind and how much, none of them knew.

  Admiral London called her a troubleshooter. Kisho thought trouble maker made more sense. So far, she'd managed to take them off the meds keeping their mating heats in check. She worked with them to expand their psychic abilities until their heads ached. And she continued to push them into doing jobs they didn't want to do, instead of going after Delancey with both barrels blazing.

  “Kisho, Gunnar, Jesse.” She nodded, calling them each by their given names, and smiled.

  “You made good time. I didn't expect you back until later today.”

  “Fallon was lovesick, so we took pity on him,” Tersch said with a straight face.

  Fallon frowned but didn't deny it. “Where's Olivia?”

  “She didn't get much off the mercenary Miguel brought us. Miguel left with the merc right before you arrived. Olivia's currently with Jules and Ava, entertaining the newest member of our team.”

  Kisho and his friends froze.

  “Excuse me?” Kisho asked, feeling not at all well. A psychic flare of change settled into his bones like a virus.

  “We need all the help we can get tracking down Colonel Montaña. So I brought in a tracking expert. He knows Spanish and Portuguese—”

  “Olivia speaks that.”

  She ignored Kisho's interruption. “And he knows how these men work, since he used to be a mercenary.”

  “A merc?” Fallon groaned.

  “I said 'used to be,'” she corrected.

  Tersch huffed. “Great, Alicia. Why not put out an ad in the paper and ask for guns for hire?”

  A look from her and he glanced away, stiff and unyielding, until Ava entered the foyer.

  Kisho found it interesting that Ava spent as much time not looking at Tersch as he spent staring at her, not that Kisho could blame him. Ava had the face of an angel and the body of a centerfold. She had to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Light mocha skin, hazel eyes more green than brown, with a pert nose, high cheekbones, and thin brows that arched when she spied Tersch.

  A hint of a smile played about her lips, and Kisho heard Tersch's low groan.

  “And you call me lovesick,” Fallon muttered before leaving the group and yelling for his mate.

  Not mate. Wife. Kisho reminded himself to think in human terms, not the way his beast did. The animal inside him sought a mate, but the man inside him preferred a partner.

  Tersch took off after Ava, who said something about getting his laundry for him in a voice too sweet to be trusted.

  “So much for a pleasant introduction to the entire team.” Mrs. Sharpe sighed and held out her hand. “Kisho, I can always count on you for manners.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” Kisho thrived in the world of niceties and expected behavior drilled into him first by his father, then the navy. So unlike his formative years spent foraging in the slums of Okinawa. Burying the unwanted memory, he placed Mrs. Sharpe's thin hand in the crook of his elbow and walked with her to the open living room.

  The mansion where they lived, courtesy of the government, boasted close to fourteen thousand square feet. Two floors, a gymnasium, pool, greenhouse, and an underground lab were just some of the amenities provided for them as a reward for the life-threatening missions they worked.

  Kisho especially liked the open floor plan. The kitchen had more counter space than most restaurants. Melissa, their cook, often prepared their meals on the marble countertops and served their dishes either at the massive kitchen counter bordered on one side by stools—where they normally congregated to eat—or at the long oak table that could easily seat a dozen people.

  Beyond the counter sat a spacious living room, complete with a sectional sofa, plush, high-backed leather chairs, and a wide-screen television and media center. Off the living area, the poker and pool tables completed the space's functionality as a place to relax. A fireplace bordered one end of the room, and at the other end a set of French doors led to the outside garden, where Kisho spent a good deal of his spare time meditating and trying to capture an inner peace that often eluded him.

  Olivia and their new hire sat with their backs to Kisho and Mrs. Sharpe. Kisho couldn't see any more of the merc than a hint of dark hair just visible above the chair. Fallon, clearly irritated, stood with a scowl by Olivia's side. Jules sat across from them on the couch, his expression intent. When he caught sight of Kisho, his face lit up.

  “Finally. What the hell took you so long?” Jules stood and crossed to greet him. “Fallon's being an ass. I could use the head of reason by my side.” Mrs. Sharpe took her hand from Kisho and patted his shoulder. “So nicely mannered. You should teach Gunnar a few lessons.”

  “No shit,” Jules muttered when she moved out of earshot.

  Then again, Mrs. Sharpe saw and heard all. Who knew what the hell her limits were?

  “Where were you?” Kisho asked.

  “Busy entertaining our newest team member,” Jules muttered. “He's an asshole. I don't like him already.”

  A snort of deep male laughter came from the individual next to Olivia. The one Kisho couldn't see but felt like a bad rash.

  Spikes of anticipation filled him, and Kisho had a terrible feeling deep in the pit of his gut.

  “You know, I'm not feeling so good—”

  Jules latched on to his arm. “Uh-uh. I gotta be here, you gotta be here. Come on. Might as well get it over with.” Jules pulled him around to face the ex-mercenary still seated in the chair.

  Kisho started his inspection from the bottom and worked his way up, putting off the inevitable as long as he could. The merc crossed his huge feet at the ankles. He had long legs, a flat belly, and broad chest.

  Kisho's heart raced, but he continued his scrutiny, past thickly muscled arms, visible under the rolled-u
p sleeves of a flannel shirt, until he found himself transfixed by familiar lips.

  Full and firm, a muted red, and quirked with amusement. That quirk patronized, annoyed, and intrigued him to no end.

  “Meet Morgan Reynolds. Reynolds, this is Kisho Hayashi, another member of Dawn Endeavor, and my demolitions man,” Jules said by way of introduction.

  Kisho finally looked at the man's face. Bright green eyes blazed with a familiar hunger that made Kisho want to run. Simultaneously, images bombarded his senses.

  Tersch, Jules, and Fallon sneered at him, rejecting him because of his association with Reynolds. Then another image. One of death, of agony. “You did this!” the man with green eyes shouted, pointing at Kisho, who lay still on the ground. Next to him Jules bled out, dying slowly, painfully.

  Over the years he'd had them, the visions constantly changed, but in each one they featured Morgan Reynolds. In recent months, however, the visions had changed in tone from sexy to deadly. Kisho's team turned on him, casting him out. A fate worse than death, in Kisho's opinion.

  But there was death too. In every damned vision he'd had since falling from the Sunfield building, he saw his own death, followed by Jules's death. And lastly, always, Morgan Reynolds's accusation, pointing at someone else. “It was you,” he'd say again and again. No matter how Kisho died, that never changed.

  Kisho's instinctive fear pushed him to curl his toes and stand tall. He glared down at the male until Reynolds stood. Then they stared at one another. To his surprise, Reynolds was huge.

  He stood an inch or two taller than Kisho himself.