Marie Harte - Grayson's Gamble

Except the whirlwind tour stopped scant minutes after it had started. Gray forbade him from going down the hallway toward his room. “You can have the guest room. Here.” Gray nodded him toward a tasteful bedroom containing a queen-size bed and a dresser. “The bathroom is in there.” A hall bath done in blues and browns. Simple yet efficient. Very Gray-like. “Kitchen’s open and stocked. Had a friend of mine fill it for me when we wrapped Mexico.”

The surge of jealousy that hit Bas surprised him. His beast didn’t like the thought of Gray with anyone other than him. “Friend?” He coughed to cover a growl and forced a laugh. “I’d love to meet the person you trust with the alarm code to your house. A hot chick? Some smokin’ dude?”

Gray flushed, and Bas found the blush more than attractive. His dick hardened, and he thanked the jeans that kept his erection contained.

“She’s a friend of my grandmother, dickhead. Sixty-four and counting. Is sex all you think about?”

“Um, yeah. I’m a guy.” The surprising surge of lust that wafted from Gray urged him to take a step closer.

Until Gray set a finger tipped in a one-inch claw to his throat. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t have mating heats. I’m not like you manufactured Circs. I was born this way. I like women, not men. And if I catch you in my bedroom without an invitation, I’ll make you wish you’d never met me.”

“No way.” Bas stepped closer, feeling the bite of pain as the claw bit into his neck. “I could never be upset I’d met you, Gray. You’ve been so gosh awful nice so far,” he said in a bad Southern accent.

Gray just stared at him, those hazel eyes unblinking. And then the bastard laughed. The smile on his face was the most beautiful thing Bas had seen in a long time.

“Christ. You’re a serious pain in my ass.”

Man, I wish.

Gray stepped back and wiped his bloodied claw against Bas’s neck. The touch felt like a caress. Gray must have seen the heat in his eyes because his own narrowed, and he backed away in a hurry. “I’m tired. I’m going to catch some shut-eye. We’ll talk about the mission tomorrow.”

“But the case file, how do you know—”

“I read fast. It’s all in here.” Gray tapped his forehead. “Towels are in the linen closet. ’Night, Decker.” Then he spun on his heel and disappeared down the hallway Bas had been forbidden to enter.

Bas heard a door slam. He glanced down at his cock, trapped beneath unforgiving denim, and swore. “Another lonely fucking night. Just you and me.” He looked at his palm, then down the hallway again, wishing it might have been different.

His beast protested the entire time he showered and jacked off—twice—to images of Gray on his knees, sucking Bas to heaven. All in time, guy. Your foot’s in the door now. Just don’t blow it—at least not until he asks you to . His beast didn’t like the advice, but he took it all the same. And Bas slept a little easier, knowing the object of his affection lay just a short distance down the hall.

The following morning, Decker continued to repeat everything Gray told him in the form of a question. “So the file said this Al Ross has been gathering rogues together for months?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“But I don’t get it. How the hell do you remember all the info in the folder? You glanced through it for like thirty seconds, if that.” Decker took another sip of hot chocolate. So fitting, and so annoying that the scent merged with the sweet smell of the man.

“It’s a gift. Eidetic memory.” A skill, like Gray’s telepathy, but he’d yet to divulge that tidbit to Decker. Gray had trust issues. And he didn’t much care for the Circs outside of the Dawn Endeavor team. His sister and grandmother, he loved. His parents as well. The Dawn Endeavor Circs he tolerated, mainly because one of them had mated his sister. But the others fashioned by science? He couldn’t help it. They just weren’t right. Inferior creations made by imperfect humans.

Which didn’t explain why he couldn’t stop himself from constantly thinking about Sebastian Decker.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Decker grinned, and his eyes brightened like sapphires.

“You have no idea.”

“Yeah, about that.” Bas leaned forward and gave Gray a nice view of his square jaw that didn’t need a shave. Circs didn’t grow facial hair, an odd quirk that made Gray and Decker similar. Almost. “Something you said yesterday… What did you mean about being born this way? I thought all Circs were created in a lab.”

Gray cursed himself for revealing that much. Though he and Decker had worked together for nearly a year, something about the man constantly nudged him to caution.

“Oh, come on, hero. I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Decker leaned back from the kitchen table and grinned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

When Decker put on a wounded face and opened his mouth to speak, Gray beat him to it. “Shit. Fine. I was born this way. I’ve been in touch with my beast since I was five. It’s a part of me. No idea why, it just is.”

“Wow. No wonder you have such tight control.” Decker shifted, and a ripple of muscle caught Gray’s attention. Though Decker was Circ, he seemed more cut and defined with larger muscle mass than most Circs. And why Gray found that trait so appealing, he couldn’t say. He liked large breasts, a rounded ass, and womanly curves. Not the hard body of a man.

“Gray?” Decker’s smile faded. “Are we going to finally get this out of the way or what?”

“Huh?”

“You give me that look, and I sense a fight brewing. You want to hit me; I can feel it. I’ve tried to ignore it, but honestly, it freaks me out. Not me, my beast.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way you—”

“And I don’t want to know. Let’s talk about Al Ross.”

Bas sighed. “Fine, hero. Have it your way.”

Gray gritted his teeth. You should call me hero after all the times I’ve saved your ass. Your tight, muscular, biteable ass.

The thought was decidedly feral, and Gray took a heavy grip on his beast and shoved the fucker back down. Fine time for the creature to turn sexually aggressive.

“Al Ross,” Gray continued, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. Thank God the table concealed his erection from sight, because for damn sure his sweatpants would only call attention to it. “Seems Ross keeps calling others to him. We’re not sure how he’s doing it, but he’s amassed at least half a dozen rogues who’ve gone off the grid. A few have been found dead, but we have no idea what happened to the others. We only know about the dead rogues because we’d been tracking the experimental soldiers from the Circ plant down in Ecuador. It’s the one we shut down last year.”

“Our first op,” Decker said with surprise.

“Yeah. Apparently we missed a few rogues, because they resurfaced in Portland, of all places. One of our contacts spotted them and reported in before losing sight of them. Then more reports came in from an old friend of mine.”

“Name?”

“Jack Keiser. He runs a bunch of psychics in Bend, Oregon. The Cascades is near his area, and when he caught wind of a Circ in the mountains, he called the admiral.”

“Keiser.” Decker frowned. “Why is that name familiar?”

“Jack was a part of the Dawn Endeavor project a while ago. Then some shit went down he had to take care of, and he left. He was also apparently part of the Psychic Warfare Program long before its funding was cut.”

Interesting how Decker’s scent changed. His expression remained intent, but Gray caught a hint of the man’s unease.