Dawn Endeavor 4: Gunnar's Game

by Marie Harte

  “Not gonna happen.” His hoarse response caused her to smile.

  She rose from the bed and straightened her shorts. Ava stared at his half-hard cock now covered with cum and nodded. “Oh yeah, we're going to happen soon, Gunnar. I'll play your games now, but in the end, I intend to win.” He had the strangest sense she meant what she said. A woman stalking Frederik Gunnar Tersch? “Baby, I can eat you for breakfast.”

  She approached until she stood right in front of him. “Why wait for breakfast?” She lifted a finger and rimmed his mouth.

  The scent and taste of her cream turned him inside out. Before she could draw her hand away, he grabbed it and took her finger into his mouth. He closed his eyes and sucked, his beast and berserker both rolling in delight as they absorbed the scent of his mate. When he couldn't take another taste without fucking her good and hard, Tersch pulled her finger from his mouth.

  “You keep pushing, you won't like what you find.”

  “Baby, you don't know the meaning of the word 'push.'” Ava chuckled and had the nerve to tuck him back into his trousers. The feel of her hand on his cock brought out his berserker.

  In a flash, he put his hand to her throat and squeezed, warning his mate to understand her place. “Let me go before I hurt you. Because I want nothing more than to hear you scream,” he warned, shaky and trying to tamp down his hormones.

  He forced himself to let her go but didn't step away. Neither did she, and his berserker smiled at her fearlessness.

  “Promises, promises,” she said and drew her hand from his cock. She licked his cum from her fingers and winked. “I'll see you later, big guy. Try to get some rest and dream of me.” Ava pranced away, flaunting that tight, round ass at him, like waving a red flag at an angry bull.

  He took a step in her direction.

  Fortunately, Ava left his room and closed the door behind her. He missed her the moment she left. But aside from pining for the woman he couldn't have, he felt a huge wave of unease. Ava had sounded as if she expected to have him in the end.

  And that would spell disaster.

  The uncanny woman had a knack for getting under his skin. His eyes nearly crossed at the thought of tasting more than her arousal off her fingertips. He could too easily imagine going down on her, eating her out until she cried his name, then fucking her so hard they saw stars.

  He grimaced down at his painful erection and stripped. Heading for his shower—which was what he'd initially come back to the room to do—he stepped into the stall and let the cold water flow. But it did nothing to stem his arousal, especially when he heard a few hoarse shouts from his team caught up in their mates.

  Gunnar jerked himself off twice more before he found a measure of peace. He fell asleep in his bed, awash in her scent.

  For the first time in a long time, he slept like the dead. But he dreamed of Ava, all the same.

  Chapter Four

  Lonnie shot up in bed, covered in sweat. The dreams had come again. Blurred images of death, torment, and the ultimate prize out of reach. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, glad he'd at least woken alone. The sound of a shower told him Melissa hadn't yet left his hotel room. Arriving hours earlier, the annoying bitch had whined and complained, but at least she'd agreed to suck him off so he could catch some sleep.

  Melissa defined the ideal of a wet dream. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, full, pretty tits, and a tight cunt that could wring him dry with ease. Unfortunately, her constant clinginess was wearing thin.

  When they'd first met, he'd seen her instant response and had been glad of it.

  He considered himself an attractive man, but he knew what had really drawn her to him. Power. Lonnie could manipulate psychic energy as easily as he'd influenced his peers and superiors in his long trip up the political ladder. Now he had more than mental strength, but the position in Washington to do great and terrible things.

  A chance meeting with Jack Keiser had convinced him Melissa would be the key to giving Lonnie the edge he needed. Jack had been perfect. A spotless record with the government, the instincts of a deadly hunter, and the psychic status as one of the Psychic Warfare Program's—the PWP's—best new recruits. A few blasts of Lonnie's psychic energy, and he'd convinced Jack that Jack and Melissa had married. Quite a coup, because not only had Lonnie been able to keep tabs on the Circs, but he'd had firsthand knowledge of how Jack worked in the field.

  Lonnie rubbed his fingers together, pleased at the fiery tingle they produced.

  When Melissa stepped out of the bathroom, her hair damp, clad in a towel, she stopped at the sight of him.

  He spread his naked thighs, aroused at the thought of controlling her once more. Melissa had such strong shields. Taking them down, brick by painful brick, aroused him to no end. “Come here.”

  She smiled, no doubt thinking herself in love. Selfish, vain, and needy, Melissa Ramirez was just his type of woman. He didn't bother hiding his physical response to her beauty as she drew close. “On your knees, my dear.” She knelt before him.

  “I think next time we'll bring Grayson in to join our fun.” He knew how much she loathed anything related to the Circs.

  She frowned at him, and he touched her right between the eyes. He concentrated a blast of manipulation, and her frown eased.

  “Whatever you want, lover.”

  “Yes, whatever I want,” he repeated. He looked to the nightstand. “Get me the lube.”

  Melissa blanched. “But I thought—”

  “Do it.”

  He could tell she tried to fight the compulsion, but she couldn't. Her fear felt delightfully thick as it settled over him.

  “That's it.” He watched her return with the tube in hand. “Now spread it over me. All over me.”

  She did, and he swelled, so excited. Fucking Melissa's ass degraded her. She hated it, absolutely hated it because she loved it, thanks to some delightfully dysfunctional drama in her past. It had become his favorite way to take her, and a way to punish her for enjoying Jack Keiser so much. Though he'd ordered her to feign a life with Jack, he'd never intended her to enjoy the man's clumsy attentions.

  As he took her hard, forgoing any foreplay, he enjoyed the snug feel of her ass around his cock and dissociated his emotion from the act. He thought about what he had planned for Dawn Endeavor, and in particular, Alicia Sharpe.

  It had taken a lot of time and effort, but he now counted her among his arsenal of weapons. With every meeting and every slight touch, he drew her deeper and deeper into his web. Unfortunately, it had taken longer than he'd anticipated bringing her to heel.

  The woman infuriated him, because he knew the truth about her. What he wouldn't give to have so much power. And none of it had been artificially manufactured. The woman had been born with magic. An anomaly even among psychics, Alicia Sharpe had lived far longer than anyone he'd ever met. A fact he'd only found out due to a freak coincidence. Imagine his father having a photograph of the woman from thirty years earlier looking exactly the same. For once, his father's devotion to South American causes had come in handy.

  Not only had Sharpe helped his father take care of some illiterate villagers in the remote jungle, she'd introduced him to the notorious Elliot Pearl, founder of the Circe serum and all-around mad scientist. Another piece that fit the puzzle, since Lonnie had learned from Pearl that a woman matching Sharpe's description had given him the kernel of the idea to develop the serum. Through trial and error and a mysterious sample of mutated blood—Alicia's blood—Elliot had revolutionized genetic manipulation. And the Circs were born.

  From that, the PWP had sprung. What Lonnie had convinced himself would be a way to leap ahead several steps to success had actually turned into a problem.

  The damned PWP had become viable, and he spent as much time shielding his activities as he did working the system.

  Frustrated and annoyed that things weren't going the way he'd intended, he pushed himself harder inside the malleable woman beneath him. He c
ame hard, but the climax left him wanting. Melissa enjoyed it too much.

  “Lonnie.” She moaned his name again when he pulled out, conflicted by shame and enjoyment, that familiar look of chagrin on her pretty face.

  Annoyed with her, he had no intention of letting her come. “I'm so sorry, my dear. I just realized I have something urgent awaiting me. We'll take this up again the next time you're in town.” A not so subtle way of making her leave.

  “And I just took a shower. I guess I'll head in again—”

  “No. I'm afraid you'll have to go now.” He raised a brow when she tried to argue.

  “But I'm—”

  He interrupted again. “You're what? A whore who enjoys a fat cock up her ass?

  Yes, you are. So you should wear your shame home. Let it soak into your panties and remind you where you belong.”

  At the word belong she subsided. “Yes, Lonnie.” So incredibly easy to maneuver. Melissa no longer provided a challenge. A pity, but she'd soon have to go.

  He sighed. “I do look forward to our next meeting. Now out you go.” She quickly dressed and left without another word. The cow. He hurried into the bathroom and showered, eager to rid himself of her stench. Cleaning himself, he put into plan a new course of action, one that would certainly benefit him in the long run. And maybe he'd find out where the hell Jack Keiser was hiding. A loose end he definitely needed to tie up on the off chance the bastard knew more than Melissa had said.

  Lonnie whistled under the hot spray, knowing he wouldn't dream anymore tonight. Melissa had been good for one thing at least.

  * * *

  Ava stared at her grandmother the next day, dreading this meeting. Alicia had called everyone into her office. The spacious conference room a few doors down would have better served everyone, but her grandmother preferred her cozy space.

  A large desk area sat against the far wall, while five Circs, Morgan—a cousin so distant, she wasn't sure the blood tie even existed—Sheridan, her grandmother, and Ava occupied the seating area. She found it no great surprise that Gunnar took the chair farthest from her.

  Apparently, the sexual play yesterday had made him more than wary. Too bad, mate. You’re going down. Right underneath me. She smiled at him and winked, and he scowled back. Ava hadn't realized it before, but running her mate to ground was actually turning out to be rather enjoyable.

  Jesse and Olivia looked at Gunnar, then exchanged an amused glance.

  “Fuck off,” Gunnar growled at Jesse. “I'm not in the mood.”

  “You sure?” Ava asked sweetly.

  Morgan coughed to hide his laughter. Kisho didn't grin, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

  Sheridan and Jules continued to talk in low voices with her grandmother.

  Though anyone wanting to know what they conversed about could easily hear. Hell, just about everyone in the room was Circ through blood or relation. At the thought, she suddenly missed her brother very much.

  Her grandmother raised her head and looked directly at Ava. “Explain.” Everyone turned to Ava.

  She sighed inwardly and pulled her inner shields tight. “Grayson is in trouble.”

  “The forecaster?” Kisho asked. “I'd wanted to talk to him last week, but he left before I could. I had an odd dream about him.”

  Morgan frowned.

  “Not that kind of dream,” Kisho continued, a flush on his handsome cheeks.

  Ava thought him adorable. So strong yet almost shy when it came to dealing with his mate. The sensitive Circ. Her gaze immediately sought his opposite.

  Gunnar—the antithesis of sensitive.

  “Jesus, Kisho. Is that a blush?” Gunnar snickered.

  Jules interrupted just as Morgan opened his mouth. “Ava, please. Before this turns into a brawl. What is it about the psychic we need to know?”

  “How about, he's her brother?” Morgan replied and steepled his fingers over his chest.

  Jules scowled. “Grayson is your brother? Then that means he's Circ, right?”

  “Um, yes.” She tried to ignore the grumbling and irritation clearly visible on the team's faces. “I think he's in trouble. He sent me a jumble of thoughts and images I'm having trouble processing.”

  Jesse blinked. “Your brother is telepathic too? I thought Grayson was like Hayashi and saw the future.”

  Ava shook her head. “Not really. He's a powerful telepath, but I'm not.” She ignored Gunnar's muttered Thank God. “It hurts when he forces the contact, so by sending to me the way he did, I know he's in trouble.”

  “Your brother.” Jules's low voice rumbled through her. The true alpha of the team, regardless of her and her grandmother's power, Jules commanded without even trying. “We've avoided this because Mrs. Sharpe told me to. And we've had enough to worry about with Jack and Melissa's defections. But I really think the time has come for you to explain some things.” He looked to her grandmother as if giving her the opportunity.

  “Oh no.” Alicia fingered the pearl at her ear. “Let the girl tell it. You'll have less questions that way. Ava likes to talk.”

  “Does she ever,” Gunnar had to add.

  “Shut it, Frederik.” Pleased with his scowl, Ava did her best to answer the questions that had been building for days. “Well, you obviously know I'm Circ, or at least, an earlier version of what you are now. So is Grayson.” Sheridan nodded. She'd treated Grayson months earlier, when he'd had been undercover, working alongside Raul LaGarda, of all people.

  Ava knew Grayson hadn't told her everything before when she'd asked. She had a feeling her idiot brother had answered the rest of her questions with that migraine of information he'd sent her. Now she just had to reach through the mind-blowing pain for answers.

  “My parents are like me, as is Grandma.”

  Everyone stared at Mrs. Sharpe with speculation.

  “But we're different than you. We were born this way, for one.” Sheridan's blue eyes widened. “Amazing. Again a case of science catching up with what nature had intended. I never saw you change, Ava. Do you look like the others?”

  Ava didn't need to see Gunnar to feel the sexual energy directed her way. She knew the arrogant Circ had liked the look of her in her beast's form that brief time he'd seen her. But not half as much as she liked him, any way at all. She cleared her throat. “Um, yes. Kind of. I don't get as large as you do. Actually, I only grow a few inches in height. And my muscles aren't huge. My bones change, and I'm really, really fast. I have the ability to influence my body's density. That's the most scientific way to explain it, though I don't even think that's technically the right of it.”

  Kisho leaned forward on the couch, where he sat next to his mate. “So…what?

  You can change, but you don't look all that different from the way you look now?”

  “You need to show us.” Jules didn't so much ask as order.

  “Yeah.” Gunnar nodded. “I didn't catch that much of you when we fought Montaña. I was too busy trying to kill the bastards threatening your 'frail human shell.'”

  “Let it go already.” Ava glared at him. “So I lied. At least I'm honest about other things.” Like how much I want you.

  He glanced at her finger tapping on the chair arm, the same finger she'd used to plunge inside herself yesterday, and took a deep breath he slowly let out. Though Ava couldn't read his thoughts, she could read his body language. And the flare of his nostrils, the tension in his frame, and the darkening of his blue eyes signified Gunnar's arousal.

  “But how are you Circ?” Jesse wanted to know. “We were all given the Circe serum, like the Circs up north. It basically changed our DNA, allowing us to shift.

  But all of us had some kind of psychic ability before we were dosed. The other Circs we've met aren't psychic, though.” He glanced at Alicia. “We've all known from the get go that Mrs. Sharpe is more than she seems. You were a surprise. But not a surprise to all of us.” He narrowed his gaze on Morgan.

  Kisho sighed. “Tell them,” he said to Morgan
.

  Finally, the attention leaped to someone else. Ava eased into her seat, ignoring Gunnar, who had yet to look away from her.

  “Hell. Throw me into the fire, why don't you?” Morgan muttered. “Fine. I've known Ava since she was five. My family is a lot like hers. There's a rumor we're somehow related.”

  “You are. Distantly, but it's there,” Mrs. Sharpe added.

  “Yeah, well. The point is, the Belle and Reynolds families are different.

  Psychic, more in tune with nature and our animal ancestors. But Aunt Alicia is way different. And I mean that in a nice way.”

  “Aunt Alicia?” Gunnar snorted.

  Alicia smiled at Morgan. “I know, dear.”

  Morgan continued, “Shape-shifting isn't all that weird, not where I come from.

  Deep in the heart of the Amazon, you see things. Medicine men, shamans. Witches and priestesses are a lot more common than you'd think.” Sheridan spoke up. “Medically speaking, the Amazon jungle has untapped potential. If we could get the developers and poachers to leave well enough alone, we'd have a real bevy of discoveries to tap into. My Sheridan Rose, that special flower I was researching before I got involved with you all? It has healing properties. You wouldn't believe what I found when I cut into the stem and separated—”

  “That's right. I said shaman,” Morgan said loudly as if Sheridan hadn't spoken.

  When she glared at him, he shrugged an apology. “Sorry, honey, but you're losing Tersch already. Too many big words, I'm afraid.” Gunnar grunted. “Kiss my ass, Morgan.”

  “My point is, what many people regard as myths or improbabilities are actually real. We were born this way, and the next generation of Circs will be as well.”