Lycan Alpha Claim 3

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Beth grabbed his shoulders to maintain her balance.

  Warmth burst from her chest, lighting every connection in her body, her bare toes the only thing on the ground.

  The weight of his mouth slowly lifted, and Beth was still bent backward, stunned and breathless, out of control.

  A bloodling had saved her in Sector One from another Reflective, captured her, healed her in a bath of blood, then kissed her without permission.

  Beth felt light-headed.

  She could justify losing consciousness while getting strangled by Ryan. But now?

  “Let me down,” Beth said, and Slade's arms fell away, dumping her.

  Beth's palms slapped the ground instinctively and broke her fall. She rolled over into a sitting position and put her head between her knees.

  It had woken her up: his kiss, the way he'd dropped her without warning, and her miserable hunger.

  Just then, her traitor stomach gave another tortured howl.

  Principle, help me.

  Slade stuck out his hand. Beth glared at the proffered palm. With a grunt, she took it.

  “When did you eat last, tiny frog?”

  “Okay.” Beth poked his chest with her finger. “Stop calling me an amphibian.”

  He caught her finger, taking it inside his hot wet mouth, and Beth was left with her next words wedged in her throat.

  Slade slid it out achingly slowly.

  Beth reclaimed her hand. The silence became weighted.

  His eyebrow cocked.

  “Do you know what we call Reflectives?”

  She shook her head.

  Her brain's wires were crossed. Beth felt as if she’d short-circuited.

  “No,” she said and folded her arms across her stomach. It was so empty that she could feel her heartbeat thumping against her forearm.

  “Hoppers. That is what you do. Using the sectors like personal lily pads. So what is wrong with you being my tiny frog?” He asked the question as though it were perfectly reasonable.

  “First…” she glared at him, hands on her hips, wishing for weapons. “We don't hop—we jump.”

  He waved a strong hand around. “Hop, jump, skip, vault, bounce, leap, hurdle… dive.”

  “Principle—okay.”

  He smirked.

  “Just so we have an understanding.”

  “We have an understanding.” She nodded vigorously, “I understand that you're holding me prisoner.”

  “Leave,” Slade invited, swinging out his palm.

  Beth moved to the door, and a pack of nightlopers stood at the bottom of the great tree the fort was embedded in.

  Their eyes reflected back at her.

  She expelled a tormented sigh of pure frustration. She could not jump from organics.

  “Such a tease, eh?” Slade asked softly. “All those reflective orbs but none that you can use?”

  Hate bit at her. “Why did you pull me away from the window?”

  He said nothing for a time.

  “I was hoping they would not mark you.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not want to fight off nightlopers that have their sights set on one of our females. Why do you think they persist at our feet.”

  “Because you're an asshole?” Beth cracked.

  Slade grabbed her, jerking her to him.

  “I'm an asshole that broke six of that Reflective's ribs for hurting you. I should have killed him. But—a visit from whatever hierarchy Papilio still holds I do not need.”

  Beth's heart thumped against her ribcage. The howling nightlopers swirled around the great trunk as Slade dangled part of her body over the wood railing of his dwelling.

  “Drop me,” Beth challenged. “I will fight them.”

  Bare handed. To the death.

  “They do not want to fight you, tiny frog,” he whispered so softly that she strained to hear.

  Her heart's rhythm picked up to a murderous drum beat.

  Beth's stores of knowledge fell short on the nightlopers; foreigners to Sector One knew little of them.

  She could see Slade would tell her. Beth knew she would not like it. His long bound hair swung around and tickled her as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

  “They want to mate with you.”

  Then he released her, and Beth was falling into the darkness filled with excited yips and snuffles.

  It was a testimony to Beth's bravery that she did not cry out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Jeb was stunned when he saw the first Reflective female, milling around at the top of the marble steps of TCH. It was Daphne, and she was dressed for… well—Jeb wasn't sure. There was more flesh than clothing.

  Jacky was certain, though. “Wow, nice whore house, Merrick.”

  Jeb turned in an instant rage on the young man.

  He backed up, holding up his hands. “I'm just sayinʼ, Merrick, looks like The Cause Headquarters have become…”

  Jeb's eyes moved to what used to be TCH, and he knew, no matter how shocking or how untoward, that what Jacky had said was true.

  The Reflective females no longer fulfilled clerical duties—but those of the bed.

  Daphne's eyes skated over Jeb with an absolute lack of interest, then her head whipped back around, recognition flooding her face.

  “Jeb,” she cried, running down the wide marble steps in heels and a dress so short that Jeb could feel the heat infuse his face and neck.

  He was humiliated for her.

  Jacky was trying studiously to avoid looking at her but finally gave up. The Reflective female was a thing of beauty to be admired.

  Now reduced to a whore.

  She threw herself into his arms and he caught her easily.

  Daphne smelled of other men.

  He gently put her away from him. He searched her face, his nostrils filling with some insidious scent that ran underneath the obvious.

  Opiates.

  Who is drugging the fairer Reflectives?

  The answer presented itself with a curt, “Daphne!”

  She flinched, letting the strap of the barely-there dress slip. Fingerprint bruises lined her delicate collarbone and shoulder.

  Jeb saw red. He had lain with Daphne several times and had been a gentle and attentive lover. He would have never brought her to harm.

  He would kill any male who hurt their females.

  What could he to do when the protectors had become the predators?

  “This is fucking bad, Merrick,” Jacky restated the obvious, his eyes fixed on those bruises.

  “Go—Jeb,” Daphne said in a low voice, slipping out of his hold and looking behind her like a canine that had been kicked too many times.

  “No, I will not go.”

  Her face turned to his.

  “They'll kill you—and they'll hurt me.” She shivered, folding her rail thin arms over her too-skinny body. Fear was on every line of her.

  Merrick pushed her into Jacky's arms, and he held her. She protested, and he shook his head.

  “Let Merrick go kick some Reflective ass.”

  Jeb gave a grim smile as he mounted his former TCH, disgusted beyond measure.

  A non-Reflective female was taking money at the door. Jeb dismissed her, searching for the Reflective who'd called out.

  “Merrick,” said Quaker, one of Lance Ryan’s lackeys.

  Jeb turned, to find a stabilizer pointed at his chest.

  “Here to sample the wares?” he flicked his head toward where Daphne stood against Jacky.

  Jeb didn't like enlisting the boy, but desperate measures called for desperate solutions. The justification still didn't sit well with him.

  “Looks like you and that Three are ready for some tag team with Daphne.”

  Jeb's hands fisted. “You mean the drugged, malnourished female Reflective who is too scared to talk to me?”

  Quaker's artificial smile dropped off his face as if it had never been there. The stabilizer notched up a touch.

  “If y
ou don't want to play in the sandbox with the females—fuck off.” He adjusted his balls.

  “It's no problem if you're not onboard. There's plenty more that want to ride the pony.”

  Jeb's anger became visceral. He spotted the scope that rode the top of the stabilizer’s barrel, and it hadn't been shut. The port's reflective edge was exposed.

  Dawn broke through the pillars like a salvation Jeb hadn't prayed for.

  But he thanked Principle for it regardless.

  The sphere-shaped lens glinted in the early morning light, which hit it squarely.

  Quaker's mouth made a comical O shape as Jeb saw his own face in the small circle of the stabilizer lens port.

  Anger neatened the effort for the jump, as did the three-meter distance. Jeb flashed in a ribbon of iridescent fire.

  A sucking pop followed his leap.

  Quaker suddenly was nose to nose with Jeb, who grabbed the stabilizer and turned it butt-first, cracking it into Quaker's temple.

  “Nobody's riding anyone,” Jeb said and slammed the instep of his boot into Quaker’s foot.

  It occurred to Jeb that this group had been waiting for Ryan's eventual return with Beth.

  New fire breathed into the boiling pot of his simmering anger.

  He stomped Quaker's foot again, and the Reflective socked a solid blow to Jeb's stomach.

  It was always a problem when two Reflectives were pitted against each other.

  The stabilizer clattered to the ground. The safety was off, and the force of the strike sprayed bullets as the two Reflectives hammered each other.

  Screams rose as the bullets embedded in the soft marble. Jeb ignored it, bearing down on Quaker, who was at a disadvantage.

  Jeb felt his skin give from the pounding his knuckles gave Quaker.

  Quaker was not fighting for honor, for the safety of a soul mate.

  Jeb was fighting for the First: bear no injustice.

  They would have taken Beth—his Beth—and drugged a combatant warrior of The Cause then raped her.

  Unconscionable.

  Jeb's hammers of retribution fell until his knees were soaked with Quaker’s blood.

  The Reflective groaned, his face a ruin of blood, split lips, swelling cheeks, narrow slits for eyes.

  Jeb stood on shaky feet and turned.

  Four more Reflectives surrounded Jacky.

  In a single instant, Jeb thought it was more of Quaker and Ryan's ilk. But Calvin and Kennet had arrived.

  Thank Principle.

  He raced down the stairs, and one of them raised a gun. “Hands up dick head.”

  His euphoria vanished.

  Not them!

  Daphne's eyes went wide with an emotion that shredded Jeb's heart.

  Inevitability.

  ***

  Beth would break when she landed. Gravity doesn't care, its singular function is to bring things down.

  She could try to roll when she landed. She forced her limbs loose and pried open her eyes.

  Something blurred past her as the nightlopers grew bigger in her vision.

  She had not known what they were exactly and was falling too quickly for fear.

  Beth had to survive the landing first then worry about the next mess. She hit hard and bounced, cushioned by strong arms like flesh-covered steel.

  Beth opened her eyes to Slade's amused black gaze. He had caught her neatly.

  Bastard!

  Then the nightlopers were on them.

  Slade smoothly tossed her and Beth flung out her arms, only to be caught by another bloodling. It was the young one whom Ryan had taught a lesson.

  He seemed to be walking just fine.

  Slade fought the nightlopers.

  She had thought the Reflective was a fighter of beauty.

  They all paled compared to Slade’s fluidity as his fingertips burst with silver talons, his fangs so long he could never close his mouth had he tried.

  Nightlopers where like the shifters of Seven, but so much more. They were not animals; they were upright humanoids with animal parts. Beth could make out the wolf of the group, the lion—a bear.

  Nightlopers, unlike their cousins on Seven, never shifted form. They hung between humanoid and their animal, captured somewhere in between.

  “Let me down,” Beth commanded.

  The bloodling denied her request, shaking his head.

  “I will not deal with Slade's wrath because you want to enter the fray.”

  That was exactly what she'd been thinking. Principle dammit.

  Beth gave a disgusted snort, and he smirked.

  They take their sarcasm seriously here on One.

  The nightloper who had closed in from behind was definitely the wolf. Its snout drove long canines deep into Slade's shoulder as he battled the one in front of him.

  “Help him!” Beth said.

  If they finished off Slade, then she would have to face the three of them.

  “No. He is a bloodling. We do not interfere in this test.”

  Males! Regardless of the sector, they were all so sure of their superiority.

  “What damn test?” Beth screamed over the fighting as the lion nightloper broke away, leaving the wolf and bear to tear Slade to pieces.

  Great. Beth was there with a barely-out-of-adolescent bloodling.

  “Give me the female, bloodling—and your death will be swift. Or fight me, and it shall be creative.”

  Beth didn't like the sound of that raspy voice giving choices that were both bad.

  “Okay, let me down.”

  He let Beth slide to the ground and put her behind him protectively.

  “She is a bloodling… of no interest to you, nightloper.”

  Watching him nod was comical. A golden mane surrounded a face with a light covering of fur. His amber eyes were like fire.

  On Beth.

  He snuffled and gave her a hard glance. “No, I smell many things. But she is desirable because she is Reflective. They are neutral, as well you know.”

  Well finally, someone noticed. The neutral part wasn't good. It meant that she could be with any subspecies on One. Beth knew that in theory, but to have it dumped at her doorstep in the middle of an engagement was entirely different.

  “Stay back or die,” the young bloodling said.

  He sounded unwavering, confident.

  Beth could feel the racing pulse at his back.

  Short tortoise-colored talons sprang from the lion’s stubby fingers, and with a roar that hurt Beth's ears, he swung forward, burying all ten claws inside the bloodlings chest and heaving him aside in a practiced toss.

  A bloodling of Jeb's size.

  It left Beth vulnerable, with a seven-foot full-fledged monster in front of her. He swooped in to grab her, and she did the opposite of what he thought she would.

  Beth charged, punching out with her fist into his considerable groin.

  Another roar and shout followed.

  But he was down, and Beth leapt over him.

  His hand caught her ankle, and she fell like a dead bird from the sky.

  She hit the ground hard, her teeth coming together painfully. His panting breath was hot on her face.

  “Female.”

  Beth twisted her elbow and smashed it into that snub-nose snout. Blood burst like a geyser to join the blood that soaked her clothes.

  Claws punched to either side of her head, and Beth screamed—he had effectively caged her.

  She rolled, ducking under one of his powerful arms, and was plucked off the ground.

  Beth swung her head to meet the forehead of whoever had captured her and was dumped.

  Of course.

  She opened her eyes, and Slade stood above her, wounds decorating every surface of his body.

  His blood was black.

  *

  “Nice reception here, Merrick,” Jacky quipped.

  “Shut up, Three.”

  “Fuck off, ya turd.”

  Another inductee Reflective, Iver, hit Jac
ky in the back of the head with his gun.

  He fell to his hands and knees, and Jeb bellowed, moving forward.

  “Don't do it, Reflective.”

  Jeb met his eyes. “I will see your bones turn to dust.”

  He smirked.

  “No you won't. You and your little pet Three will do as we say. I didn't like that you worked over Quaker. He runs a tight ship here.”

  Jeb gave looks of disgust to Calvin and Kennet. He couldn't believe they would partake in this.

  Iver sank his fingers into Daphne's pale hair and jerked her back against him, groping at her breast, and a low sound of shame burst out of her mouth.

  Jeb could abide it no longer. His eyes scanned everything and caught on a surface that winked at him.

  Calvin lifted a mirror the size of a female's make-up compact behind Iver's back.

  Jeb's thoughts came together like a jigsaw puzzle of hope.

  Jacky caught his eye from the ground, a shining understanding running between them.

  Jeb felt like crying for the first time in his life. His gratefulness was so acute that it manifested physically.

  The tears ached to fall, burning and stinging his eyelids.

  He jumped.

  It was the fastest reflection he'd ever executed.

  Iver had taken one lascivious breath, his foulness all over the female. And in the next, Jeb had broken the wrist that would touch a female Reflective against her will.

  Jeb drove his elbow into Iver’s nose while he ripped the stabilizer out of his hands and slammed the barrel into his belly.

  Blood poured out of Iver’s nose. His eyes were wide, with the stabilizer barrel pressed against his guts.

  “Go ahead,” Jeb ground out. “I only need one word, one movement to splatter your worthless entrails all over the steps of our once-great Cause.”

  Iver tensed.

  “If you reflect, I shall follow.”

  Jeb punched him in the jaw, and he slumped.

  Jeb's eyes went to Calvin and Kennet.

  “Report.”

  “Let's get out of the whole”—Jacky looped his hand around—“fucking middle of everything. Kinda exposed!”

  Jeb hoisted the Three up.

  Jacky kicked Iver.

  “Dick. Ya don't treat chicks like that.”

  Daphne stood shaking like a leaf.

  “I need more opium.”