“No shit?”
Jeb nodded, holding in a smile. “Here, they remain in between the two forms.”
“That sounds sick!” Jacky said, his voice too loud.
“Quiet,” Calvin said.
“Who's sick?” Kennet asked.
“It's Three slang,” Jeb commented dryly.
Kennet's brows jumped. “Well, it doesn't make remote sense.”
Jacky shrugged.
Jeb saw something and grabbed the viewers from Kennet.
He almost broke from cover instantly.
Beth.
That pull strained taut.
Calvin and Kennet tensed. “What?”
“It's Beth… and many bloodlings… and Ryan.”
“Look at how that dickhead pops up all the time. Of course,” Jacky commented, “it might be the only time his dick does that for him.”
Kennet groaned and grabbed the viewer from Jeb. “There's the rumored Dimitri. It has to be.” He pressed the viewer harder against his face.
Kennet's chin jerked back as Jeb clenched his hands to keep from going to Beth right away.
“That's a huge bloodling,” Kennet said in a thoughtful tone.
Jeb ducked his head, hissing.
The others turned to him.
“I want to rescue her.”
“Doesn't look like you need to,” Kennet commented. “That big bloodling down there is hauling her off.”
“Not helpful, dude,” Jacky said.
Calvin grabbed Jeb as he was about to leap out of their hiding place. “No Jeb,” Calvin said next to his ear. “He doesn't harm her.”
“Of course not. Beth has One blood. Harm isn't any part of it.”
“No,” Calvin said.
Jeb sank to the ground, nodding miserably.
“That's how it's possible? She is Sector One.”
“What in the hell is going on now?” Jacky asked, looking around at the three of them.
Jacky grabbed the viewers. “Lots of shitty auras down there, guys.”
Jeb ignored him, raking a hand through his hair. “Beth is soul bound to me.”
“No—you're soul bound to her. There's a difference, Jeb,” Calvin clarified while he jerked the viewer back from Jacky with a frown then slid it in their gear pack.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I am bound to her. She is not to me.”
Jacky frowned. “So, what happens between you two?”
“If she were without her timepiece, she would be free from her duties as a Reflective for The Cause, and could find her perfect half.”
“Oh,” Jacky said. Jeb could see he was mulling it over. “What happens if you dig her, but she digs another guy?”
“We duel,” Jeb said.
“It's a problem,” Jacky said.
“Your timepiece is gone, and hers is still tick-tocking away.”
Jeb nodded and frowned. “For now. But you forget—it will instantly disappear the moment she returns.”
Jacky stared at Jeb in question.
“Five years.”
“Oh, shit,” Jacky said.
“Oh shit indeed,” Jeb agreed.
They were all quiet for a moment.
“So to recap this mess, we need to get Beth, free the Reflectives, grab their asses back to the water we jumped to, and she needs to focus the entire troupe back to Papilio?”
“He does have a way of connecting the dots,” Calvin said with grudging admiration.
Jeb grunted.
“Then Beth returns, her timepiece explodes and she hunts around for Mr. Right?”
Jeb grimaced.
“Then what happens when she finds this guy?”
Jeb met his eyes, but it was Kennet who answered. “They duel to the death.”
“Why? All because she's part-Reflective?” Jacky asked.
“Yes,” Jeb replied.
“That blows big time.”
That about covered it.
*
Allowing the bloodling to carry Beth away was the worst thing Jeb had ever experienced.
Calvin and Kennet sat on his arms as he fought to go after her.
Jacky looked on with wide eyes.
When the sun left the land, seeping back into the crevices of the mountain's foothills, they made their way closer to Dimitri's stronghold.
They would free their kin, killing all who would stop them, and retrieve Beth.
She might not realize she was his, but Jeb did.
It was enough for both of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Beth's nose drove her right out of healing sleep.
She was relieved to open her eyes and not find herself in a vat of blood.
She hated the word rescued. She was not some weak female, at that moment, Beth could not prove that.
Slade moved gracefully to her side, sitting in a chair that had been pulled out.
He had a plate heaped with food. Beth's mouth watered, and her stomach contracted painfully.
“Not too fast,” Slade cautioned when she tore the plate from his hand and began stuffing food in by the chunks.
“Water,” she said with her mouth full.
Slade handed her a cup, and she gulped a mouthful. A painful load slid down her throat and hit her terribly empty stomach in a horrible lump.
She plowed through half the plate, which included cheesy eggs and a half a loaf of bread. Then she licked bacon grease from her fingers.
Breathless, she gazed out the window. She could make out the vague light of stars like matches struck against a willing sky.
Beth put the plate on the bed and camouflaged a burp with her fist, her eyes flicking to his.
He smiled. “Better, tiny frog?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“I will not, for that is who you are.”
Beth ignored his comment.
“I have slept the entire day?”
He nodded.
Beth's shoulders slumped. “You fight that worthless Reflective tonight?”
Slade simply nodded.
Her eyes rose to his. Seconds filled the moment. “Thank you.”
Beth swung her legs to the edge of the bed, grateful her bloody clothes were not on her.
Essentially naked before Slade, she wore only a bra and underwear.
Slade's dark eyes held hers. “You are welcome.” He paused. “Do not be embarrassed. I have clothes for you. The others… were not fit to be worn.”
She agreed, but no male had seen her in this state of undress.
Jeb.
Beth gulped. Where is Jeb? When could she return to Papilio?
Beth tried to ignore the lack of clothing, her horrible disgusting body, and shriveled stomach, where each rib could be counted.
She had never felt so low, so meager.
So Principledammned ineffectual.
She inhaled deeply and touched Slade's thick forearm. I must do the right thing.
His breath caught, but he remained motionless.
“Please,” Beth began, employing her little-used feminine wiles. “Do not fight him. Ryan is ruthless. He will dismantle you.”
Slade grinned, pulling her off the bed and onto his lap.
“No!” Beth struggled.
“I'm not going to harm you.”
Beth turned, his arms at mid-back around her. “I am not some whore to be fought over and won like a trophy.”
He nodded, tucking her matted filthy hair behind her ear.
“I am Reflective.”
“And therein lies the prize, Beth Jasper.”
She felt her nose scrunch.
“You are a neutral female here on One. I know you understand that. And you're a hopper—”
“Reflective,” Beth grumbled.
He chuckled and inclined his head. “Yes.”
Beth put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them. “You seem to be an honorable bloodling.”
His expression darkened, his fingertips tightening against her hea
ted skin.
“But I can't have your death on my conscience. I can't be with Ryan,” she said in a low voice.
“He will not have you.”
“You don't know the fighter a male Reflective can be.”
Slade dipped his head, his strong brow outlined in ink. “I have seen many fights.”
Beth closed her eyes, trying not to imagine good males tasked with killing each other or facing execution.
“They are a great warrior class, and what has happened on your world is regrettable.”
Regrettable.
Beth would not cry. She inhaled sharply, settling her emotions.
He tipped her chin up. “He will not take you from me.”
Beth searched those deep eyes. Truth. “I do not want to be with you.”
Slade leaned forward, and Beth felt her lips part. She felt the tip of his tongue run a hot, wet line across the fullness of her bottom lip, and the air in her lungs quieted.
He pulled her into his body and sipped at her lip like a fine wine, brushing his own against hers softly. His smooth fangs pressed against the flesh of her mouth as he pecked and sucked.
Slade pulled back just enough to allow her to look at him.
“Tell me there is not a small part of you that wants this.”
Beth dropped her gaze.
She'd never been much of a liar and found she couldn't answer without one.
She lifted her head.
“I don't want you to die.”
Slade smiled, kissing the tip of her dirty nose and wrinkled his own. “I shall live to fight another day.”
Beth gave him solemn eyes, and he said, “Now, let's get you cleaned up.”
*
Every part of her felt better. The bloodlings had a cleanser that was similar to the archaic devices of Three, but it did the job.
Beth had cleansed twice. Grime and dried blood had turned the basin a vague shade of brown and pink.
There were female bloodlings, though not one had darkened Slade's doorstep.
Neither spoke of the gladiator-style fight that would take place in two hours.
“Are you the… leader here?” Beth asked, plucking a fruit she'd never seen for inspection. She shrugged, tossing it in her newly clean mouth.
“I'm a—prince among my people.”
Beth's brow lifted. “Truly?”
Slade shook his head, leaning forward. He planted his elbows on the table opposite her, lacing his fingers together under a square jaw. He rasped the shadow of stubble that covered his face against those knotted hands.
Beth didn't realize she'd stopped talking—and eating. She'd been staring and dropped her eyes to the full bowl of fruit.
Guilt ate at her.
What is wrong with me? Was it some strange residual gratefulness that Slade had protected her, when none had before?
Except Jeb.
She’d let a bloodling lick her lip—and kiss her.
To his credit, Slade had said nothing about her obvious mixed signals.
Beth forced more fruit into her body, avoiding his eyes.
She was wearing the clothes of another bloodling. The females must have been very tall because she’d had to roll the cuffs of the hem three times.
She busied her hands, braiding her long hair.
When she reached the tail, she took the band she'd been wearing since Three from her wrist.
She flicked off a single flake of dried blood from the suede-like material.
Her hand shook as she wound her hairband three times around the end of her braid.
When Beth looked up, Slade was standing.
“It's time.”
Beth knew it was.
He held out his hand, steady, big, and strong.
After a hesitation, Beth took it.
*
“Where's Maddie?” Jacky asked as they made stealthy progress toward what the Reflectives referred to as “the fort.”
Jeb gave him a look, but did not answer right away. Jacky was still an almost-thirteen-cycle Three in his mind. His mind had not matured along with his body.
“Madeline would not be kept in the fort. If we're fortunate, she will be at the consulate.”
Jacky gave him blank face.
“We have a prison of sorts with an…”
“Embassy,” Calvin finished, though his eyes never left the stone walls as they drew closer.
“But, that jerk Ryan reflected all your warriors to the fort, so you don't think he didn't put the kibosh on the consulate and prison he was tortured in?”
That was exactly what Jeb had thought but hadn't said.
“It's likely.”
Jacky stopped walking. “Then what the hell is happening to Maddie?”
Kennet walked to Jacky. “I do not want any Reflective female in harm's way. Take heart that she escaped the drugged flesh trade that Ryan implemented in Papilio.”
“You think your world is the only one who does that?” Jacky asked, his face disdainful. “Hell—we have that back home.”
The Reflectives were silent.
“We must free the Reflectives. With all of us together, we can right these injustices,” Calvin said, keeping watch of their front.
“Once we have them, we return to Papilio and free our females and the other insurgents.”
“But she will be here while you guys figure out all that bullshit. We can't leave her here once we nab the Reflectives.”
Jeb knew Jacky was right.
“Let's see what transpires after liberating my comrades.”
Jacky's face was miserably conflicted. “I guess that's fair.”
Jeb nodded. The whole debacle was not fair, but it was what they had to work with, and it wasn't fair.
*
Ryan stood in the far corner of the wide square mat.
Beth noticed it had once been a light gray; the edges still bore the original color. It was now stained rust with the blood of the Reflectives.
Ryan bounced on the balls of his feet, his massive arms teeming with the vitality of their species, thick veins bulging with the warmth and energy he radiated as he jabbed at the air in front of him.
In absolute opposition to Ryan's coiled agitation, Slade walked to his corner, his large hands on solid hips. His leg muscles bunched with the rolling of his hips as he walked. Streaks of blood, two stripes under each dark eye, decorated high cheekbones. Hair that reached his shoulders when loose was tightly bound at his nape.
Both males wore fitted shorts at mid-thigh length. Slade's were crimson, fitting for his species, and Ryan's were the deep-navy blue that was the uniform color for The Cause.
Ryan didn't deserve to wear the colors of the Reflectives.
The cavernous fighting house also served as the Reflectives’ prison. Beth had presumed they were mistreated, but they looked healthy—if filthy—fit, and well-fed. It told Beth that Dimitri was keeping them in top condition so they could kill one another.
Hundreds of light eyes peered through the bars of the the cage that held Reflective Ryan and Slade, Prince of the Bloodlings.
Beth stood beside Dimitri, assessing continuously for means of escape. She would not—could not—admit that she was worried for Slade.
Beth didn't care for him, but she didn't wish him ill.
He'd saved her, fed her, and allowed her to heal. Still, the bloodlings were true to their namesakes—bloodthirsty.
But Beth had seen a compassionate side in a supposed enemy—hope, came to roost in the recesses of her mind.
Hope was a useless emotion. However, sometimes, it was the only thing that remained.
Many Reflectives had caught sight of Beth, and their hard expressions told her they misinterpreted her presence. Not that she could blame them.
Beth smiled when she recognized the guard whose balls she had almost fashioned into earrings. He banged a gong, announcing that the fight had begun.
Dimitri leaned next to her ear and said in an intimate whisper, “My money's on
Ryan.”
Beth turned to look at him and used the two words that never seemed to need translation: “Fuck you.”
Dimitri chortled, his masculine glee abruptly cut off as Slade and Ryan collided in the center of the ring.
Let the games begin.
*
Jeb heard the sharp strike of a deep thrumming gong. Calvin and Kennet had their backs pressed to the stone walls of the fort.
“Showtime,” Jacky said.
Jeb nodded. He hoped they could blend with the other Reflectives once they were released.
Jeb edged along the wall in the absolute dark that was a gift to their penetration of the fort.
They made slow progress to the back of the entrance. The roar of the crowd inside the fort made it impossible for Jeb to locate certain signs, sounds… and Beth.
Finally, his fingers met the stone where it curved to a large door.
He spun to meet whatever guard might be at the rear entrance, and a nightloper greeted him with gnashing teeth inches from his face.
Jeb stepped into their charge, as he'd been trained to do.
Where others fled and gave space, Reflectives were taught to move forward.
Twelfth: embrace fear not, for it leads to death.
His blade was married to his palm, and he used it, his ragged breaths regulated to minimize noise.
Still, when the nightloper’s talons pierced Jeb, he met the strike with his dagger, plunging the serrated edge into his attacker.
Jeb fought the agony of the puncture wounds, and his right hand fisted over his left as he dragged the blade upward, dividing the beast's guts into a neat pile, which fell steaming to the ground.
He kicked the nightloper with his damp boot, and the claws that were sunk deeply in Jeb's flank tore out. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from bellowing.
Jeb swung his head and saw Jacky pinned against the wall with the teeth of a nightloper that was clearly half-rat against his throat.
He leapt, arcing his left hand above his head and embedding the dagger to the hilt in the center of the rat man's head.
“Bad!” Jacky wheezed as though his aura-reading cleared that up.
The nightloper rat froze, momentarily stunned as Jacky slid out from underneath tapered ebony nails and four-inch incisors.
“Fuuuuckk me!” Jacky screeched.
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