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 heated 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 kil
l 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.
“Quiet!” Calvin hissed, cleanly taking off the head of the nightloper he and Kennet had killed.
“God—what are those things?”
“Nightloper,” Jeb said, but he was already moving. If three were guarding this entrance, he felt confident there would be more elsewhere.
They moved quietly through the large arched door.
Jeb knew very little about the illegal fighting. Reflectives didn't police primitive sectors as that was not a duty of The Cause.
He did understand prisons. And what Jeb needed to free the Reflective regime while the distraction of the fight was in full swing.
What he saw made him hesitate and stand riveted, his eyes sweeping over the tops of males who roared for the victor.
A bloodling and Reflective Ryan had beaten each other into bloody bodies of blurred motion. Jeb could hardly track the fists, then the blood spray misted from a chop to Ryan's jaw with his retaliatory kick causing the crack of bloodling bone.
Jeb tore his eyes away, finding Calvin and Kennet.
They lifted their chins in acknowledgment. Jacky pointed to a narrow corridor that flanked steep stone steps.
His face was turned to the backs of the males enraptured in the fight. He glanced back at the steep dark staircase. Jeb believed the mechanicals which operated everything to do with the prison, lay just ahead.
The small group took the steps three at a time. When they reached the zenith, Jeb stalked forward on silent feet.
The controls operator never knew he'd passed from this life to the next.
Jeb stepped over the body, sat down, and gazed at the controls.
Damn, they are too primitive. All of it was pre-pulse. A flutter of panic began in his chest.
“Scoot over, big dude. I got this,” Jacky said with a confidence Jeb didn't feel.
Jeb's eyes scanned the crowd through the control window and snagged on Beth, so small and dark next to what must be the slaver.
Jeb's hands gripped each other. It was all he could do to stay rooted to the spot.
“My grandpa was great on all this mechanical shit and used to let me play with all his gadgetry! I'm a pro!” Jacky chirped.
Jeb wanted to hit him.
Equally irritated, Calvin and Kennet came to stand behind the boy. “Release the Reflectives.”
Their eyes moved to the fighters. One lay on the ground unmoving.
“Huh, that's easy!” Jacky moved a few levers and hit a button.
Nothing happened at first.
Then a great churning of gears began, and the cell doors that had imprisoned the Reflectives opened slowly.
“See?” Jacky said, leaning back in the chair and lacing his hands behind his head.
“Come at me, guys.”
*
Slade dropped to his knees. Ryan delivered a final kick that landed on his chin.
Beth rushed to the cage as Slade toppled like an old-growth tree.
“Hopper!” Dimitri screamed.
Beth hit the cage, her fingers sliding through the metal links. She gripped and tossed herself over the three-and-a-half-meter-tall cage, spinning as she did.
Beth landed on her feet in front of Ryan, who was beaten but not finished.
He attacked in the way of the Reflective: brutal, instant, and merciless.
Beth’s only chance was that Ryan was worn from the fight with Slade. When his strikes connected with Beth, they held all the strength of his body.
It was mighty.
Beth danced away from his limbs.
His fist came for her jaw, and she captured it in both her hands, twisting viciously against the forward momentum.
His wrist broke, and she stepped into his body, her knee sailing up to his groin.
He deflected and she held tight to the broken wrist, swinging Ryan over her shoulder as he moved with her, flipping with her momentum and landing on his back.
She'd attached herself to him and he used it, giving a painful roar as he used his own broken wrist and jerked her tight, punching her in the jaw as she fell into him.
It was a glancing blow because she'd been in motion and too close for him to strike properly.
It still blurred her vision.
Beth brought it all, biting his bad hand like a snake striking.
Ryan howled and tossed her away from him.
Beth lay on her back, trying for air and finding none.
Then Jeb moved into her vision.
They shared a heart beat of silent communication while tears rolled out of her eyes and wet the mat underneath her.
She ha
d never been so grateful for anything as she was for him in that moment.
Jeb turned as Ryan came at him. He used all his momentum, delivering a skull-cracking blow that dropped Ryan where he stood.
Jeb held out his hand as the human mayhem swirled around them.
Beth took it, and he lifted her to her feet. She could hardly stand, her vision tripling.
“Let's go.”
Jeb led her away. Reflectives Calvin and Kennet flanked him with the primitive weapons of One they’d picked up along the way.
“Wait,” Beth said weakly.
She turned to look for Slade.
Only a bloodied outline of his body remained.
THE END
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The Reflective Cause, Book #2
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Directives of The Cause:
First: Right the wrong
Second: Bear no injustice
Third: Change not what must be
Fourth: Reflect only when unobserved
Fifth: Protect the young
Sixth: Take life only in defense of another
Seventh: No death is without consequence
Eighth: Defend those who cannot
Ninth: Forsake not honor, for it is all that remains
Tenth: Reconcile emotion for The Cause, not another
Eleventh: Divulge not your identity
Twelfth: Disturb not the continuum
Thirteenth: Forsake not The Cause
Sectors:
Sector One - Nightloper
Sector Three - Earth
Sector Seven - Bloodsingers
Sector Ten - Papilio
Sector Thirteen - Spheres
Unexplored sectors:
Two
Four through Six
Eight
Nine
Eleven
Twelve
Read on for a
BONUS NOVEL SAMPLING ....
THE TOKEN
A Token Series Novella
Volume 1
New York Times Bestselling author
MARATA EROS
All Rights are Reserved.
Copyright © 2013 Marata Eros
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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