Beth asked Gunnar to keep his distance. She can't think with the big Bloodling looming over her. He watches her as much as she studies him.
Beth thinks her re-hydrator is completely out of food stores now. Between the two Bloodlings, they've eaten the remainder of the food.
“You eat quite a bit for a small hopper,” Gunnar comments from across her domicile. He has his pointer and thumb digits close together, an obvious jab at her size.
Beth leans against the couch, crossing her feet at the ankles.
“Kicking your ass gave me an appetite.” Beth's lips peel back off her teeth.
Gunnar grins, regarding her. He tosses his blade by the hilt, expertly catching it on the downward rotation, like a juggler of weapons.
She has so many questions. They crowd, polluting her mind of sane and rational thinking. He's her father, and that is mind-blowing. But he is also a dangerous Bloodling who she doesn't know. The two sides don't reconcile themselves easily.
Beth blinks, her belly full. Her heavy-lidded gaze rotates to Slade, taking in his phony Reflection façade.
“You got the eyes wrong,” Beth says, swinging a finger in his direction.
Slade lids dip over eyes so dark a gray they could never fall within Reflective norms. He’s still masquerading as a Reflective, which is hilarious. His appearance is more like a Reflective costume than a proper likeness. He frowns.
Beth yawns, and Gunnar's eyebrow hikes at her show of fatigue.
“Stay where you are, Dad,” she says sarcastically as her gaze moves from Slade.
Gunnar seemed farther away the last time she looked.
Beth hiccups and slaps a hand over her mouth. Then she giggles. What the hades is wrong with me?
“You're too big, too,” she levels her gaze on Slade.
His eyes move to black.
“Your costume is slipping,” Beth says, giggling again. Her vision triples.
Beth jerks upright. Slade is suddenly beside her on the couch. Her fingers move to jab him in throat, a classic close-quarters defensive move.
He easily captures her sluggish strike and puts an arm around her shoulders. “Careful, tiny frog, don't bite the hand that feeds you.”
Beth struggles to open her eyes. “Didn't feed me—I fed you.” She can't stop her head from lulling onto Slade's broad shoulder.
She blinks open her eyes, feeling as if she needs toothpicks to keep them open.
Butterflies swarm above her as though warning Beth.
Gunnar moves close, and Beth mewls thickly, her body seizing into a paralytic state. “Stop—what…” Beth licks her lips. “What did you do to my food?”
Gunnar smiles. “Nothing to your food, Beth.”
Sampson swirls down, and it appears Gunnar might hurt her treasured companion.
Beth grabs the only part of him she can reach—his weapons belt—and yanks the tether.
His pants fall with it. When Gunnar moves to scoop up his fallen article of clothing, Beth surges forward.
No one hurts papiliones.
With one hand on his pants, Gunnar catches Beth as she pitches forward.
Slade does too.
Jeb appears in front of her like a mirage.
Beth only has time to register his eyes moving over two Bloodlings, one with his pants at his ankles, both with their hands on her.
“Jeb—” Beth says with weak surprise then begins to crumple between the Bloodlings.
His roar follows her down into the darkness of unconsciousness.
*
Jeb
Jeb jogs out of the jump and into the unkempt front grounds of Beth's domicile.
Calvin lands behind him, smoothly averting a collision then circles back around to where Jeb stands.
“Positioning,” Jeb announces with quiet menace.
Calvin nods, moving to Jeb's left. They creep toward her front door, where Jeb notes its lock.
Jeb plucks a duplicate key Beth gave him when they left that morning in case they were separated.
Only her unique thumbprint will work at the pulse security dock, so he must use a physical device.
Jeb remembers his uncharitable thoughts of how inane that was. When would he allow himself to not stand as protector over Beth?
His lips flatten as he pulls his ceramic switchblade.
The weapon is strictly forbidden on Ten, but Jeb acquired the black-market blade on Three.
Jeb stands at the door, placing his palm flat against the smooth, ancient wood, and regulates his breathing. He forces his mind blank and sends out that instinctive search mechanism all Reflectives have for their soul mates. He never thought he would need to employ it on his own sector, or to find a fellow Reflective.
The tendrils of clinging energy weave away from his torso, lacy vines of heat seeking Beth.
When he finds her, those appendages sing back to him.
His eyes pop open, and Calvin marvels at him. “It's true then? The soul mate legends.”
Jeb nods. “So terribly true.”
“But Beth Jasper.” Calvin shakes his head.
Jeb wastes an unhappy look on his friend and fellow Reflective.
“Okay.” Calvin swings his palms up inoffensively. “Apologies.”
Jeb clenches his jaw and passes through the door, palming the flat pulse key inside his uniform pocket. They take the stairs, with Jeb gliding along the ornate handrail, Calvin opposite him.
When they reach the door marked2, Jeb gives the barest nod to Calvin.
Jeb keeps his weapon by his side, blade out, and moves inside directly after Calvin smashes open the door with a well-placed strike of his foot.
The scene before Jeb bottoms out his stomach, nearly making him drop his weapon.
The large male Bloodling and the rogue Reflective, whom Jeb has become increasingly certain is also a Bloodling, are holding Beth between them.
The older male’s lack of pants has Jeb moving before his next breath.
“Jeb,” Beth says in a voice that's little more than a whisper on the air. Her soft plea incites every male instinct he possesses.
Jeb leaps from where he stands; the Bloodlings’ eyes widen like slick pools of water and malice.
The older of the two drops Beth on the couch and crouches, hissing at Jeb as he barrels into him.
They roll, tumbling over the back of the couch, and slam into the half-meter solid-stone wall. Jeb leaps to a stand, and the Bloodling thumps the flats of his palms into Jeb's chest. Jeb grabs onto the tight black hair club secured at the Bloodling's nape before he flies backward.
They fall together, and Jeb releases his hold, jabbing the Bloodling in the throat. He gives a return strike to Jeb's temple, and Jeb’s vision trembles.
Jeb flings himself backward, casting his arms wide, and does a backflip that takes him just out of reach of the huge Bloodling.
They circle each other, though the Bloodling's pants at his ankles causes him to shuffle.
Jeb tries to tamp down his rage at the inference of the Bloodling not having pants.
Impossible.
Jeb tenses and moves in hard, peppering his jabs at the organs protected behind bone.
Talons punch his shoulder, and Jeb grunts.
His eyes flick to Beth lying on the couch, and his adrenaline surges, ripping through to his basest level.
With a howl, he jerks his chest away, and the talons pull out of his flesh. Jeb ignores the blood—and everything but the death of this Bloodling who would harm his soul mate.
“Jeb!” Calvin shouts in the background.
The Bloodling invites him to finish him by living.
Jeb moves forward, twisting the blade he managed to hang onto into an upward arc. He sinks it deep into the Bloodling’s gut. He hisses, burying his fangs in the torn meat of Jeb's shoulder.
“Stop, Reflective,” the Bloodling pants beside him. “I do not wish to end you.”
Jeb bares his teeth. “Fuck you.”
He turns the blad
e, trying for the Bloodling’s heart.
A hard shove loosens his hold.
Calvin comes at him, using both hands to shove him harder. “Stop! Merrick!”
Jeb turns his blade toward Calvin, his eyes flicking to Beth.
“Kill me if you want, Merrick—but it won't help Beth.”
His hands grip Jeb's uniform as blood pours out of the wound. Jeb's arm whips out, hitting the wall. A wave of vertigo latches onto his vision.
“That's it, Merrick. Calm down. Beth's okay.”
His eyes meet the pale blue of Calvin's. His gaze finds the strange-looking Reflective standing beside Beth then moves to the one he stabbed.
His noises of dying are satisfying to Jeb, whose smile is grim. At least he incapacitated the male before he could hurt Beth.
Then Jeb notices fire in his shoulder. He moves from underneath Calvin's hands, covering the wound on his shoulder with a slightly shaking hand.
Jeb looks to the male beside Beth. “Who are you?” Without waiting for an answer, he turns to Calvin. “Why did you stop me from finishing this one?” Jeb jerks his jaw in the direction of the struggling Bloodling at his feet.
“You'd be dead if it weren't for Beth,” the second Bloodling says.
Jeb frowns. “How is that—Bloodling?”
He nods. “I am the Bloodling that fought with Ryan. I am Slade.”
Jeb leans against the wall, taking in that bit of information. His eyes rake the male as the poorly rendered Reflective second skin falls away to reveal the very Bloodling who had carried away a beaten Beth.
“How does Beth have anything to do with my death?” Jeb straightens and winces at the excruciating pain in his shoulder. He pulls more healing power to the wound, redoubling his effort to close it.
Keeping a wide berth, Jeb skirts the writhing Bloodling and moves toward Beth.
“Not so fast, Reflective.”
“I have soul mate claim on Beth Jasper,” he says in a flat voice.
“No doubt, from your defense of her. But I think that won't matter a shit through a goose if you let her father die, do you?”
Jeb's head whips to the dying Bloodling then back to Calvin, who raises his hand slowly. “I got in there when I could, Merrick. You were going to rip that male's prick off.”
He was. He still wants to.
Jeb inhales deeply, and his lungs feel bathed in fire. “So what's to stop me from finishing the job?”
Slade's flat-black irises blink back at Jeb, unnerving him. “Because she might take exception to you killing her father.”
Jeb staggers back a step, his gaze riveted to the Bloodling bleeding out on Beth's stone floor.
They don't look alike.
Jeb stares.
He's wrong. They look so much alike. If he took away the Boodling’s gender, size disparity and the ashy skin, they could be twins.
Slade smiles, folding his massive arms. “Now you're in a little predicament, hopper. Beth believed she was an orphan until a half hour ago. Now you will make it a reality. Claim her all you wish. I do not think Beth Jasper is a forgiving female.”
He doesn’t know the half of it. Beth is many-layered. If Jeb inadvertently kills her father, she might forgive him the mistake.
But would she ever forget?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Slade
Slade could not be more pleased. He’s put Jeb Merrick soundly in his place.
The only portion spoiling the entire event is that a great warrior might die. Then Beth would be truly alone—except for himself, of course.
If Dimitri thought Slade would hand her over to him for a mate, his mind was well and truly gone.
No. Beth Jasper is his. She is the tiny frog meant only for him. And by exquisite coincidence, he might have removed two who would have stood as obstacles.
Slade flexes his hands, relishing having shed the tight Reflective “suit.” However, now that the magic that made the covering is gone, it simply means Slade must return to One. Appearing in front of the entire command of Reflectives as one of them with the renegade Gunnar at his side wasn’t so risky. That might have looked as though he had imprisoned a One. After all, what Bloodling would be foolish enough to jump to Ten with only the two of them? But if he and Gunnar were both “out” as Bloodlings in the volatile world, they would face a hundred or more Reflective warriors.
In fact, it is only a matter of time before the collective Reflectives jump to this very spot. Slade estimates they have a small window before the freed Reflectives follow Jeb Merrick's tailwind.
Right now, the love-struck fool is full of Bloodling poison and knowledge of his misdeeds. The circumstance is really too perfect.
Slade's internal musings are shattered when everything goes to hades in a handbasket and aliens move through Beth's door.
*
Beth
Her eyes flutter open.
Jeb.
That was the last thing she saw: Jeb charging to kill her Bloodling father.
Beth sits up, the world sways, and she falls back against the couch.
“Beth,” Slade says, startling her. He's back to looking as he should—like the hardened Bloodling prince she recalls from One.
Beth ignores him, searching the room for Jeb.
Her father and Slade drugged her somehow, and she's not willing to forgive that.
She finds him. “Jeb,” she calls out, but he doesn't listen, heading straight for her father.
“No—don't kill him!” Beth yells, trying to scramble off the couch.
Slade holds her.
She narrows her eyes at him. “Take your hands off me.”
Slade smiles, releasing her. “Whatever you wish, tiny frog.”
Beth knows nothing's ever been about what she wants and stands. The room tilts, and she stumbles forward until her hands hit the armrest of the couch.
Jeb is on his knees beside Gunnar.
The hilt of Jeb's blade is embedded in the Bloodling’s chest.
“Oh, Principle,” Beth says, covering her mouth.
Gunnar's arm swings up to cup her face. “My hopper.”
“Jeb, do something,” Beth says, putting her own hand over his. All thoughts of anger vanish in the face of his impending death.
He looks into her eyes. “I'm afraid I already did—I didn't intend to kill your father, but he stood above you, not wearing pants… I didn't know who he was, the circumstance.”
A hot tear brims, then follows the line of Gunnar's cool palm as it travels down her face.
Voices boom behind them, and Beth looks around as her father's hand slips away.
Jacky and Maddie burst through the door, Reflective Kennet at their heels.
His frantic eyes take in the scene. “Thank Principle. What in hades is going on here, Jeb?”
Jeb sighs. “The Bloodlings—I thought they were harming Beth, and it turns out the opposite was true.”
Beth looks up at Slade, who is stoic, adding nothing. “Slade—please, what can be done?”
He shakes his head. “Unless you have a kindred blood running around”—he waves a dismissive palm at the general vicinity of her domicile—“there is no chance. Gunnar allowed himself to be pierced by the blade, and I fear his secondary heart has been punctured. If it was his main heart”—Slade shrugs—“he would survive much, but this is too grievous a wound for him to battle without blood from a kindred.”
“What the hell is a ‘kindred’? And for the record”—Jacky points at Slade—“aren't these the bad guys?”
Beth nods. “Yes, but this Bloodling is my father.”
“Well… shit,” Jacky says.
“Yes,” Beth answers, holding the hand of the male she'd beaten up a scant hour ago. She’s done so much crying in the last day, she can't remember what it was like to live her entire life with dry eyes.
Her sadness soaks Gunnar, and she wipes the tears angrily from her cheeks.
Maddie slowly moves forward as Slade stands silently a
nd Jeb holds the wound he has at his shoulder.
“You're hurt, too.” Beth pries his hand away. The flesh is punctured with five holes—talons—and the surrounding skin is an angry scarlet.
Beth's attention moves to Gunnar, whose breath is labored. Beth hangs her head. Covering her eyes with her forearm, she sobs into her shirtsleeve.
I can't believe I've found him only to lose him. And by Jeb's hand.
“I think I can help,” a feminine voice says.
“Impossible,” Slade says with quiet wonder. It's the first time since Beth's seen him that his voice has held any emotion.
Beth looks at Maddie and meets wide midnight-blue eyes. Her gaze is slightly vacant, as though she's acting under compulsion.
Gunnar's eyes snap open, like black luster in a face chalky with death.
“My kindred blood,” he whispers.
Maddie nods, seemingly without fear of the huge Bloodling and she scoots between the end of the couch and where Beth crouches.
“What's going on?” Jacky asks, looking around at everyone.
“Don't let him hurt me,” Maddie says dreamily. Then she lies sideways across Gunnar's chest, her neck bare to his lips. His large hand covers the side of her head.
“I shall not hurt you,” Gunnar says with deliberate slowness, and it's obvious to Beth that he's using the last of his energy to speak.
“Ah no, not digging this sacrificial lamb thing.” Jacky moves forward, and Slade grabs him by the back of his neck, lifting him off the floor. His legs swing. “Let me down, ya clown!”
Slade doesn't, and Maddie scoots closer to Gunnar's mouth.
“Madeline…” Jeb moves forward as though to stop her.
Gunnar strikes deep. His jaws move as Maddie's blood flows into his mouth, and his throat begins to convulse as he draws deep.
“Slade—stop him. He'll kill her,” Beth says. She and Jeb didn't bring Maddie to Papilio for her safety, only to subject her to a death by the hands of a One.
“He will not. Watch, tiny frog.”
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