Beth searches for reflections, but none exist within night's embrace on One.
A rat nightloper falls on Slade's back, sinking its teeth into his shoulder. As he runs toward Beth, he tosses it off, a chunk of his flesh in its teeth.
So much for ignoring instinct.
Beth buries her blade in the nightloper's shoulder, and the wolf’s mouth opens wide.
Beth strikes the nightloper’s throat with her knuckles, rolling away.
The wolf lands on her back.
She screams, and her gaze meets Slade’s. Beth's eyes are flat black discs of fear and determination. Slade's emotions swell from the proof of her courage, and that small seed of tenderness he harbors grows larger.
Slade mutters a curse. This female has the bravest heart of any he's ever known. And a nightloper bite will make things far worse for her.
Slade rushes the distance, and something grabs his feet. He falls, kicking backward, and hears a satisfying crunch.
Beth raises her forearms to protect her face. Slade springs to his feet then leaps the remaining distance. He misses.
Slade leans forward and grabs the leg of her pants. He pulls her to him with everything he has… just as the wolf clamps down on her leg.
Slade's momentum sets the nightloper's teeth more soundly, and Beth wails.
Slade releases her immediately. Heaving a mighty hiss of rage-fueled venom, he lands on the nightloper.
He falls on top of Beth, killing the nightloper above her. The breath whooshes out of her body, and Slade quickly rolls off the nightloper's body, prying its mouth off Beth's leg.
Beth sharply inhales. “Get me up!” she says, her eyes frantically searching for the rest of the group as she struggles to move the wolf's body.
Slade rolls the nightloper off her, covering her wound with his large palm.
Their eyes meet. Silence replaces the war-torn sounds of moments before.
“What? Slade—where is everyone?”
Slade says nothing but slides his arms underneath her and stands.
“I can walk, Slade.”
Fine. He sets Beth on her feet, and she takes a step before slamming a hand into his arm. “Principle—what is it?”
“Poison.”
Beth blinks as more nightlopers charge toward them.
Slade spots a rope dangling five feet away, and he makes a decision.
Beth's already crouched, poison dulling her eyes. Her limbs tremble as she readies for the next siege.
“Forgive me, tiny frog.”
Slade picks her up by the armpits and heaves her at the rope. “Grab ahold!” he bellows as she flies.
Beth reaches for the rope, automatically twisting her small legs around its breadth.
His eyes hold hers for a heartbeat as she's hoisted toward the sky. Toward safety.
“Slade!” she screams.
He ignores her and turns to face his enemy.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Merrick
Merrick grabs for Beth, kicking himself for letting Slade protect her when, clearly, he wasn't up for the job.
She clutches at him, latching on to his fingers, and he easily swings her onto the platform.
“Jeb—” She turns so quickly, she almost loses her balance, and he tightens his hold.
“Get back,” he grinds out and wraps an arm around her.
“We can't leave Slade down there!” she yells.
We most certainly can.
If only Jeb could be so fortunate for the hulking Bloodling to meet a timely end at the hands of the nightlopers.
He gently moves Beth from the edge and turns her.
The snarls, yips, and growls are not so easily ignored. Beth tries to look, and Jeb grasps her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Let Slade deal with his enemy, Beth. He risked his gray skin to save you.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I've been an ass. Ungrateful.”
Jeb shakes his head. Something is going on under the surface here; Jeb can feel it—and it has nothing to do with her conduct. “Stay here. He'll work it out.”
“Or not,” Jacky says from behind Jeb.
Jeb whirls, keeping a hold on Beth, lest she careen over the slim rail and plummet right back into the pit of nightlopers.
“Hey, dude.” Jacky backs away, hands raised.
Jeb seethes at him then looks behind Jacky. Kennet, Maddie, and Jacky are standing in a loose cluster while Gunnar speaks in low tones with some other Bloodlings.
“Where are the female Reflectives?” Jeb realizes he's absently stroking Beth's arm, and he forces himself to lower his hand, secure in the knowledge she's given up the idea of tossing herself back into the fray.
Gunnar breaks from his conversation. “The females have taken them for food and clothes. Calvin accompanies them.”
“So they're not off getting a little fang blood draw?” Jacky asks suspiciously, putting his pointer fingers in his open mouth to dangle.
He has a point.
Howling raises the hackles of everyone in the tree home, and Gunnar shoots a dismissive glance below, where Jeb assumes Slade is fighting for his life.
They really do let their own fight. That would never work in the world of the Reflectives, where everything is about partners. Or—it was.
“The women are safe. We didn't come all this way to outrun your corrupt Reflectives, only to debase defenseless women. Do you know nothing of our traditions?”
Jeb doesn't.
A howl that sounds like sure death wails from below, and everyone crowds to the rail.
Slade is making his way up one of the many ropes, hand over powerful hand. Without appearing to breathe, he glides effortlessly up the vine-like strands.
He swings near the top, and his feet catch the lip of the wood platform. Slade heaves himself up to grab the rail with one hand, and he hooks the rope on top of a peg with the other. He jumps over the rail that hugs the platform's perimeter.
His eyes calm when they light on Beth.
Jeb wants to push him back into the mess below.
“How did you get away?” Slade looks to Gunnar. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Gunnar's lips quirk at Slade's glare. “You did not need it.”
Slade grunts and walks to Beth, who moves to meet him. The slap she delivers echoes in the intimate space beneath the low ceilings of the open tree house.
“Don't you ever do that again. I could have helped.” She trembles with rage.
Slade grabs the hand that hit him, and Jeb strides forward. Slade presses his lips to Beth’s open palm, meeting Jeb's eyes over the top of her fingertips.
Jeb growls, moving right into Slade's chest. Three inches separates them in height, but nothing does so in intellect or ingenuity.
“Don't touch her.”
Slade's head cocks to the side, his eyebrow sweeping in a sardonic tilt. “She wants me to, hopper. Do you not feel her blood call to mine?”
Jeb doesn't even turn to look at Beth. He forecasts nothing. One minute, his hands are by his side; the next, his fist is buried in the Bloodling's gut.
Beth jerks out of the way.
Slade bends in half, taking the strike, and Jeb raises his knee, plowing his kneecap into the Bloodling's face. Slade begins to drop, jabbing Jeb between the legs so hard that Jeb falls to the floor, holding his nuts while blood from Slade's nose sprays them both.
“Boys!” Gunnar strides toward them as Beth backs away. “Play nice!”
“Jeb!” Beth yells.
Gunnar seizes Jeb's nape as well as Slade's bound hair and slams their heads together.
The sheer strength of the maneuver shocks Jeb even as he falls back, still clutching his balls, while stars explode in his narrowing vision.
“He can kick some ass,” Jacky says in awestruck wonder from the sidelines.
Jeb would cheerfully kill Jacky if he could reach him. But he's too busy holding down his gorge.
“Now. Beth is safe, while you two infants play at bei
ng males. My daughter should not have to contend with the likes of you while being in danger.”
Beth looks from Merrick to Slade. “Nobody's fighting over me. Jeb is my partner—Slade is a relative.”
Jeb glances at Beth and doesn't like how pale she is.
Slade chokes, getting to his hands and knees on the floor, gurgling a response.
“What?” Gunnar asks, cupping his palm behind his ear. “I can't hear that.”
“He said she's not his kin,” Maddie answers in a hesitant voice.
Jeb sees the fear in her face as she looks at Gunnar.
Jeb’s nausea rolls through him as he struggles to stand. Beth grabs his elbow, and pride makes him pull away from her. She retreats, giving him his space.
His crotch throbbing, Jeb glares down at Slade, who also manages to gain his footing.
Gunnar stands loosely between them. “Now that I have your attention, let's run through the facts.”
Jeb says nothing, pleased that he's no longer in the fetal position.
“I have found I have a daughter, because by pure happenstance, I jumped with Slade.” Gunnar's nearly black eyes look at each face in the room, including the two Bloodlings who hang back, staying out of the chaos. “We have brought back a few hoppers.”
“Sounds like one of those bigotry names,” Jacky says from his corner of the large room.
“This isn’t the time for political correctness,” Maddie comments softly.
“Uh-huh, whatever.”
Gunnar's eyes narrow on Jacky. “If you mean that hopper is a derogatory term for a Reflective, then you are correct.”
“Wasn't Beth's mom a hopper?” Jacky asks smoothly, keeping a smug grin on his face.
“She was,” Gunnar answers without expression.
“Then why put down a whole species if you dug her so much, and—duh—there's your daughter.” Jacky's palm swings toward Beth. “She hops pretty well, and so do you, big dude.” Jacky's self-satisfied grin widens just a touch.
“All true. But I am pure Bloodling. It is an honor to jump if the blood of the hoppers doesn't flow in my veins.”
Jacky snorts. “You guys are as stuck up as them.” Jacky jerks his jaw toward Kennet and Jeb.
“Perhaps. But before my incarceration, I managed the Bloodlings under the steadfast hand of Gunnar's sire.”
“What happened?” Beth asks, giving a nervous glance below.
Slade follows her gaze. “They won't climb to get to us.”
Her eyes shift to Slade. “Why?”
“The vines are poisonous to nightloper blood.”
“Awesome,” Jacky deadpans.
Gunnar ignores the side conversation and returns to his history. “In any event, with the Bloodling king deceased and after my unfortunate breakdown and subsequent imprisonment, the slaver had easy access to our females.”
Beth and Jeb step forward.
“It's been twenty years that Dimitri has held our women, keeping us in our place through threats of violence against them.”
Maddie walks out to stand before Gunnar and Slade. “What did they do?”
Gunnar's eyes dip, and Slade speaks to the pockets of open forest, where branches move swiftly, beating against each other. The melody of the leaves churns its own music here on One.
Gunnar lifts his eyes and takes her chin gently, turning her face as if studying a prize. “Something that will never happen to you, little hopper.”
She moves her face away from his hand. “It's Madeline.”
He frowns, dropping his hand to his side.
“He looks like a guy that just got shut down, Maddie. Nice.”
Maddie doesn't look at Jacky. “I'm not shutting anyone down. But we've established hopper is their crass name for Reflective.”
Gunnar suddenly grips her shoulders and jerks her toward him. Maddie gives a startled yelp, and the two Bloodling guards surge forward, barring the others from interfering.
“We shared blood, Madeline.” Gunnar says her name strangely, like musical notes barely caressed.
“So?” she replies in a shaking voice.
He looks at the Reflectives. “Who understands any Bloodling history?”
Beth sighs. “I guess I should have stopped it.” She looks down at her feet then stubbornly raises her chin. “But the truth is, even though I'm angry with your neglect of me—”
“Ignorance,” Gunnar corrects.
Beth ignores him. “I couldn't let you die. I knew what would happen if Maddie gave you blood, and I wanted you to live worse than I cared about her fate. It was wrong. And selfish.”
Beth turns to Maddie, and Jeb's gut tightens. Whatever she will say is not good.
Maddie swallows hard. “What does me giving him blood have to do with anything?”
Beth inhales deeply. “A blood donation from a kindred is similar to having sex.”
“What?!” Jackie yells, slapping his forehead. “No way!”
Maddie takes a step backward, increasing her distance from Gunnar.
“Yes way,” Beth replies, easily slipping into Three terminology.
Jeb shuts his eyes. Another complication we didn't need.
Perfect.
“How could you?” Maddie whirls, facing Beth. “I mean, I—” She flushes a deep red. “I haven't done that, with anyone.”
“Huh?” Jacky scratches his head. “Not even Chase?”
Jeb groans as Maddie bursts into tears. “I didn't know. I just—I had to help him. It's like my body demanded it!”
Jeb folds his arms.
What a fucking mess.
“I'm sorry, Maddie. I can't take it back. And honestly, I want answers from him.” Beth turns and glares at her father. “And by Principle, I will get them.”
“In time, my hopper daughter, you shall know more than you ever wished to.”
Jeb doesn't like the ominous ring to Gunnar’s words, mainly because they sound like the truth.
And that has been in short supply since they met up with the Bloodlings.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Slade
Slade can feel the nightloper's hate, their lust to taste his blood, but the nightlopers no doubt took their orders from Dimitri.
He knew the escape was too easy, too choreographed. There were far too many nightlopers for the others to have remained unscathed, and for only him and Beth to be left on the ground.
But Slade was unwilling to give Beth up on their terms.
They would be in for a surprise.
Their unerring gazes travel after Beth as she's pulled high above them. Their expressions of just missing the prize would be comical if the situation weren't so grave.
Only when she is safely ensconced inside his home in the trees does he turn his attention to the lion nightloper.
His gold eyes flash in the heavy gloom and slowly spin. Caught as both animal and humanoid, the nightloper is forever between the two forms, destined for a nocturnal existence.
The lion bares his teeth, and a wolf nightloper behind him howls mournfully.
The lion steps forward, tossing a partial mane behind him. Cheekbones like slash marks hover beneath the piercing gaze of captured twin suns. A muffled roar as soft as a whisper slips between his lips, and talons click as he clenches his fist.
“You were to hand the hopper over.”
“Yes.” Slade nods. “I will. In my own way, at my own time.”
The lion circles Slade, and Slade wags a finger in his direction. “Be of a care, before I take your head and feed on the rich blood from your neck.”
A true roar issues forth, sending a raw echo floating above them.
The others will think I am being ripped to shreds. The deception would be fitting to cover his current bit of maneuvering.
“Dimitri tries to gain Beth Jasper before the remaining half of the females of our kind have been returned.”
“What's left of them.” A hyena nightloper snickers behind Slade.
Slade spins, slicing t
he hyena’s throat with two talons. The hyena's speckled eyes widen; half-animal hands move to circle his throat. A long gash appears like a yawing second mouth.
The surrounding nightlopers observe but do not interfere.
When the wound fills with blood, they attack the hyena.
Slade watches with a detached amusement. In typical nightloper fashion, they consume the weak.
His attention returns to the lion. The yips and yelps of the feeding nightlopers create a terrible din. Again, good cover for subterfuge.
The lion heaves a great exhale. “I cannot kill you, Prince of the Bloodlings. I can only deliver the message. But know this”—he points an amber-colored talon at Slade's chest, and Slade folds his arms, feigning boredom when actually, he is cautious of the lion’s movements—“Dimitri will be most unhappy you did not deliver the hopper.”
Slade walks into the talon. It pierces his chest, and blood runs down his breastbone from the shallow wound. “There will be no hopper mate for Dimitri lest he agree to the rightful exchange agreed upon. She for our females. That is all.”
Slade steps back and opens his arms in mock surrender.
Then he shows the lion his back in a fluid spin and leap, easily grabbing the hanging rope that would blacken nightloper fingers from touch alone.
He climbs with steady sure arms, one after the other, as he has done for three centuries.
Dimitri will not have Beth Jasper, nor will Jeb Merrick.
She is his alone.
And the females belong to no one but the Bloodlings.
Slade does not think he can't have it all. He was born to rule.
And rule he shall.
*
“You're still bleeding,” Beth tells Slade as they gather with the others around a table within the five connected tree homes of Bloodling royalty.
Many more curious eyes study the Reflectives from afar, hidden by vine and tree. Slade can feel their eyes on the group, and he wonders if the foreigners do, as well.
Slade dabs at the superficial wound. “Nightloper damage heals more slowly,” he says, giving a shrug of both dismissal and explanation.
Jeb glares at Slade from across the table, and Slade smirks, enjoying the discomfort of his competition for Beth's affections.
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