reflection 02 - the reflective cause

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  The Reflective male is a creature of high self-importance. Beth, who is seated beside Slade, seems to have missed that abject lesson of arrogance so prolific within believers of The Cause.

  Slade realizes his thought process is somewhat unfair. Jeb is a highly skilled fighter—all hoppers are. After all, Lance Ryan almost killed him in that ring. If it hadn't been for Slade’s superior healing ability, Reflective Ryan might have been the victor.

  Slade belches quietly behind his fist, searching for the servant nightloper to signal for more blood. Sloth nightlopers, one of the few nightloper breeds who can stand the life in the trees, are the natural slaves of the Bloodlings. One sees him and comes forward.

  Maddie shies away from the sloth. His stealthy movements and glowing eyes might be too new for the frail Three.

  “Do not be afraid. They're harmless,” Gunnar says, frowning in concern.

  Jacky throws up his hands. “Okay. I'd die for some fries.” He looks around the table, picking up some greens for the first course and letting them fall with a finger flick. “That aside, I'd like to mention how freaking weird it is that you guys have rodents serving you up in a tree house with half-animal dudes circling the trees down below. Sorry, there's just no way to explain the weird out of that. So Maddie being kinda blown away by the bizarre bullshit of—where the hell are we?”

  Beth lets her chin collapse into her fist with apparent resignation. “One.”

  Jacky snaps his fingers. “Right—One. Is just the tip of the weirdness iceberg. So, yeah, she's kind of afraid of all the new sights in this place. And I can't say I'm all on board, either. And can we get some real food? I know you dudes aren't surviving on this.” He points at the greens.

  “That is food,” Slade comments in a dry voice.

  He and Gunnar share a glance, then his eyes turn to Jacky. “I think, while you're here, if you don't want to be in a sequestered location alone you will censor your commentary, Three.”

  Jacky sighs. “And everyone's so butt hurt all the time.”

  “Jacky,” Maddie says in a warning tone.

  “Tell me I'm lying?” he asks her.

  Maddie shakes her head, biting her lip. “Not lying,” she agrees softly, a smile softening her mouth.

  Gunnar's eyebrow slowly rises, and she gives him a nervous glance.

  “But,” she adds, “we're their guests. We're at their mercy. The Reflectives are kinda crazy, and those things are down there. This is as good as it's going to get.”

  Jacky seems to ponder her words. “Okay, but first chance we get, we're popping back to Earth, and I'm eating about ten pizzas and ordering a case of amnesia that lasts”—Jacky's eyes go to the thatched roof—“about since the day my ass landed in Papilio.”

  “You're an ungrateful prick,” Merrick says in a steady voice.

  Slade leans back, putting his arm around Beth and cupping her shoulder.

  Merrick's face darkens as Beth gives Slade a speculative look.

  “Yup. Stick a fork in me; I'm done.” The Three doesn't even bother to defend his conduct.

  Slade likes that. “Let the crazed hoppers come.”

  Jacky turns his attention to Slade—they all do.

  “It will not matter. We are the species with the brains.”

  “What about the night guys?” Jacky asks.

  “There are more of them than us,” Slade admits neutrally.

  “So they can't puzzle shit out, but there's a lot of them, and they go hard.”

  Slade blinks, rapidly wading through Jacky’s strange terminology. “Yes.”

  “Then it's not bad that you have some Reflectives and me here.” He jabs a thumb in his chest.

  Slade's eyebrows rise. “Oh?” The young Three will grow into his manhood, but he is short and not fully muscled yet. Of course, Three males are not renowned for their physiques.

  Jacky nods, ignoring Slade's slow perusal. “Yup. You see, I don't care about politics, hurting people's feelings, or taking long showers together. I want to get home. I want Maddie to come with.” His eyes meet the others’ stares. “And Merrick's got a permanent stick embedded in his ass.”

  Merrick rises.

  Jacky's eyes fly to him. “Chill! God, Merrick.” His gaze shifts back to Slade. “But he does the right thing.”

  “He has integrity,” Maddie adds.

  “Exactly,” Jacky says, giving her a smile. He laces his hands behind his head and grins across the table. “And Jasper, well, she's in a tight spot, but she's got an assload of dudes running around, trying to protect her.”

  Beth's chin comes off her fist, and she opens her mouth.

  Jacky rolls his eyes. “Not that she's down with that.”

  She closes her mouth then opens it again. “Absolutely not. I don't need a male to protect me.”

  Merrick looks at her.

  Slade does, as well.

  Color sweeps her cheekbones. “Usually,” she amends with barely veiled embarrassment.

  “What I'm saying is, I'm a pain in the ass, but I'll get the job done. Because I'm motivated.”

  “To return to that criminal planet. Three?” Gunnar confirms.

  “You got it. Criminal or not, there's not a bunch of vamps and night-whatevers waiting to knock you on your ass and suck you dry.” He slaps his thighs, and Maddie jumps.

  “Okay. Said my piece.” He looks down at the wilting greens.

  “Got any meat in this joint?”

  Slade grins. He likes the boy very much.

  He'll be a perfect sacrifice if the situation presents.

  And most certainly, one will.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Beth

  “May I speak with you?” Jeb asks, and Beth struggles to keep her relief from washing over her face. She’s pleased to have a safe place to have five seconds to communicate with Jeb in private.

  But Beth worries Slade's tree houses might somehow be just another prison.

  She longs for Papilio, the vineyards outside her windows, and her butterflies. Sadness beats at her insides, and a lump of unshed tears clogs her throat.

  She fights her feelings, shoving them deep inside.

  Jeb reaches for her arm.

  Beth visualizes Slade's dark eyes gazing up at her from the forest floor as nightlopers surround him.

  He was calm; Beth is not.

  “Beth?” Jeb shakes her gently.

  His hand circles her upper arm, and she chokes back a sob as those stuffed emotions well to the surface again.

  “Don't touch me—I can't handle it, Jeb. I miss my home, our life… The Cause.”

  In the semi-privacy of his small borrowed tree room he pulls her against him.

  She hits his chest with her fist. “Don't,” she repeats.

  Jeb murmurs reassurances into her ear, closing his massive hand around her small one. “It's okay, Beth. I'm here.”

  Beth rests her forehead between the flat muscular planes of his chest. His heart beats against her temple.

  “It's all right to be sad. Give yourself permission to be female, Beth. It's not a sin.”

  His warm hands fall to her middle back, caressing at the same time they draw her nearer into the strength of his body.

  Beth groans in defeat. The feel of Jeb's arms around her and the comfort he offers her is irresistible when she's so emotionally fragile. Beth has lived in abject loneliness for too long, with only the blessing of the Principle, her brains, and an inherent reflective ability to aid her.

  Her hands are free, and it's bad.

  But it feels so good. Her fingertips inch their way around Jeb's trim waist and sink into the hollow at the small of his back, mirroring his hold on her.

  “Beth,” he squeezes out between clenched teeth, “I can't hold back with my soul mate. You're playing with fire.”

  She tips her head back, and Jeb's pale-gray eyes have darkened threateningly. “You would hurt me?”

  He gives the barest shake of his head, drawing a finger along
her cheekbone, then cups the side of her face. “Never.”

  “Then I have nothing to worry about. If I have to back away, would you allow it?”

  Jeb's lips curl, and he says tenderly, “I would not like it, Reflective Jasper.”

  Her face falls, and she bites her lip, tears threatening.

  “Hey now.” Jeb bends down and tilts her chin up so that he can look deep into her eyes. “I meant that as a compliment. I don't see you as I do other females. You are a Reflective warrior—I haven't forgotten.”

  “And your soul mate?” she asks, searching his eyes, still in disbelief.

  “Always that. Never doubt it.” His hand glides to her nape, and Beth's eyes close. She sinks into the gentle touch of his murderous hands, hands like her own.

  “I'm sure that will bring you nothing but grief on Papilio,” a sarcastic voice says from behind them.

  Beth gasps, and Jeb puts her protectively behind him.

  Slade's huge bulk fills the doorway.

  Beth hears the dry click as she swallows. “Try knocking.” Her voice sounds like a toad’s song.

  Slade's hand slowly rises, and with great exaggeration, he raps loudly twice on the wooden threshold. Beth fold's her arms, glaring at him in irritation.

  Slade saved her, and Beth has to admit, she feels something for him. She's not sure what—a sense of kinship or possibly gratefulness for saving her from Ryan? More?

  But right now, he’s pushing all of her buttons.

  “What rancor or problems come about from my declaration should not concern a Bloodling,” Jeb says, and Beth winces at his tone.

  He says Bloodling as if he means to say imbecile.

  Slade hears the disrespect as clearly as Beth does, and he strides forward.

  Jeb moves her aside.

  “No, Jeb,” Beth says quickly.

  She feels a little bad about what she does next. In a flash, she slashes her forearm with her own ceramic blade—deeper than she intended.

  Beth cringes as a line of red appears on an arm already littered with the fine scars reminiscent of her profession. What's one more?

  Slade halts, his head jerking to the wound, nostrils flaring at the scent of her blood. “What have you done?” he roars at her, fangs lengthening.

  “What I had to.” Her voice resonates in the space.

  “Dammit, Beth!” Jeb grabs her wrist, and Slade's hand is suddenly there, as well, gripping the arm that holds hers.

  The two males pull against each other as Beth bleeds. She knows what she must do, and she doesn't like it. But some evils are necessary.

  “I'm hurt,” she says in a voice full of something she never calls upon—feminine wiles.

  Slade drops Jeb's arm as though burnt and picks up her wounded one. His eyes dilate, and his fangs extend to their full length.

  His breathing is erratic, and his black gaze swells in her vision. It's all she can see, and she is all he stares at.

  “Get your fucking fangs put away, Bloodling,” Jeb says ominously.

  “No, Jeb. Slade must heal me.” Beth's eyes go to Slade's.

  His lips part, and his pupils dilate, giving way to eyes like solid obsidian gems.

  “Yes.” He pulls her forward and runs his nose over her bleeding forearm, hovering just above the wound. His tongue snakes out, lapping the blood, and he groans. Jeb is forgotten, just as Beth knew he would be.

  Slade leans his powerful body over hers and draws her closer with one arm.

  Jeb inserts himself between them. “Beth—no. There must be another way.”

  “Take my blood, Slade. I invite you to partake of my vein.”

  Beth feels the pierce of his fangs, and Jeb seizes Beth around the waist, tense and ready to jerk her away from the feeding Bloodling.

  “He'll tear my arm off,” Beth says in a panicked voice.

  Jeb's forehead flops against her shoulder, and he asks, “Why?”

  “Because we need him. We need Slade to navigate the treacherous waters of One. I can't have you two at each other's throats and hope to survive this.”

  Slade devours her blood, and she begins to feel weak. A riot of goosebumps rise in response to his suckling, and deep inside Beth, an erotic response echoes with each pull of his mouth. Beth seizes a harsh breath.

  Slade's eyes roll up to meet hers.

  He knows.

  Beth squeezes back her fear and surprise over her instant arousal, but the pulse between her legs frightens her more than anything in her entire life has. “We will own him a little with this,” she breathes through harsh pants.

  Jeb's arms squeeze around her. “Tell him to stop, or I'll kill him,” he says with menace.

  Beth hand reaches out, letting it hover reluctantly over the Bloodlingsʼ inky hair. “Slade, stop. You're making me weak.”

  Immediately, the pulls become gentle, and the horrible flood of heat between her legs and the tingling of her breasts ease. The invisible thread of his sensual heat loosens. A shaky breath escapes her, and she sags where she stands.

  Slade laps slowly, closing the wound.

  Beth's eyes go round.

  She can't see even a scar.

  Yet the crimson proof of his consumption paints his lips ruby.

  He bows at her feet, wrapping his huge arms around her thighs while Jeb hangs on to her waist.

  “Thank you for the gift of your blood, tiny frog.” His breath is hot just above and between her knees.

  Beth opens her mouth to reply with actual coherent words, but she can't. A powerful feeling builds from within her, rushing from every part of her body. The residual arousal rears its head again, swamping her body with heat. A wave of pleasure surges inside her. The most feminine part of her clenches and releases in rhythmic pulses then explodes as she gives a hoarse cry, slipping in Jeb's arms.

  He rights her. “Beth!”

  She floats, horribly ashamed of everything. She knew of the history of blood sharing. If a female willingly gives blood to a male Bloodling, the donor has a measure of control. She wants that power over Slade while she is on One. No more in-house fighting. It's about surviving the now then getting back to Papilio.

  Unfortunately, her history lessons failed to mention what would happen to the female while the male Bloodling fed.

  Beth had just experienced her first orgasm in front of the man who declared her as his soul mate.

  And he was not the male to cause that sensation.

  Beth wrenches out of both their holds. Shame floods her face with fire, threatening to melt her skin. She stumbles and grabs the doorframe. The males call out to her, but she doesn't turn.

  If she never faces either one of them again, that will be too soon.

  Worse, Beth is sure that both males have heard their share of females in the throes of ecstasy.

  Without looking back, she runs.

  Jeb calls out again, but Slade remains silent. Beth knows he understands what his feed entailed, and he's probably laughing at her.

  She runs, leaping between the homes without regard to the height or the nightlopers that might be below, until she's ten houses away. The shivering emerald canopy of trees is her only audience.

  When Beth finds a platform high up and away from everything, she cradles her head in her arms and cries.

  Her tears are for more than her current embarrassment, but also for the shame of being half-Bloodling herself. She mourns the mother who would hide her true ancestry and regrets that her father never knew of her birth or terrible upbringing. She cries for the two Threes she and Jeb stole away to her planet only to condemn them to danger. She weeps for the female Reflectives who might be jumping as she sits there, feeling sorry for herself. They might be jumping to Principle knows where, without locators, safety, or currency.

  Beth cries until exhaustion overtakes her.

  *

  Gunnar

  Gunnar jumps in silence, landing lightly onto the platform where Beth sleeps, tears staining her face.

  Th
e wood shifts and creaks underneath his weight.

  His throat constricts when he sees how much this small hopper reminds him of Lucinda.

  He watched Lucinda sleep many times. Gunnar's heart grows heavy as he observes his Reflective daughter in slumber.

  He failed to protect her mother.

  But he vows that will not be the case with Beth Jasper. Gunnar would die before he allows harm to befall her.

  He scoops Beth up, cradling her against his chest. She's as light as a feather.

  She fists his shirt in her sleep, uttering a quiet whimper. She wiggles closer, and his heart twists as a rare surge of tenderness overtakes him.

  She feels right in his arms. Gunnar wants to take her somewhere safe. His life will have been worth living if he can just see that one thing through.

  And Dimitri must never know of her.

  Gunnar will discuss with Slade about keeping Beth's presence secret. The nightlopers have already seen the foreigners.

  If word gets back to Dimitri, it will be bad for them all. As far as Dimitri is concerned, Beth is just a hopper.

  If he knew she shares Bloodling genetics, Dimitri would exploit that rare combination.

  Nightlopers have few females.

  Dimitri would surely want Beth for himself. As long as he is alive, Dimitri will not have her.

  With Beth still in his arms, he turns and leaps off the platform then catches the next platform with expert footing.

  Gunnar makes his way back to where Beth's temporary room is, but his eyes scan the forest floor.

  Worry is his companion all the way back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Merrick

  “You are a colossal pain in the ass.”

  “I'm aware.” Jacky leans back, lacing his fingers behind his head and trying to get comfortable on the strangest couch Jeb's ever seen.

  Why bother sitting down when it's practically at floor level?

  “Now you're just repeating yourself, Merrick.”

  The Three is right. If Jeb were not in the throes of being soul mated, he could think and react better. Now all the focus of working under The Cause has shifted to Beth.

  Beth.

  Jeb pinches the bridge of his nose.