The Reflective Dissent, page 12
Beth sucks a deep inhale and coughs from the pain. Her ribs are still bruised but healed from the breaks.
Natasha doesn't see Beth's wince of pain because she speaks to her feet. “The Men of the Tree saved me from the Fragment. I will be forever grateful.”
Beth straightens with an effort. “The Reflectives have repaired the damage caused by scientists from another world. They were allowing these criminals to roam free here—unpoliced—and you and other innocents were paying the price.” Beth recites the words by rote.
However, the deep pain riding the girl's face makes Beth's stomach churn. Of course, that's what Beth was bred for. The curator of justice. All Reflectives are.
Until her timepiece is no more.
Shouting reaches their ears, breaking up the small and brittle communion.
Beth recognizes Jeb's resolute words:
“I will see her.”
She knows that tone.
“Beth is not seeing males.”
Natasha's eyes cut to Beth.
“I will cut out your tongue if I hear the word no one more time.”
Beth leans over the railing, forgetting Natasha at her elbow, and nearly falls.
The height is so much greater than she knew, and her fingers cinch the round, smooth wood of the railing. The platform of wood encircling the two large coniferous trees is much higher than the sequence of Bloodling encampments.
Beth staggers backward, her back hitting the wall, and she ignores the pain of her stumble, slapping her palms against the rough feel of the wood beneath her fingers.
“Jeb!” she yells.
A scuffle, then a crash.
Jeb appears at the railing, balancing on the balls of his feet. His filthy uniform is no more, and a tightly bound deep brown tunic is cinched low at his hips, his bright gray eyes showcased like captured stars against all that brown leather. His gaze lands on her with the same intensity they've always possessed. Jeb's face and exposed body wear the healing marks of a severe beating.
Cyrn's behind him.
Natasha scatters, sprinting to the corner of the roughly four-by-four-meter room. Her eyes wide, she watches the males.
Cyrn shoves Jeb through the space between the railing and the low-slung roof.
Jeb dives gracefully, as though he wasn't pushed but jumped of his own volition.
Their eyes meet, and Beth's fill with tears, her relief at seeing her partner is that great. A person in this world who loves her, where none did before.
He whirls, facing the giant primate male, who still assumes a sort of half-gorilla, half-human form.
Beth takes him in for the unique specimen he is. She's still curious of their people but remembers Cyrn's disdainful treatment of her and maintains a wide berth.
“Get out,” Cyrn says to Jeb, and they circle each other.
Beth leaves the wall behind and steps beside Jeb. “I feel well enough. Jeb, Slade, and I can leave. I've slept—I've eaten.” She turns her head, giving a nod of thanks to Natasha, and her eyes return to sweep over Cyrn. I've drunk your blood, Beth does not say.
Beth's traitorous body chooses that moment to go wild with healing heat fueled by the food she's consumed, and she slumps. Jeb catches her, but a large hand swallows her bicep in his grip at the same time.
“Don't touch me,” Beth says, her eyes rolling up to Cyrn's whiskey-colored ones. They spin like warm fire as they smolder at her.
Cyrn smiles. “I have done far more intimate things to you than this, Reflective Jasper.” His voice is a rasp of velvet inside Beth, and every bit of the steel of her rebels against him.
Beth tries to jerk her arm away, but he yanks her to him instead.
She leans away from him, arcing backward.
Jeb snaps his fist into Cyrn's nose.
Then it happens, as Cyrn’s naked hand slides from her borrowed clothes and encircles her exposed flesh.
Something inside Beth explodes. A shield of some inexplicable invisible material melts away as though open to an inferno, and everything she is, everything she was, is no more.
Shaken, Beth backs away, though it's the last thing she wants to do. She wants to lie on this male and couple with him. Deep shame sears through Beth.
Just like that, her timepiece has vanished and, with it, her reservations about Cyrn. Because he is the one.
The prophesied soul mate.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
He will not lay hands on Beth.
Jeb punches the First Speciesʼ smug face. The male isn't expecting it yet rolls out of the strike neatly. Jeb's intended hit somewhat glances the target instead of being the sound tap he'd intended.
He moves in front of Beth protectively, but she skirts around Jeb, going toward Cyrn.
“No!” Jeb is sure Cyrn won't hurt her, but he needs to reflect them the hades out of here before anything else can delay them. Then there is the matter of Slade.
Beth moves beyond Jeb's reach, barreling into Cyrn.
Cyrn growls reactively, sees it's her, and his fangs lengthen as he grips her shoulders.
Jeb begins to move forward, his hands fisting.
She slides her arms around Cyrn's waist and hangs on, turning the side of her face and laying it against the huge male's chest.
Jeb stills.
The mute surprise overtaking the First Speciesʼ face would be funny if Jeb wasn't as shocked by Beth's actions as Cyrn.
What game is she playing? Whatever it is, maybe they can use it as a diversion to leave.
Sweat breaks out on Jeb's upper lip, and the urge to go to Beth and tear her away from Cyrn turns his guts. But he must extend trust. At the end of the day, Beth is his prophesied one—but she is also Reflective. The Cause is never far from their thoughts, and the Thirteenth threads through his brain.
Forsake not The Cause.
His soul might be promised to Beth, but his heart still believes in The Cause.
“What?” Cyrn pries Beth's arms from around him and pushes her gently away.
Jeb's shoulders slump in relief.
Cyrn's face darkens on Beth. “Do not—do whatever you were doing, female.”
“Cyrn,” Natasha says with ringing reproach, “Beth is weak from her physical trials. Maybe she needs something more.”
Blood.
Jeb's eyes travel Beth, wondering if this could be so.
Cyrn points a finger at Beth. “That female needs nothing but a swift kick in her behind.”
Jeb glares at the male while watching Beth's expression go from hard to hurt in a moment.
What has happened?
He looks between Beth and Cyrn, and a terrible thought begins to take shape. Could it be?
No.
Cyrn regards Beth with thinly veiled disgust. Natasha, who Jeb understands is Ulric's mate, stares also but with more compassion.
“Beth,” Jeb says softly, facing her back. Her arms hang limply at her sides—he's never seen her appear more defeated.
Beth doesn't turn or indicate in any way that she's heard him.
Jeb finally unclenches his jaw. “Is it your timepiece?”
Beth gives a single jerking nod.
His heart sinks, then Beth turns and holds out her hand to him. Slowly, Jeb takes it, and Beth spins toward him, falling into his arms.
He crushes her to him, daring to hope.
What she says next slays him—elates.
“There are two, Jeb.”
Jeb pulls away, searching her nearly black eyes as he cups her face. “Who?” For all his exterior show of calm, his heart hammers without mercy at his insides, battering. He notices a smudge of dirt across the bridge of her nose and a small bit of purple juice on her lush lower lip and he wants to kiss it off.
Jeb swallows. The breath he doesn't take swells, beginning to burn inside him, hurting the internal injuries he suffered at the hands of the First Species.
Cyrn strides to them, looming above Beth with a nasty disregard aimed at her like a weapon.
She reaches up, cradling his face. “It is you, Jeb Merrick.”
Jeb's shoulders relax, that fiery breath releasing in a whoosh. Thank Principle. He tastes the relief, and it's the finest meal he's ever had—the sweetest wine he's drunk.
He's waited these past months, and while he thought it would be years for Beth to discover who would be her soul mate, it is now.
She crooks her finger, indicating he should draw closer while the huge First Species is at her back and Ulric's mate silently looks on.
His eyes run over a suspicious Cyrn, making certain he does not touch her as he bends nearly in half to lean in close to her mouth.
Jeb frowns at her secrecy.
Their cheeks mingle, and her lips tickle his ear as she whispers in a frequency too high for most beings to overhear, “Cyrn is the other.”
Jeb's shock is too great to contain. He drops his hold on Beth, backing away, and Cyrn watches the interchange with far too much interest for Jeb’s liking.
“What is this?” Cyrn asks in a hiss, splitting his attention between them with sharp eyes.
But Beth doesn't answer him.
Cyrn takes advantage of Jeb's distance and grabs her arm, giving her a small shake. “What is happening?” he growls. “You are a cold and distant female, impervious to your own safety, talking of policing and defending races you do not know, then you embrace me?” His eyes land on her with distrust and accusation. “Someone whom you abhor more than yourself.” He hikes his chin, literally gazing down his sculpted nose at her.
Beth reaches up and touches his face. The gesture is clearly featherlight of a caress, but the giant male jerks his jaw out of reach, making a disdainful noise deep in his throat. “Stop your games, female.”
Jeb's exhale is exhausted, grief-filled.
Ulric explained how they would look upon a woman who would attempt to take her own life.
The pink ribbon of scar tissue is a glossy stripe against Beth's neck.
Was it the blood she drank from Cyrn? Did that disrupt the timepiece prematurely? Or was destiny forcing Beth into a slot plotted by fate?
And two males? Unheard of. However, most Reflectives are male. Why would a female be the one to have two mates and not the reverse?
And what of Slade, who supposedly claims Beth?
At that opportune moment, Slade hops lightly over the rail, joining Beth's bloated and awkward confession, though Cyrn remains unaware of her changed mindset, thank Principle.
Slade’s nostrils flare, and he looks first at Beth then Cyrn. “What has happened?”
“Beth's timepiece is no more,” Jeb answers in a flat voice as his hands ache to hold her.
Slade's eyes meet Jeb's with obvious disbelief, and he puts his hands on his hips, giving the evil eye to Cyrn.
Jeb longs for the First Speciesʼ death. If Jeb were lightning, he would have already struck him.
“Who is it, hopper?” Slade glares, and for the first time, Jeb notices his skin cast is wrong, sallow with a greenish undertone.
Jeb can't share Beth—and he knows Slade doesn't understand just how bad the news is.
Jeb slowly looks at Cyrn.
“What?” he seethes at them all, his molten eyes of gold narrowing to slivers of flame.
How can he possibly be Beth's soul mate? He is foul of manner and temper. He is fanged, for the love of Principle. Cyrn is some kind of prime male-slash-humanoid—ah, what does it matter? There is no reasoning with any of it. The compulsion is Principle chosen. Reflectives are meant to be paired with another in just this fashion. Their unspoken reward for serving justice to the sectors.
Jeb pegs his hands on his hips, furiously trying to work through an alternate future. One where they leave, and though Cyrn is the one, Jeb might be sufficient. After all, where is the precedence for such a thing?
Jeb begins to pace in the space, now greatly cramped with three males of size and tense disposition.
Beth seems to sense Cyrn's low regard for her and lowers her chin. “It is nothing. My call to be Reflective is at an end.”
The male makes a triumphant noise in the back of his throat. “Not so noble after all, female.”
Slade scowls. “Beth is a noble female.”
Jeb frowns when he notes the fine tremble of Slade's hand as he wipes sweat off his forehead.
Beth puts her face in her hands.
Slade's scowl deepens. “You do not know this female.”
Cyrn plants his legs wide and tilts his chin up, lasering a stare that would incinerate most directly at the Bloodling. “I know enough.”
Natasha walks over to where Beth stands and pats her on the shoulder. “I will attend you when we bathe and you get another night's rest. It was too much to wake up out of recuperative rest, receive me, then the males have come all at once.” Ulric's mate lifts a shoulder. “It would be too much for anyone.”
Cyrn snorts, and Natasha gifts him with a glare.
He meets her look head-on. “I will take her to the hot springs. No female will ever go alone again.” He folds his arms, and his return stare dares her to counter his statement.
An image of a naked Beth floats to the surface of Jeb's brain with Cyrn only a few meters away. His reply is swift and simple. “No.”
Cyrn's eyes slim on Jeb.
Slade lifts a palm. “I will carry the females to the ground. I am Bloodling. I can accompany them.”
Jeb swipes a palm over his face. Bad to worse.
Cyrn turns to face Slade, and Jeb sees a vague, almost shadowy resemblance between them. He shakes his head, and the resemblance is gone.
“I am responsible for Natasha.” He jerks a thumb at Beth. “And her as well.”
Jeb notes he doesn't look happy about it.
Beth's chin stays tucked.
Jeb remembers how it feels to know she is his perfect other half. To feel lust and love intermingled seamlessly and not have those feelings reciprocated.
Until now.
But what if Beth had hated him regardless of his feelings for her? Just as Cyrn appears to dislike her? Where would that leave Jeb?
Bereft.
“Natasha,” Cyrn calls to her, and she walks toward him. Cyrn’s attention returns to him and Slade. “You are free to roam our clan now that Ulric does not see either of you as a threat. But you”—he points a finger at Slade—“will not touch the mate of my alpha.”
He looks Jeb square in the eye with his troubling gaze of twin burning suns. “And I am responsible for this female”—he jerks his chin in Beth's direction—“until she leaves us.”
Beth flinches when he says “female,” but she doesn't comment.
She could take any number of barbed insults. She has, Jeb knows. But now that her soul mate has been revealed, it's entirely different.
Her utter silence is noteworthy. The quiet has the feeling of an eye within the storm.
Slade looks to Jeb, and Jeb can only exhale his frustration. He'll get Beth out of here. He's thankful she's eaten—he'd been quite vocal about it—since they had not let him see her until he insisted.
They move to the platform, and Cyrn suddenly pivots, hitting Jeb in the jaw. Jeb falls on his ass in an ungraceful pile of limbs. “That's for hitting me.”
Jeb rises slowly, feeling ashamed he didn't see the blow coming, and gingerly moves his jaw side to side.
This is her other soul mate?
Beth comes to stand before Cyrn, her chin held high. “Do not hit my partner, First Species scum.”
Jeb knows what that comment cost her. The fullness of the lie hits him as he readies himself. That storm analogy might just come to fruition.
“What will you do, worthless female?” Cyrn goads.
“This,” Beth says in classic decoy, raising her hand, and predictably, Cyrn catches that tiny wrist.
Her other hand reaches for his crotch and twists hard between his legs.
Cyrn drops her hand and lands hard on his knees, howling then choking on pain Jeb is well aware of.
Beth leaps over his writhing form and up to the rail. Jeb and Slade join her.
Neither comment on the tears draining from her eyes.
Jeb knows he could never hurt her as she just did Cyrn. Even to save her.
As she just saved Cyrn, though he'll never know it.
“Wait!” Natasha screams, but they don't. Slade has Beth curled against his body, and Jeb allows it.
He can sense Slade's protection of her as he leaps after them, grabbing another tether.
Jeb's nostrils flare.
And beneath that, his sickness.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Beth
It brings Beth a level of physical pain to have inflicted an injury against her soul mate.
That and the fact that he hates her make Beth feel as if her rib cage has been torn open to reveal her slain and barely beating heart.
Slade's strong arms tighten around her as they fall to the next tether.
Beth twirls and falls, spins and leaps. Not by herself but held in the arms of a Bloodling from Sector One.
Jeb is close behind, doing the same but not with the same expert grace. He is not a Man of the Tree—First Species—or Bloodling. He is Reflective and learning to follow like the quick study he is.
Her tears leak like an undammed stream as her gaze meets Jeb's.
He swings closely behind her as she clings to Slade's thick neck.
Jeb gives a slight shake of his head, conveying much with the gesture.
Do not worry.
Things will right themselves.
And the last idea she believes Jeb communicates—I am here.
Beth stifles a sob, dipping her forehead against Slade.
She has never had the aching need of another as she has for Jeb Merrick, and Beth now has a degree of sympathy for the last few months that he's had to pine for her—and she was oblivious.
No longer.
The feeling of her guts being torn out because Cyrn has been cruelly chosen by fate—Principle ordained—steals her breath.
What will I do? It can't be possible she's drawn to them both. Beth must seek the face of The Cause.
If only she can immerse herself, can ignore the growing awareness of this male. Cyrn.
Gorilla shapeshifting vampire, Beth vaguely identifies.
