The Reflective Dissent, page 13




Beth grits her teeth as Slade lands on a platform barely above the ground, hard.
He rolls them to his side in a clumsy toss, and she falls away from him.
Jeb's landing is better, and he hops once, then runs to a stop at the edge of the six-by-six-meter square of the battered wood launching and landing platform.
Beth turns to Slade, who continues to lie where he landed.
“Are you hurt, Tiny Frog?”
She stares at Slade, witnessing a horrible transformation. “No,” she croaks, ignoring his tender nickname.
Beth crawls over to Slade. “What's this?” But Beth thinks she knows.
She and Jeb exchange a full glance.
Internal bleeding and what the Threes might call cancer—a now extinct disease in Papilio—appear to have taken over Slade's body. Open boils sprout with consistent patterns over skin that was a pearl gray just hours ago and now looks as though it has a green undertone beneath the sores of disease.
“What has happened?” Beth asks frantically.
“It's advancing,” Jeb replies, and Beth looks up from her perch above Slade. “What?” She hopes his answer will not be what she fears.
“He can't travel, Beth. Jump.”
Her eyes return to Slade, the giant Bloodling laid low. A sight she thought never to see. “Did you know?” she whispers.
Slade nods. “I suspected I was sicker than most. That the hopping was killing me.”
“Why didn't you stay in One? Let Jeb go without you.” More tears burn her eyes, dropping on Slade's leather tunic and leaving damp spots of sadness.
Only his eyes are bright—alive. The slick obsidian fire burns as always. “Because what I wanted was right here.” Slade cups her face. Coughs. The inky blood inherent of his race splatters his chest.
“Slade!” Beth cries, gripping the stiff leather of his borrowed clothing.
“No, Tiny Frog. Do not mourn me. Your father awaits you in One. Jacky and Madeline as well.” His eyes find Jeb's over her shoulder. “Jeb will care for you.” That black gaze sweeps her face, lingering over her lips. “He is the one, yes?”
She reluctantly nods. “And Cyrn,” Beth says, barely above a whisper.
Slade closes his eyes, and Beth is sure he's gone, but when he opens them, his life blazes within. “Come close, Beth Jasper.”
Beth plants her palms on either side of Slade's head and bends over his large body, her chest hovering over his.
“Cyrn will love you, Tiny Frog.”
Beth vigorously shakes her head, denying his words—his imminent death.
She just squeezed Cyrn's testicles to make sure he never loved her. To save the male destiny chose for her from what he does not want. To make her even more unforgivable. A female who takes her own life and hurts a male in his most tender of places will be hated.
Slade reaches his finger up and strokes her chin. “Many times, a male will resist what he wants most.”
Beth stills, thinking on his words, while Jeb stands silently behind them. Slade had resisted her only to woo her later. Now he lies dying.
Because of her.
“Maybe there is something that could be done,” Jeb says quietly from behind Beth.
Slade's gaze moves to Jeb. “Do you really think there is anything, hopper?”
Jeb sinks to his haunches, silent for a heartbeat, then answers, “No.”
Slade nods. “In my bones, I knew there was not a way.”
“Don't leave, Slade.” Beth's breath hitches. Slade might have desired her, and she did not hold the same feelings, but he'd been her friend. Slade respected her.
“I cannot have you, Tiny Frog. Your timepiece has chosen another.” He touches her breastbone with his chilled fingers, and Beth grabs his hand out of the air and presses the cool flesh against her cheek.
“I am sorry, Slade,” Beth says, tears running between their laced fingers.
“No, do not be. My life has been better for your inclusion in it.”
A great thump causes her and Merrick to turn.
Cyrn has arrived on the opposite side of the platform with Natasha. He has thunder in his eyes—directed at Beth.
“Jeb,” Beth says, knowing she might have to fight her soul mate—male or not.
“Stay there, Beth.”
Jeb rises slowly, squaring off with Cyrn.
No!
Beth spins around to reassure Slade—she'll protect him while he's vulnerable. Beth will not leave him while he lies dying.
And he is gone.
Grief swamps Beth's insides like sick flowing lava.
And rage.
Anger that Principle chose this prime species male—one that has only hate for her. That Slade's been taken because he did the very thing she was born to do.
That Jeb has to help her against Cyrn because two have been ordained rather than one.
She can't bear to lose Jeb.
Or Cyrn.
Beth carefully folds the dead Bloodling’s hands over his body, thinking briefly that no one had been able to beat Slade while he was alive. Not Ryan, not his own people—no nightloper.
But reflecting did. The jumps killed him. Too many in too quick a succession. Seeing her safe had been more important than his life.
Slade was braver than she'd known.
Beth turns and faces Cyrn. He carefully sets Natasha on her feet. His silent perusal of her and Jeb gets Beth's blood pumping.
Not with excitement but fear.
He'll kill her now for how she injured him. And Jeb too. After all, he is not bound to her as she is to him.
Beth will sacrifice herself. If Cyrn kills her first, Jeb is released from his soul bond, and so is she.
With Cyrn.
The heartbeat's decision thumps, then Beth launches herself at Cyrn, dagger raised.
His smile should give her pause, but as he raises a slim pipe to his mouth, Beth’s eyes seek reflection automatically—finding nothing.
Cyrn's cheeks go concave then suddenly puff out as he blows through the narrow tube.
A slender needle bursts from the tip, flying through the air without sheen, and pierces Beth's throat. She gurgles a cry, landing at his feet instead of on his body as planned.
Jeb hurtles toward them as Beth loses feeling in her limbs, numbness climbing to her shoulders and flooding over her chest. “What?” she gasps and chokes. She desperately wants to extract the needle sticking out of her throat. But no matter how much she commands her mind to pluck it out with her fingers, the creeping lack of feeling disallows it.
“Excellent suggestion, Natasha,” Cyrn comments.
Beth cannot even blink, and strangled tears crawl out of her eyes.
Jeb lands beside her, his head hitting the platform and bouncing up once. His light gray eyes find hers.
Jeb's fingers creep across the platform, seeking hers.
Beth cannot move—speak. She has only her eyes to convey her feelings.
He is able to reach the pant leg of her torn and grimy uniform. Beth breathes in and out, in and out. Even that is a struggle. The serum must effect circulatory differently than muscle mass, or even now she'd be strangling on her own breaths.
Cyrn watches her dispassionately.
Oh Principle. Beth tries to explain about Slade—about the soul mate situation, her lips open, but no sound comes out. The paralysis appears to stop at voice box height.
A shout reaches them, and Cyrn steps over her body with precise deliberation.
Natasha kneels. “I am not sure what possessed you to hurt Cyrn—after a blood share.” She rolls her eyes. “This drug will keep you still and allow rest for the next day and night and for you to be fully restored from your injuries. I will see you are bathed.” Natasha gives Beth a large, genuine smile.
Beth rolls her terrified eyes toward Jeb's.
His gaze is just as frantic. She knows how he feels exactly. Neither can protect the other.
Beth strains, hearing a voice.
It's familiar, though still distant.
After much back and forth conversation, a new presence is revealed on the platform. Beth knows the gait of those boots.
The small hairs at her nape lift.
Could any bit of fate be so cruel?
“This is her.” Cyrn jerks a thumb in Beth's direction. “Glad to be rid of her. Cowardly and violent. It is good she goes to her own world.”
Beth's eyes swing up in her head, and Ryan smiles at her, upside down. She makes frantic sounds, but they sound like smothered chuckles.
“What is wrong with her?” Ryan asks Cyrn, frowning.
He lifts a shoulder. “We shot her with the stillness dart.”
Ryan lifts a perfect blond brow.
Gooseflesh spreads over Beth's exposed skin, and Natasha raises an eyebrow, inspecting her closely. “Is something wrong, Beth?”
Yes! A corrupt Reflective that wishes Jeb and me dead is here—in our very presence.
Natasha cannot hear her internal scream for help.
Beth is gnawed with regret that she didn't take Ryan's life when it was offered. For the very first time, Beth damns The Cause.
“You are fortunate Ulric's guards recognized you as a Reflective like these two. Otherwise, you might have met up with one of us who do not think too highly of your kind.” Cyrn gives Ryan hard eyes.
Ryan smiles disarmingly. “I apologize. This is your first introduction to Reflectives, and it's been a poor one. Both Merrick and Jasper are part of what has been named a Reflective Dissent and are wanted by the lawmen of our world.”
Beth dies inside, her face heating with frustration.
“I don't know, Cyrn. Beth seems like she's trying to say something.” Natasha frowns, appearing disquieted by Beth's every attempt to articulate their circumstance.
Ryan's smile is sly in response.
Beth begs Natasha with her eyes.
Jeb actually manages to lift a finger. His eyes are narrow slits of hate on Ryan.
Ryan presses his boot atop Jeb's hand, squashing his finger. “They are probably alarmed at me finally catching up with them. Criminals always are.”
Cyrn looks from Beth to Jeb and finally to Ryan.
Beth's love for him swells, and the overpowering impulse to crawl to Cyrn and declare her feelings seizes her. Yet the serum keeps her immobile. The irony is painful.
“What of the Bloodling?” Ryan asks suddenly.
“We do not know. After the female nearly twisted my nuts from my body”—he gives Beth a dark look—“I was forced to recuperate, then I found them here and the Bloodling dead.”
Ryan grasps his chin while Beth's lips burn with the desire to talk.
He walks to where Slade's body lies, and Beth manages a choked sound at the thought of Ryan desecrating her friend.
A male who fought for her. Loved her, though she could not reciprocate.
Beth watches Ryan toe his limp form. “Jumping sickness. Seen something like this before.”
“It is unnatural.” Cyrn nods toward Ryan then casts a lingering glance at Slade's body.
Ryan's grin is angelic. “Only for those not born to jump.”
Cyrn says nothing, his brows dropping low over his beautiful gold eyes. “As you say.” He turns to Natasha. “See to the female, and I will escort her to the hot springs momentarily.”
Ryan jerks his head back, clenching his jaw. “I was hoping to take the Reflectives straight to Papilio.”
Cyrn stares at Ryan.
Please, please, please grow suspicious, Cyrn, Beth thinks. Hate me all you want, but don't let him have us.
Ryan doesn't push. Instead, he takes his foot off Jeb's hand and leans over the side of the platform. He appears to spy something of interest. Beth interprets this easily from his loathsome expression of anticipatory excitement.
She sees the tread of Ryan's boot left on Jeb's palm.
“Good, a net's in place. I wondered how we'd get the two of them down—they're not unlike the Bloodling at present.” Ryan chuckles.
Cyrn's guarded expression turns into a frown.
Ryan walks over to Jeb, and Beth's mouth falls open.
He wraps his strong hand around Jeb's forearm and drags him to the edge of the platform.
Jeb's wide eyes meet hers a nanosecond before Ryan tosses him over the edge.
Beth tries to scream, and nothing comes out.
Ryan turns, facing Beth.
“I don't like him,” Natasha whispers to Beth, her eyes distrustfully flicking to Ryan.
Beth's eyes move to hers. Help me! her gaze screams.
Natasha looks to Cyrn, who in turn shifts his gaze at Ryan.
Beth sees the fine wheels of his shrewd mind spinning. Will he connect circumstance enough to help her and Jeb?
Ryan leans over her body, and a small whimper scrapes out of her from deep inside. His evil grin spreads on his face as he clamps the same hand that just surrounded her partner around her smaller forearm, yanking her across the platform.
Beth's body helplessly spins and flops at the rough treatment, new bruises forming over the healed wounds of a day ago.
She reaches the edge and catches a quick glimpse of Jeb hung like a fly in a web below them, and her neck tenses, the small muscles the only ones she can control.
Beth's upper body is suspended above the platform, ready to be shoved into the net to land on top of Jeb, and her eyes widen painfully as her vision fills with her partner—her newly discovered soul mate.
Suddenly, a strong arm latches onto Reflective Ryan, and corded tendons like muscled rubber bands stretch taut. “You will not throw her on top of the other Reflective or hurt her in any way, traveler.”
Their eyes lock.
Beth knows that hers are wide and full of terror, and dirty tracks must mar the skin of her face from her tears.
And for only a split second, Cyrn sees her.
Sees her.
Beth's fear and desperation, her regret and apology rolled up into a silent final plea.
And in that moment, Beth sees him. More than her soul mate. The male underneath the mask.
A seed of tenderness is buried deeply within Cyrn.
For her.
Then it is gone, and she's tumbling over the edge, a silent scream entombed in her throat.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cyrn
Cyrn growls as he leaps after the female, his hand grasping onto a tether not strong enough for his size.
He swings hard, anyway—Cyrn knows he can manage the fall. Thankfully, they were on the first platform.
It's the female he's worried about.
He did not like the look in her dark brown eyes. She fears this Reflective Ryan.
And any female brave enough to attack Cyrn the way she did, and with the skill Beth employed, would not be quick to feel fear.
Ulric will be told. And the Reflective will not be given any more latitude. He pushed the female off the platform after Cyrn expressly told him not to.
First Species do not harm females. They are the life bearers.
Beth tumbles beneath him, and the tether burns his flesh as he uses it to zip down in an inelegant fall of necessity. At the last moment of the plunge, he grips the tether while grabbing the female.
The twisted vegetation snaps tight, and Cyrn tenses, sure the too-small vine will snap with the momentum and weight of their combined load.
Her helpless body folds over his arm, dangling in a limp swing of limbs.
Cyrn smiles. She is a tiny female, but while in motion, she appears like the spinning cyclones of earth that tear through the open prairies outside their clan in the trees.
Carefully, he turns her over, keeping some distance in case the stillness drug wears and she attacks him again.
Wide, deep brown eyes caress his face with a relief so profound he feels moved. Then Cyrn remembers that she held his balls in her delicately capable hands.
His lips flatten. Cyrn will not hurt her, but he will not treat her with the same respect afforded females who do not batter a male who has fed them his very essence.
Perhaps this Reflective is correct—she and Jeb Merrick are dissenters and subject to their world's laws of crime.
Beth's eyes grow wide, and she says something.
With one arm, Cyrn lowers himself in a slow spin to the ground.
Jeb Merrick faces the ground, drool pooling underneath him as the net bites into the flesh of his face and neck.
“What?” Cyrn asks quietly.
“Murderer,” Beth says, and her fingers twitch.
Cyrn feels his face scrunch; the stillness drug is already waning. “I would never harm a female. Even you.” He scowls at her.
Ryan dumps to his feet close by. And Cyrn instinctively moves Beth out of the Reflective's reach.
“Ulric will not condone your treatment of the female.” Cyrn flares his nostrils. First Speciesʼ sense of smell is extremely sensitive.
He smells the female's desolation and fear, and it burns his nostrils. Cyrn also smells this male Reflective's smug triumph.
Cyrn understands that if these two travelers—Reflectives—are truly criminals that were difficult to apprehend, then yes, there is a valid justice to having finally captured them.
But somehow, Cyrn senses something is off.
“Cyrn,” Natasha calls from above them.
Damn. In all the trouble to protect this ungrateful female, he had left his Alpha's woman on the platform.
What is it about Beth that scrambles his otherwise cool thought processes?
He doesn't have time to process it all as First Species bleed out of the woods, including Ulric. “What has happened?” His eyes sweep to the first platform and see that his mate is unharmed and well, and his shoulders lower minutely.
Cyrn does not wish to discuss everything that just transpired. Not in front of Reflective Ryan.
“Everything is as it should be, except...” Cyrn glances down at the female Reflective, Beth. Her head is tucked inside the crook of his arm. She is so small he can almost hold her entire body in one arm.
Cyrn clamps his teeth together. He does not want to let her go, regardless of her lack of will to live. Her transgression in trying to unman him. There is something indefinable that causes him to tighten his hold.