The reflective dissent, p.14
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The Reflective Dissent, page 14

 

The Reflective Dissent
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He does not let on this subtle change of heart.

  Beth's fingers curl around his arm, and he stares at them. Birdlike and slim, these are the digits that injured him.

  She grips his arm. Cyrn watches her walk those fingers up to the neckline of his tunic. She clenches it.

  “He,” she breathes, swallowing hard.

  At that moment, her partner rolls over so his face is toward the sky rather than smashed into the netting.

  Jeb Merrick shouts, and the one word is enough to cause the First Species to spread wide and far.

  “Traitor!”

  Cyrn whirls too late as Ryan's hand buries in the female's hair. Fisting it tightly, Ryan pulls, jumping simultaneously.

  A ribbon of iridescence slices the air, whipping particles of sparkling matter like a breakwater of floating dust motes.

  Cyrn leaps forward, his arms swinging wildly through the tail of that glittering swath.

  Merrick's hands rip the netting, and he falls through the tear face-first. Using only his hands to brace his fall, he lands hard, knocking the wind out of himself.

  “Cyrn!” Ulric roars. “What is this?”

  “The Reflective—he's taken the female.”

  Ulric sights Natasha again, ascertaining her well-being, and nods. “I gave him permission. He said she and the male were wanted for crimes against the government of their world.”

  Cyrn's desperate eyes seek Beth. She's vanished.

  The male she is terrified of has her. And Beth can move only her hands—use her voice. She is helpless.

  Merrick rolls over, groaning. “Can't let him take her,” he wheezes, struggling through the relentless effects of the drug.

  “Proof is not something I need. We rescued the female, and my Beta saw to her needs, giving her his essence. We need do no more,” Ulric says reasonably.

  “Follow her.”

  Merrick's eyes meet Cyrn.

  “Will I die as the Bloodling?”

  “I don't know. But if she is in Ryan's care for much longer, she will wish for death.”

  Cyrn's body tightens. He should have listened to his instincts. Maybe the words she attempted to utter were not for him but for Ryan.

  Murderer.

  Maybe he is the murderer. Or part of this so-called Reflective Dissent. Perhaps she was fleeing him and not the male who lies on the forest floor, regaining the feeling they robbed from him.

  Perhaps they've misunderstood everything from the beginning.

  Shame floods Cyrn. He did not listen to anything the female said. Assuming too much and ascertaining too little.

  Now she is gone.

  “How?” Cyrn asks, his long fingers moving into tight fists and staring at the male Reflective.

  Ulric steps in front of him. “Are you considering interfering with their business when we have more than we can cope with here, in our own clan?”

  Cyrn feels his Alpha's power wash over him, attempting to soothe his raw nerves.

  Nothing works. His guts roil.

  Cyrn is unmated. Beth Jasper is a foreign female who tried to take her own life. She attacked him. He reminds himself of all the points of why he should not interfere—care.

  Beth moves him. Profoundly. He can't deny that. “The female is in danger.”

  “Cyrn,” Ulric begins, sweeping his hand toward Merrick, “let the traveler—jumper, whatever they call themselves—deal with their own issues. We did our part.”

  Yes, they saved the Reflective female. True. But now she is gone, and the male who supposedly needed to be returned to their world writhes at their feet—forgotten.

  “Ulric,” Natasha calls from the platform.

  His Alpha swiftly moves to the edge. “Come.”

  Natasha walks to the edge, her toes overhanging. Jumps.

  Merrick's eyes widen as Ulric catches his mate with ease. First Species live in trees, and their limbs are aptly suited to maneuver all kinds of physical challenges.

  And Cyrn's arms ache for the small female. But only to protect her, Cyrn tells himself. Once he is assured of her protection, he will release her.

  “Time is wasting. Ryan could be doing anything,” the Reflective says from the ground, though he attempts to stand.

  Cyrn stares at the male. “How did he jump out of here?”

  “We removed anything mirrored once we understood your capabilities.”

  Merrick stands. Falls. Tries again. Cyrn's exhale is impatient, and he strides to the shorter man and hauls him to his feet. They twist beneath him, and he begins to go down again.

  Natasha is set on her feet, and she comes to them. “How long will this stillness last?”

  She lifts a shoulder, her darkly kinked hair sliding over it. “Remember what Jim said?”

  Cyrn did not, or he wouldn't be asking.

  “That it depended on metabolism and race—gender—many factors,” Ulric begins slowly.

  Jim was a traveler from a world of thieves and debauchery. He had been a brave male to return to such a place. He had also left behind an assortment of useful items. The stillness drug was one. He had instructed them that if killing wasn't desired but incapacitation was—this was the trick. His words still rang in Cyrn's brain.

  “The jumper—Reflective—he is worthless.” Cyrn stares at Merrick.

  “No,” Merrick answers, his grip surprisingly strong at Cyrn's shoulder. “I can jump you in his tail, but you will have to help Beth. I am still too weak from this injection.”

  “She will kick my nuts in again.” Cyrn feels the ghost of a smile form.

  Merrick looks up at him, licking his parched lips. “I think she grabbed them.” A faint smile creases his mouth, but his pale gray eyes have darkened with worry.

  “This Reflective”—he swallows, coughs, continues—“he will hurt Beth first—then he will destroy our world.”

  Cyrn's brows meet, and a low growl breaks the seal of his lips.

  Ulric touches his shoulder. “I cannot leave—this is you, Cyrn, and what you do next goes far beyond what even I would ask of you.”

  Cyrn nods and hauls the Reflective against him easily.

  “What do you need?” Cyrn asks abruptly.

  “Blade,” Merrick gasps.

  Ulric unsheathes a shining blade. Because dawn is so near, vague light seeks the metal, and a dull reflection sinks into the surface.

  Cyrn sees very well at night, as most of the First Species cannot go out during daylight unless they are in full gorillan form. Gold and gray eyes pair on the dull surface.

  Actually, Cyrn can make out only smears of color from their irises—no detail appears at all to his sight.

  The Reflective takes a deep inhale. Releases.

  Without warning, heat bursts from Cyrn's middle torso. Flames and ice bite down upon his arms and legs, bursting into a teeth-clenching sensation of being burned alive while simultaneously chilled to the bone.

  The vision of Ulric before him narrows, and with an audible pop, he disappears. Cyrn twirls with the male Reflective, falling and spinning in a nauseating whirlpool sensation.

  Whatever the magic is that allows the travel releases them, and Cyrn holds the Reflective tightly, reflexively throwing his arm out for a tether.

  Finding none.

  Cyrn tumbles in a free fall through trees. Branches tear at his sides, and with only one arm available, he grabs what he can.

  A large branch slaps his ribs, breaking one. He grits his teeth and hits the branch with his arm.

  The Reflective begins to slip, and with a shout of pain, Cyrn wraps his arm around the branch.

  They bounce against the tree, and Cyrn's arm comes out of its socket.

  Merrick and he swing on the branch, and Cyrn's pain is so great he doesn't waste breath with words.

  The Reflective blinks, and they're suddenly sitting on the branch that broke Cyrn's rib and tore his shoulder out. Cyrn grabs the trunk with his good arm and locks his ankles around Merrick's torso.

  “How,” Cyrn gasps around the agony.

  “Reflected us here.”

  Cyrn's eyes move up to where Jeb's gaze moves and see a mirror embedded in the tree above their heads.

  “Ryan dropped it. Had to. It's how they got out of Thirteen.”

  Cyrn frowns.

  “Your world.”

  Merrick stands, and Cyrn tenses. This is where the Reflective will kick him off the branch, and he will be helpless to do anything but die from the fall. There are no tethers wherever they've jumped to.

  Instead he disappears and reappears within seconds.

  With the small mirror in hand.

  “We can go anywhere now.”

  “Do you still need me, Reflective?” Cyrn hates being at his mercy.

  “No.”

  Then he grins, as though he knew exactly what Cyrn's thought process was. “Beth does.”

  Cyrn does not scream when the Reflective sets the joint of his arm.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Beth

  Ryan dumps her on a cot, and Beth bounces, throwing out a hand to steady herself.

  She's partially set to rights, being able to move her arms and legs, but bits and pieces remain numb.

  He looms above her, his hands on his hips. Ryan's face holds a neutral expression that gradually turns into a grin.

  “Looks like we're in Sector Seven, Jasper.”

  Beth blinks. She has jumped there, and though it's similar to Three in many respects, there are different factions in the works on this sector.

  Fae. Vampire. Shifters.

  Blood Singers.

  “Why?” Beth asks in a hoarse croak. She clears her throat and tries again.

  Ryan waffles his hand around. “Seemed like a good detour for Merrick to get lost in.”

  Oh no.

  Beth attempts to sit up, and Ryan uses two fingers to press her flat against the cot.

  Her heart rate trips, stuttering in fear. At any moment, Ryan will go ballistic, and she'll be at his mercy. The drug has made her powerless.

  “Merrick has no Reflections,” Beth tries.

  He glares at her, and she shrinks away, his fingers digging into her sternum. “He'll find something. He's Reflective, if you've forgotten.”

  The fingers he uses begin to bruise.

  Beth fights for air.

  Suddenly, Ryan lifts his fingers.

  She gasps, sucking in precious lungfuls of air.

  Ryan walks across the dimly lit cabin, back to Beth, as he gazes out the filthy glass. “We wait here.”

  Beth manages to sit upright, and he whirls. “Don't try anything, Jasper, or I'll make everything I do to you go slow.”

  They stare at each other.

  Beth's breaths come easier, and only one numb spot remains. “What are your plans?”

  What she really wants to ask is why he hasn't killed her. Papilio is gradually being set to rights. Reflective Lance Ryan's on the run. Having her won't change that there's nowhere to go that he won't be pursued.

  “I've made a deal with the devil.”

  A common Three expression, Beth thinks. But one that doesn't make sense in this context.

  Why has Reflective Ryan jumped them to Sector Seven? Why are they inside a derelict cabin in the middle of nowhere?

  His hands-off approach makes her very nervous. By this time, he'd be beating her.

  And rape would follow. That's all that Ryan is capable of.

  Yet he doesn't do those things.

  He waits.

  For whom?

  “What are you saying? Because—you know there's no place you can hide. One hundred Reflective warriors have been returned to Papilio and will not rest until you've been brought to justice. Our females are being located—Papilio and the quadrants are being restored. You've lost, Ryan.”

  Beth tilts her chin up, and Ryan studies her face as though memorizing it. “I want to chew you up and spit you out, mongrel.”

  His eyes travel her form, and as filthy, haggard, and worn as she is—Ryan looks at her as if she’s a juicy morsel.

  “However, I'll restrain myself. If I am patient, and I will be, I can have everything I want. Madeline DeVere will be my mate.” He fists his hand, pumping it along his hip in a vaguely lewd gesture. “You will be my whore.”

  “I will never be anything to you,” Beth corrects him in a low voice.

  He smiles, and his beautiful sea-blue eyes sparkle. And again, Beth is struck with how evil can wear such a handsome face.

  “But first,” he says, ignoring her words, “I will sell you to the highest bidder. Actually”—his grin stretches wider across his face—“I already have.”

  The air trembles around them, the vibration at once alarming and utterly familiar.

  With an audible crackle, two images appear, and a jumping ribbon disturbs the dust in the air between Beth and Ryan and the wavering forms become solid.

  Her beaten father and Maddie—a blade to her throat—appear, and Gunnar's eyes widen at the sight of her on the cot.

  Next to him are three hyena nightlopers.

  Beth stands and subtly drops what was in her hand. Jacky's words come back to her.

  Trail of bread crumbs. Jeb will need this if he comes after her.

  And if he feels for Beth even a minuscule amount of what she feels for him, he will.

  Jeb Merrick will seek her.

  “As I said, here she is.” Ryan sweeps his palm toward Beth. “But I want what we bargained for.” His brows come together, and he slides a locator out of his pocket.

  Beth dies to see even a dot of reflection, but Ryan palms the entirety of the sphere.

  Her shoulders slump.

  The nightloper turns his slanted eyes toward Ryan. “If there is anything left.” His voice is between a yip and a growl, and gooseflesh creeps over Beth.

  Gunnar growls through his split lip, risking a glance at Beth.

  Their eyes lock. His ebony gaze is desperate. Beth is sure hers looks the same.

  Ryan lifts his head, his expression subtly mocking. “If you want her to produce, you'll have to keep her healthy.”

  The half-formed hyena looks at Beth, and his amber eyes, not unlike Cyrn's but cold as ice, stare her down.

  His intent is as clear as if he'd spoken it.

  Beth's body chills from his expression.

  All of what she is, what Slade had told her, comes back to her.

  The nightlopers have sheer numbers. They were, in comparison, mindless predators and, thankfully, without any jumping ability of their own.

  Unless they were to get their hands on a female Reflective. Which, thus far, has not been possible. Before Ryan's revolt and uprising of the dissenters, the female Reflectives had been heavily guarded. Except for Beth.

  She had been a soldier.

  The nightloper tosses Maddie toward Ryan, who catches her easily. Maddie screams for Gunnar, and he roars.

  Ryan flashes to Beth, tossing her to Gunnar, who reflexively catches her.

  The ceramic blade abrades the healing scar at her throat as the hyena's foul breath bathes her face.

  Ryan strokes Maddie's hair, and she whimpers in fear. Her wide, beautiful violet-blue eyes implore Gunnar, and Beth can sense how sick he is not to protect her.

  “Take the Bloodling and the female back to One. I'll be in touch—after I get acquainted with my new bride—and correct what's been done to my home world.”

  The nightlopers whistle an ascending note.

  Gunnar jumps them. What can he do when a blade is to his daughter's throat?

  A reflection has never felt so wrong.

  *

  Jeb hurries, jogging fast through the brush after Cyrn.

  They don't have time for testosterone, hysterics, or drama. Jeb and Slade had not gotten along, and now he is dead.

  Cyrn is very different, having shown Beth not a shred of deference, aside from feeding her his blood under command from Ulric.

  Now Reflective Ryan has her, and questions plague Jeb as to why.

  He should kill Beth. Ryan is being actively hunted. There isn't a safe sector to jump to where he will not be sought.

  Except this one.

  Sector Seven has its issues but none that require Reflective interference—yet. That Ryan has chosen to jump here is savvy. He came to the sector Reflectives don't normally man and where they would not think to seek him.

  Does he hope to hide here? And if so, why take Beth? He could have killed her outright and been done with them. He hadn't even tried for Jeb—though with the serum, they'd been easy pickings. Ryan could have murdered them both and fled before the First Species could have retaliated. Even if they wanted to. Ulric had been forthcoming about their aversion with trifling in the affairs of outsiders. If it wasn't an issue for his clan, they stayed out of it.

  The only reason they'd seen to Beth was because she was female. Ulric told Jeb a male would have been left to die—or worse, suffer the Fragment's devices.

  Cyrn leaps from tree branch to tree branch easily. Jeb is amazed he can gauge the readiness of the branches for his weight. Somehow, he does.

  The male suddenly drops only three meters from Jeb and turns. He jerks his jaw at a remote, dilapidated cabin that sits on a knoll inside a small clearing.

  “I scent them both.”

  Jeb could sense Beth but not Ryan. The soul bond has to be the reason. And now that she was linked to Jeb, she could likewise sense him.

  Jeb's eyes move to Cyrn. And the First Species. Who remains blissfully unaware of his role.

  That he would feel any obligation to help Beth is a mystery to Jeb. Now that the jump has healed Jeb of his injuries—but still the disquieting numbness remained in some parts of his body—he didn't expressly need the hulking male.

  But if he wanted to sacrifice himself so Jeb could get Beth to safety? That was fine by him. Doubly fine, considering the big male was the other part of her soul mate equation.

  Just as they creep up the hill, Jeb feels the telltale heat of precipitating a jump.

  He breaks into a sprint and throws open a small wooden door hanging on by only one latch.

  Beth's essence is everywhere. Jeb can't lock in on it.

  There are two tailwinds.

  Cyrn crashes through the doorway, scraping the door's bottom so hard against the floor that it splits the wood.

  “Where?” he shouts.

 
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