Bastard.
*
Slade's stomach is tight with anxiety as he approaches the cell holding Gunnar.
Honoring this warrior is the very worst promise Slade made at his sire’s deathbed.
Full Bloodlings are a vicious group. Descended from a race of Blood Singers and pure vampire from Sector Seven, they are a perfect mix of predator and supernatural. Some Bloodlings even retain Angel's blood from the Singers royal line.
Not Slade.
And apparently, not Gunnar.
Those with Angelic blood did not advance as warriors unless pitted against the demonic. Now, in a battle between those two species, they would be well-suited.
Slade walks with purpose through the dimly lit winding stone corridor of the guarded prison of the Bloodlings. Only half the cells are filled.
Slade takes the smallest measure of pride that under his stewardship, his people have a moral code to some degree. His jaw clenches as he thinks of the returning females, many of whom Dimitri has broken. Who's to know if they will be resilient enough to take mates who are meant to protect them?
After passing ten empty cells, Slade comes to the last.
Gunnar heaves his body up and down, nose nearly scraping the floor as his powerful arms push his stiff body away from the ground. His toes and hands are the only parts of his body touching the stone floor.
Slade stands stiffly, not sure how to begin his revelations.
“Speak!” Gunnar barks as he lowers himself.
Slade is not one to fluster easily, but this insane Bloodling fills him with anxiety.
It could be because Slade has plans to figuratively fuck his daughter. No matter how much he justifies the cause as a noble one, Slade is ashamed.
“Gunnar,” Slade begins with quiet respect.
The warrior bounces up from his prone position on the stone floor, dusting off his hands and strides to the bars.
His gray skin is so fair, it mimics the palest stone. Gunnar is intimidating, for he is the largest of Bloodling kind. Almost seven feet of hardened warrior with nothing but time to hone his body and ravage his intellect with vengeful grief makes a formidable presence.
Slade stays out of reach, his heart galloping. He knows what he must do and hates the thought of torturing this warrior further.
In this moment, Slade deeply loathes his life.
Eyes like black water regard him. Hair of a matching color is bound in a tight band not unlike Slade's. He looks so much like the masculine version of Beth, it tightens Slade's guts.
Gunnar cocks his head, nostrils flaring. “Slade, speak.”
“I must—” Slade swallows against his shame. “I must ask that you jump me to Sector Ten.”
Gunnar flinches, his hands clenching into fists. “Do not mention Ten to me again if you want to live.”
Slade nods, holding his breath.
What he does now he does for his people.
An exhale rushes out of him. “I have news.”
“News that makes your pulse race, your pupils dilate, and cold sweat form on your body, Slade?” Gunnar's voice has dropped to mercenary levels.
“Yes,” Slade answers.
Gunnar's dark eyes narrow with pure distrust, his crazed features constantly scanning for anything reflective.
He would need only the finest particle of reflective material to escape. Gunnar's talent makes the Reflectives of Sector Ten look like toddlers.
“What news?” he asks slowly. He crosses his arms, inky eyebrows jerk in disbelief.
“Your daughter,” Slade says softly.
Gunnar's face screws up in lines of hate. “I have none, fool. My mate was murdered. Do you not remember!?” he roars, sending spittle flying. The ceramic bars are poisoned, but he grabs them with his powerful hands anyway, forcing his face between the bars. His flesh begins to burn as though touching acid in reaction to the poisonous coating.
Slade sighs, pulling out a small circle of coated elastic, and brings it up between their faces.
Gunnar releases the bars with a hiss, flinging his smoking hands. “What is this?”
Slade places it between Gunnar’s two fingers.
An inky hair clings to the figure eight of the twisted material. Gunnar snatches it from between Slade's fingers.
Never looking away, he brings it to his nose and scents of it deeply.
Gunnar's face slips to rage as his fingers close around Beth's hair band.
“Where. Is. She?” he roars, grabbing the bars once more.
Slade hangs his head. “She is at Ten—Beth Jasper is a Reflective.”
Gunnar backs away from the bars and sits hard on the foldaway cot fixed against the wall.
His head droops into the palm not gripping the hair band. “As Lucinda was.”
Slade nods solemnly.
Gunnar leaps up, heading for the bars of his cell.
His mouth opens, teeth snapping. Venom from mature and lethal fangs drips, sizzling like acid as it falls.
“I want to claim my child.”
Of course he does.
That's what Dimitri's counting on to force his cooperation.
“I have been chosen to acquire her, and return her to her rightful sector.”
Gunnar’s fangs slide away, and he studies Slade. “You want me to reflect you to Ten?”
Slade nods.
Gunnar shakes his head. “Give me a drop of water, and I will seek my own blood.”
The lie comes with difficulty, made easier by the threat against the Bloodlingsʼ womankind. “Dimitri will kill her if I do not do this in secret. If you go, he will see your leaving as invitation for her death.”
He has my mother and sisters. Slade feels helpless. The nightlopers number three times as many and breed as litters. There are no better options than this terrible one.
Gunnar nods, palming the hairless skin of his jaw.
“Will you?” Slade asks, his held breath like fire.
Gunnar lifts his chin. “I shall.”
Slade walks away, taking the image of Gunnar's violence and his exploit with him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Merrick
Jeb watches Beth's joy overtake her from the simple fact that Maddie is alive.
It's no small thing that the papiliones have somehow managed to survive.
The lights attached to the huge hand-hewn wooden beams bisecting Beth's ceiling no longer glow. Electricity fueled by solar power doesn't appear to be regulated any longer.
But the butterflies don't mind the dark, and they swarm to greet their disheveled and haggard group.
An especially large butterfly swoops down as Beth reaches a finger toward its velvety wings. It lights on her fingertip and Beth croons, “There, there, Sampson. I do adore you.” Beth tilts her face, and the butterfly's wings whips softly against her cheek.
Jeb would like to revel in the reunion but more pressing things beckon.
He leaves Jacky and Maddie to embrace and sweeps the house. Something Beth didn't think to do. Her lack of awareness speaks to the shock of the last few days.
Jeb's eyes move everywhere, noting filth in the corners and half eaten food stuffs strewn around a kitchen without water.
Jacky moves to turn on a light. “Do not!” Jeb hisses and the boy's hand stalls.
“What? It's darker than pitch, Merrick.”
Jeb nods within the gloom. “Yes, so let's not announce our presence.”
“Jeb's right, Jacky,” Beth says. “However…”
I thought too soon. Jeb crosses his arms.
“I have a back-up system. We could implement the pulse code, and while the water is heating, we could find something to eat.”
Maddie's lip trembles before she swiftly tucks it inside her mouth. Dirty tracks from her tears line her face. “There is nothing to eat.”
“Damn,” Jeb says quietly.
“Not true.” Beth smiles.
Jeb takes another look around the pathetically old-fashioned abode an
d smirks. There's not a crumb to be had. He shoots her a pointed look of disbelief.
She gives a small shrug. “I have a pulse-hydrator.”
Fabulous. Jeb's mouth falls open, and Beth walks by, poking him in the gut as she passes. He catches her finger, raises her palm to his lips, and presses a soft kiss in its center.
Sampson the butterfly rises and flies to the rafter, where it perches on the glossy wood, seeming to observe them.
“Jeb,” Beth begins.
Jeb can't help it; he pulls her against him and presses her head into his chest.
Maddie's face registers her shock. “What—what've I missed?” She looks first at Jeb then Beth.
Jacky answers, “A shit ton. First, we got our asses handed to us in our world. My folks were murdered.”
Eyes round, Maddie slaps her hands over her mouth. “Oh my God, Jacky. I'm so sorry,” she whispers through her fingers.
Jacky takes her hands, tugging her to the couch. They sit down slowly, and he looks into her eyes. “It was Chuck all along, Mad. He was the one who killed Chase and made it look like a car accident.”
Maddie snatches her hands back.
Jeb and Beth loosen their hold, turning their attention to the Threes.
She shakes her head. “No—he couldn't.”
Jacky nods thoughtfully. “He totally did. Admitted it to me, killed my folks on the anniversary of Chase's death. Then he took Beth and worked her over pretty good.”
Maddie looks at Beth, and she lowers her head. Adrenaline shoots through Jeb's system at just the memory of what he saved her from—what it could have turned into.
Maddie's chin dips, and black hair slides forward to hide her face. “I'm glad he's dead.”
Jacky rolls his eyes. “Well, duh.”
Her head jerks up. She gives him a tentative smile then looks at Beth and Jeb. “But these guys. What—are they together, together?”
Beth sighs, stepping away from Jeb.
He aches from the distance, his jaw clenching. This soul mate stuff is all fine and dandy when the other half wants it, too.
Jeb's not so sure Beth does.
“Jeb has declared me his soul mate.”
Maddie glances between the two of them. “Uh—you don't make it sound like great news, Beth.”
Jeb lays his hand on Beth's nape, and just that simple contact soothes him. “When a Reflective's timepiece has disintegrated, they are free to answer the call in one of the thirteen sectors for their other half.”
“It's a big no-no for the ʻother halfʼ to be a Reflective,” Jacky inserts.
“Jacky,” Beth says sharply.
He tosses his arms in the air. “Just sayinʼ.”
Maddie giggles. “So, why is Beth the girl?”
Jeb squeezes her lightly and drops his hand away.
Beth sighs.
“We've discovered that Beth has Bloodling genetics.”
“They're a bad-ass vamp race who live in treehouses and shit.” Jacky nods.
Jeb groans. “They are more than vampire. They are a mixed colony, descended from true vampires and extraordinary humans who possess pure blood. In certain cases, they possess angelic blood.”
Maddie stares, her lips parting.
Jacky interjects, “None of those dudes were angels. Pfft—for real. I saw the fight between that clown Ryan and the big Bloodling dude. Nothing heavenly about that. Just a lot of ass-kicking.”
“Slade,” Beth whispers.
Jeb gives her a sharp look, trying to keep his anger in check. Something about Slade has her in knots, and Jeb wants to know what it is. Did he hurt her?
So help me, I will scour the earth if the Bloodling hurt a hair on her head.
“Anyways—” Jacky begins.
Jeb air slices a finger across his neck. “Enough.” Jeb meets Maddie's deep-bluish-violet eyes. “Beth's lack of pure Reflective genetics is the exact component that's allowed her to call to me.”
“So you two were working together all this time and didn't know she was your soul mate?” Maddie asks.
“The timepiece depresses the natural call,” Beth explains.
Maddie looks at Beth. “What about you?”
“My timepiece is still operational.”
Realization swarms Maddie's delicate features. “So he's digging you, and you're not feeling it?”
Jeb scrubs his head. “I'm hungry,” he says, diffusing a hard discussion.
Maddie shakes her head. “Me, too, but how is this working? What if your soul mate is different?”
Jeb releases a harsh exhale, his patience vanishing. “In theory, when her timepiece degrades, she should reciprocate.”
“Should—or will?” Maddie asks.
Jacky grins, leaning back against the couch and lacing his hands behind his head.
Jeb scowls at him but addresses Maddie's question. It's an important one. “Typically, a full-blooded Reflective will have a soul mate whose very being is linked to his own. Beth's blood is mixed and has allowed that. Pure Reflectives are not called to one another.”
Jacky claps his hands together. “So here's the thing. Beth can have someone else besides perfect Jeb and they have to fight it out.”
“You do you, Jacky,” Maddie replies sarcastically, shaking her head.
Jacky shoots a mock gun at her with his fingers. “Uh-huh, that's it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sorry about him.”
“Sorry? Look at me.” Jacky splays his fingers on his chest.
Everyone stares. Jeb's eyes hold more than amusement.
Jacky meets his gaze. “Okay. I know you're pissed. But you have to admit, when has anything not gone Jeb Merrick's way?”
Beth strolls out of their little parlay and begins to pulse open a hidden safe in the wall.
Jeb steers his attention back to the boy. “I am Reflective. If you understood what that was, you would not ask such things.”
“What I understand is you kicked everyone's asses everywhere you went, screwed all the hot Reflective chicks, and enjoyed a fat paycheck.” He shrugs.
Jeb moves quickly.
Jacky leaps over the back of the couch and it tips, beginning to upend Maddie. Jeb soars over the back, using the backward momentum like a short step and scoops up Maddie to arrest her fall.
Jeb lands like a cat over Jacky, his feet planted on either side of Jacky's hips.
“Do not test me. I have no patience left.”
“You're hurting me,” Maddie says.
Jeb startles, realizing his fingers are digging into the girl.
“Apologies.” He sets Maddie on her feet and helps Jacky up.
Jacky glares at him. “This is karma taking a chunk out of your ass. You are all soul-whatevered to Jasper, and she doesn't have the mojo on her end. So she's just seeing all the shit we all see, and she's not signing up. That's all.”
Beth walks toward Jeb, and his breath catches at the sight of her. She's holding a bowl of fresh fruit, bread, and meats.
Jeb salivates, but the sadness in Beth’s eyes robs him of hunger.
Maddie and Jacky grab the food and begin to dig in.
Jeb goes to Beth and tilts her chin up, mentally going over Jacky's unflattering tally of his traits. “Is anything they say true?”
Beth's smile is crooked. “Every bit.”
Jeb scowls and turns from her. A soul mate is the one piece of happiness in the life of a Reflective, and he's been too selfish to see it.
Beth presses her forehead between his shoulder blades, putting her arms around his waist.
He's so startled, he doesn't move or breathe. His hands cover hers.
“It's all true. You're a selfish, domineering, man-whore who controls by fear and a healthy dose of intimidation.”
Jeb's heartbeat stutters.
“You're also honorable, terrifyingly strong, and brilliant.”
Beth comes around to his front, her hands trailing along his waist. Pebbling gooseflesh presses against his clothes.
Deep eyes regard him, and a cloud of dark hair has escaped her braids. Jeb cradles her face as she lifts her face to better meet his eyes.
The sounds of the Three's eating dims. Only her face crowds his vision. Her breaths are like music to his ears, her eyes eat every bit of him until he is nothing without her.
She speaks softly, and Jeb strains to hear, “You are the male who protected me when you hated who I was.”
Jeb gives a hard choking swallow, never more close to tears than he is in this moment. “I never hated you.”
“You are the man who loves me.”
He grabs her hands. “I do.”
She searches his eyes with a reticence born of pain and distrust. “Then give me time.”
Jeb pulls her to him and Beth allows it.
He wraps his arms around her small body, feeling grateful to Principle she might be his—in a world that is no longer theirs.
CHAPTER FIVE
Slade
Slade looks out over the water, where gentle ripples coast across the only reflective material on this side of the mountains of Sector One.
They must have water, or even this would be gone because of safe measures against jumping.
Slade shields his eyes, gazing up at the double moons. The larger overshadows the smaller. Slade has heard rumors that on Sector Three, they call an orange moon a “harvest moon.”
On One, it is always the blood moon.
The bright orb indifferently regards the handful of Bloodling guards. Gunnar and Slade take in the effect of the setting sun as crimson creeps upon the great lake of One.
Slade will not be able to blend on Sector Ten, which is full to the brim with fair-complexioned papiliones. Slade's pearl-gray skin and eyes that appear pupil-less as well as his sheer mass will stand out. Bloodlings originate only on One. There is no precedent for their presence in any other sector. He'll be recognized as the alien he is before the first breath he takes on Ten.
That is why a magical camouflage has been devised. Unfortunately, veiling his true form comes at a price. He must give up his fangs and superhuman strength to assume the appearance of a papilion. He can't use what he is, or the covering of his Bloodling form will reemerge.
Slade glances behind him. Dimitri is accompanying him as insurance of a sort. After all, nightloper shifter magic rendered Slade's disguise. Slade never thought he would need anything from a brutal species who are the Bloodlingsʼ sworn enemy.
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