at her size.
Beth leans against the couch, crossing her feet at the ankles.
“Kicking your ass gave me an appetite.” Beth's lips peel back off her teeth.
Gunnar grins, regarding her. He tosses his blade by the hilt, expertly catching it on the downward rotation, like a juggler of weapons.
She has so many questions. They crowd, polluting her mind of sane and rational thinking. He's her father, and that is mind-blowing. But he is also a dangerous Bloodling who she doesn't know. The two sides don't reconcile themselves easily.
Beth blinks, her belly full. Her heavy-lidded gaze rotates to Slade, taking in his phony Reflection façade.
“You got the eyes wrong,” Beth says, swinging a finger in his direction.
Slade lids dip over eyes so dark a gray they could never fall within Reflective norms. He’s still masquerading as a Reflective, which is hilarious. His appearance is more like a Reflective costume than a proper likeness. He frowns.
Beth yawns, and Gunnar's eyebrow hikes at her show of fatigue.
“Stay where you are, Dad,” she says sarcastically as her gaze moves from Slade.
Gunnar seemed farther away the last time she looked.
Beth hiccups and slaps a hand over her mouth. Then she giggles. What the hades is wrong with me?
“You're too big, too,” she levels her gaze on Slade.
His eyes move to black.
“Your costume is slipping,” Beth says, giggling again. Her vision triples.
Beth jerks upright. Slade is suddenly beside her on the couch. Her fingers move to jab him in throat, a classic close-quarters defensive move.
He easily captures her sluggish strike and puts an arm around her shoulders. “Careful, tiny frog, don't bite the hand that feeds you.”
Beth struggles to open her eyes. “Didn't feed me—I fed you.” She can't stop her head from lulling onto Slade's broad shoulder.
She blinks open her eyes, feeling as if she needs toothpicks to keep them open.
Butterflies swarm above her as though warning Beth.
Gunnar moves close, and Beth mewls thickly, her body seizing into a paralytic state. “Stop—what…” Beth licks her lips. “What did you do to my food?”
Gunnar smiles. “Nothing to your food, Beth.”
Sampson swirls down, and it appears Gunnar might hurt her treasured companion.
Beth grabs the only part of him she can reach—his weapons belt—and yanks the tether.
His pants fall with it. When Gunnar moves to scoop up his fallen article of clothing, Beth surges forward.
No one hurts papiliones.
With one hand on his pants, Gunnar catches Beth as she pitches forward.
Slade does too.
Jeb appears in front of her like a mirage.
Beth only has time to register his eyes moving over two Bloodlings, one with his pants at his ankles, both with their hands on her.
“Jeb—” Beth says with weak surprise then begins to crumple between the Bloodlings.
His roar follows her down into the darkness of unconsciousness.
*
Jeb
Jeb jogs out of the jump and into the unkempt front grounds of Beth's domicile.
Calvin lands behind him, smoothly averting a collision then circles back around to where Jeb stands.
“Positioning,” Jeb announces with quiet menace.
Calvin nods, moving to Jeb's left. They creep toward her front door, where Jeb notes its lock.
Jeb plucks a duplicate key Beth gave him when they left that morning in case they were separated.
Only her unique thumbprint will work at the pulse security dock, so he must use a physical device.
Jeb remembers his uncharitable thoughts of how inane that was. When would he allow himself to not stand as protector over Beth?
His lips flatten as he pulls his ceramic switchblade.
The weapon is strictly forbidden on Ten, but Jeb acquired the black-market blade on Three.
Jeb stands at the door, placing his palm flat against the smooth, ancient wood, and regulates his breathing. He forces his mind blank and sends out that instinctive search mechanism all Reflectives have for their soul mates. He never thought he would need to employ it on his own sector, or to find a fellow Reflective.
The tendrils of clinging energy weave away from his torso, lacy vines of heat seeking Beth.
When he finds her, those appendages sing back to him.
His eyes pop open, and Calvin marvels at him. “It's true then? The soul mate legends.”
Jeb nods. “So terribly true.”
“But Beth Jasper.” Calvin shakes his head.
Jeb wastes an unhappy look on his friend and fellow Reflective.
“Okay.” Calvin swings his palms up inoffensively. “Apologies.”
Jeb clenches his jaw and passes through the door, palming the flat pulse key inside his uniform pocket. They take the stairs, with Jeb gliding along the ornate handrail, Calvin opposite him.
When they reach the door marked2, Jeb gives the barest nod to Calvin.
Jeb keeps his weapon