his conduct.
Slade likes that. “Let the crazed hoppers come.”
Jacky turns his attention to Slade—they all do.
“It will not matter. We are the species with the brains.”
“What about the night guys?” Jacky asks.
“There are more of them than us,” Slade admits neutrally.
“So they can't puzzle shit out, but there's a lot of them, and they go hard.”
Slade blinks, rapidly wading through Jacky’s strange terminology. “Yes.”
“Then it's not bad that you have some Reflectives and me here.” He jabs a thumb in his chest.
Slade's eyebrows rise. “Oh?” The young Three will grow into his manhood, but he is short and not fully muscled yet. Of course, Three males are not renowned for their physiques.
Jacky nods, ignoring Slade's slow perusal. “Yup. You see, I don't care about politics, hurting people's feelings, or taking long showers together. I want to get home. I want Maddie to come with.” His eyes meet the others’ stares. “And Merrick's got a permanent stick embedded in his ass.”
Merrick rises.
Jacky's eyes fly to him. “Chill! God, Merrick.” His gaze shifts back to Slade. “But he does the right thing.”
“He has integrity,” Maddie adds.
“Exactly,” Jacky says, giving her a smile. He laces his hands behind his head and grins across the table. “And Jasper, well, she's in a tight spot, but she's got an assload of dudes running around, trying to protect her.”
Beth's chin comes off her fist, and she opens her mouth.
Jacky rolls his eyes. “Not that she's down with that.”
She closes her mouth then opens it again. “Absolutely not. I don't need a male to protect me.”
Merrick looks at her.
Slade does, as well.
Color sweeps her cheekbones. “Usually,” she amends with barely veiled embarrassment.
“What I'm saying is, I'm a pain in the ass, but I'll get the job done. Because I'm motivated.”
“To return to that criminal planet. Three?” Gunnar confirms.
“You got it. Criminal or not, there's not a bunch of vamps and night-whatevers waiting to knock you on your ass and suck you dry.” He slaps his thighs, and Maddie jumps.
“Okay. Said my piece.” He looks down at the wilting greens.
“Got any meat in this joint?”
Slade grins. He likes the boy very much.
He'll be a perfect sacrifice if the situation presents.
And most certainly, one will.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beth
“May I speak with you?” Jeb asks, and Beth struggles to keep her relief from washing over her face. She’s pleased to have a safe place to have five seconds to communicate with Jeb in private.
But Beth worries Slade's tree houses might somehow be just another prison.
She longs for Papilio, the vineyards outside her windows, and her butterflies. Sadness beats at her insides, and a lump of unshed tears clogs her throat.
She fights her feelings, shoving them deep inside.
Jeb reaches for her arm.
Beth visualizes Slade's dark eyes gazing up at her from the forest floor as nightlopers surround him.
He was calm; Beth is not.
“Beth?” Jeb shakes her gently.
His hand circles her upper arm, and she chokes back a sob as those stuffed emotions well to the surface again.
“Don't touch me—I can't handle it, Jeb. I miss my home, our life… The Cause.”
In the semi-privacy of his small borrowed tree room he pulls her against him.
She hits his chest with her fist. “Don't,” she repeats.
Jeb murmurs reassurances into her ear, closing his massive hand around her small one. “It's okay, Beth. I'm here.”
Beth rests her forehead between the flat muscular planes of his chest. His heart beats against her temple.
“It's all right to be sad. Give yourself permission to be female, Beth. It's not a sin.”
His warm hands fall to her middle back, caressing at the same time they draw her nearer into the strength of his body.
Beth groans in defeat. The feel of Jeb's arms around her and the comfort he offers her is irresistible when she's so emotionally fragile. Beth has lived in abject loneliness for too long, with only the blessing of the Principle, her brains, and an inherent reflective ability to aid her.
Her hands are free, and it's bad.
But it feels so good. Her fingertips inch their way around Jeb's trim waist and sink into the hollow at the small of his back, mirroring his hold on her.
“Beth,” he squeezes out between clenched teeth, “I can't hold back with my soul mate. You're playing with fire.”
She tips her head back, and Jeb's pale-gray eyes have darkened threateningly. “You would hurt me?”
He gives the barest shake of his head, drawing a finger along her cheekbone, then cups the side of her face. “Never.”
“Then I have nothing to worry about. If I have