Jeb did not.
And then he is gone.
Beth finds she doesn't breathe any easier in his absence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Merrick
Jeb is an instinctual Reflective, though that doesn't really distinguish him. Many Reflectives are.
During sparring, Jeb was known for having an almost uncanny ability to anticipate an opponent's moves. To Jeb, they were broadcasting what would come next. He can see a strike, a kick, or anything in motion coming for a kilometer.
But anticipating Beth is another thing. Her next move might as well be a universe away from his comfort zone.
If The Cause wasn't still so firmly entrenched in the very fabric of his psyche, he would never leave her. But it is.
And what world will he take Beth back to? He has declared her as soul mate. However, Papilio is a disaster.
He must make a try for Rachett and restore order. Then he must see Beth safely home and possibly get an unheard-of waiver to accelerate her timepiece.
Of course, if she was aware of his internal deliberations, she would be angry. Beth Jasper is Reflective to the core.
Beth feels none of his angst while his travel companion dreams of killing him.
Jeb doesn't have to be instinctive to any degree to know that. He’s dying inside.
Dying.
When Slade was oozing tenderness all over Beth—and she was too naïve to see through his ploys—Jeb thought he might throw up, preferably on Slade.
Certainly females of both species are in short supply on One, but why Slade would set his sights on a Reflective female who is only half-Bloodling when he can have one of his own females who is a pure blood?
Even though every fiber of his being wants to tear the Bloodling apart with his bare hands, Jeb is too smart to show how much Slade's obvious affection for Beth disturbs him.
Beth is not in soul thrall—where every thought centers first on the declared and all other needs fall after that.
He's ashamed to admit the main purpose of this venture is to stabilize his world for Beth, not for the greater good of The Cause. The greater good has faded in importance, and only Beth's perceived needs loom large.
And Jeb will not fail her.
Kennet has explicit instructions to keep alert in the short time Jeb is gone. Jeb doesn't think Ryan would jump to One. But Jeb doesn't trust One or anyone in it. He will perform this task and jump them the Hades out of here.
Slade leaps to the next platform, where his bare feet hit the solid wood, waking Jeb from his thoughts.
He backs up to the edge of the platform then sprints the three-and-a-half-meter length. He launches off the edge, pumping his legs as though he's running in midair.
He lands harder than the Bloodling did and rises slowly from his crouch.
Slade's mouth twists. “Not bad, Reflective.” Slade turns and leaps to the next platform, incrementally lower than the last.
Twenty platforms later, Jeb feels as though his legs have gelled.
The final platform is six meters above ground.
Slade appears tireless.
Jeb wants to twist his head off.
The Bloodling wraps his large hands around a vine, and hugging it with his muscled body, he effortlessly slides down, arresting the speed of his descent with rhythmic tightening of his hands every half-meter.
Jeb copies his technique but falls hard on his ass at the final meter.
Slade laughs.
Jeb stands, clamping his teeth together. His legs ache, and his arms are burning from grabbing the rope of vine. His skin wears his inexperience in the raw abrasive mess of his palms.
He takes a few deep calming breaths as Slade’s sarcasm pushes at him without reprieve.
Prick.
The sun is glaring, and Slade moves into the shade.
“Self-preservation, Bloodling?” Jeb asks snidely, happy at any show of the Bloodling’s weakness.
Slade's eyes narrow. “One part of my ancestry is vampire, as you're aware, Jeb Merrick. Fondness for the sunlight does not come naturally, no matter the path of evolution.”
“Yet you can tolerate it?”
“For the most part.”
“What does that mean?”
Slade puts his hands on his hips. “Why does it matter?”
“It matters if you're going to suddenly be useless because I don't know what your limitations are.”
They stare at each other for a full minute, neither budging.
“Bloodlings generally cannot tolerate sunlight for more than eight hours at a time. We are at full strength only at night.”
Principle. “Splendid. Why didn't you convey these things beforehand?”
“You did not need to know. Those facts are not ones we blather about for public consumption.”
“Why?” Jeb begins walking in the direction of Dimitri's slaver fortress. “The nightloper is no threat to