Lycan Alpha Claim 3 (40 page)

The roar of the crowd made it impossible.

“This ends here, Jasper.”

A cruel smile overtook his face. “The Reflective doesn't have room for mongrel females.”

Jeb's eyes sharpened on her utter stillness.

Her form began to waver, shimmering on top of the bloody mat.

Jeb squinted at her, thinking maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The noise of the crowd was disorientating.

Ryan flicked the switchblade as smoothly as he’d been trained to do. Training blades were all ceramic.

Jasper wore the scars to attest to that, but reflective
blades could still be had on the black market for the right price.

Looks like Ryan paid.

Jeb watched the shining metal, his innate ability instantly online around a reflection, and his talent hummed with want. His eyes met Kennet's, and all eyes went to Rachett, wondering what he would do to Ryan for producing an illegal weapon.

The blade’s mirrored surface shimmered in the low lights that bathed the interior of the coliseum.

Holy fuck.

Jeb began to push through the people. The situation was going to get ugly.

No, check that—gruesome.

Ryan planned to murder Beth Jasper; maybe he always had.

Jeb could let an inductee take licks, abuse, and unfairness. But one Reflective would not kill another on his watch.

Why, for the love of the Principle, has Rachett not interfered?

“Hey!” a man protested as Jeb pushed him aside.

Then he saw Jeb's uniform and silently moved, as did everyone else in his path.

The crowd parted like the Earth's fabled Red Sea parting; Reflectives had that effect.

Jeb grabbed the ropes around the perimeter, hesitating as Rachett bellowed too late, “No blades!”

His voice carried a note of high-keening fear.

Jeb swung to face his Commander.

He had never seen or heard fear from Rachett. When all inequalities of the fight had been dismissed—Ryan's size against Beth and her gender—he’d finally taken notice when an illegal weapon was produced.

It was beyond bizarre. None of it made sense.

Jeb saw the whites of Jasper's eyes. The inky tail of her braid was wet with her blood. Ryan’s blade swung so close to her face that its breeze lifted wisps of her hair. She crab walked backward in an awkward scuttle of escape.

Ryan braced himself as his commander screamed for Ryan to stop, but he ignored the directive.

Rachett stepped forward too late to stop his best inductee from gutting another recruit as a justified elimination tactic and grabbed Ryan's arm.

But the knife was gone.

It was already singing through the air in an expert trajectory aimed at Beth.

The blade spun in the combustible silence of the coliseum as the crowd held a collective breath.

Jeb strode toward Jasper, but she seemed unaware as her dark eyes tracked the knife.

Jeb’s eye's hadn't lied. One moment, she was solid. The next, she became opaque.

Then she was gone.

Jeb had seen many jumps, but never a female's—and never into something so small. The crowd watched as a glittering
rope of iridescent white, like a pearl with a rainbow wash, slammed into the blade.

Jasper's body disappeared then reappeared in the thin reflective ribbon of the jump as it collided with the metal
, as she’d meant to.

When the knife landed in the mat, its tip sank deep into the soft surface with a twang.

The silence was deafening.

Beth Jasper had vanished. Only her blood remained as grim testimony to her presence moments before.

Rachett fisted Ryan's tunic, jerking him close.

“You dumb fuck,” he began with the quiet menace he was known for. “All you had to accomplish was keeping weapons out of it. You could have pummeled her into the mat in a fair spar.”

His eyes pegged Ryan's in blatant disgust.

“Now”—his flat eyes locked with Ryan's—“she's jumped. She
won
because you couldn't contain your shit
.
”

Jeb's eyes connected with Kennet, who was across the ring from where he stood, and the other man was just as stunned. Jeb glanced at the blade embedded in the mat and shook his head in disbelief.

“There's no way!” one of the Reflective recruits said quietly. “That's a six-inch surface. She's a half-breed… nobody can jump that.” He scoffed.

But somebody had. Beth Jasper, female, half-breed… had just shown her hand.

It looked like aces high.

The crowd began to disperse, their eyes roving for the missing Reflective female who had just made history.

There would be no jeering in her future, only jealousy.

Rachett reiterated what they'd always known, though a few had chosen to ignore.

“The Principle chooses who it will. There is no logic. That's why when we have an opponent. We do not underestimate their skills. Let this be a lesson to all who fight,” Rachett expounded, spinning in a slow, deliberate circle, his eyes falling on the inductee recruits, the Reflectives, and the lesser audience who remained.

“Be ready,” he finished, landing a final, leaden glance on Ryan before he stalked out of the coliseum. Guards moved up beside Ryan. His infraction would land him on Sector One, for certain. No Reflective wished to jump there.

This was an epic clusterfuck if there has ever been one.

Jeb groaned.

As the recruits filtered out, Ryan's defiant gaze challenged all who dared look his way as he was cuffed with non-reflective cuffs. One of the guards jerked the blade out of the mat, giving Ryan narrow eyes.

Jeb's gaze squared off with Ryan until he dropped his gaze and the guards escorted him out.

Jeb stared after Ryan’s back. He ran a frustrated hand through his cropped hair.

He knew what this disturbing mess meant for him. Jeb would be tasked with locating Jasper. His primary task was retrieval. He was meant to be reassigned momentarily.

However, it seemed that it would take longer than a moment.

The crowd thinned, and Jeb stared at the drying blood on the mat, the comments of those around him the same.

Awe mixed with fear was a bad combination. It could be a recipe for many things. When Beth returned, what reception would she find waiting?

He knew the people would forget Ryan’s transgressions against her. All they would remember was her jump.

He would never forget it.

Jeb lifted his head at a small noise. Daphne, a beautiful Reflective, came toward him, her hips swaying so he would notice. And he did.

But even as her lush body moved toward him like water finding a crack in a stone, his mind was on another female, the newest member of The Cause: Beth Jasper, a jumper without compare—and his new partner.

CHAPTER TWO

Beth rolled out of her self-imposed tunnel of fire and ice without finesse or regard to safety.

Her reaction wasn't too different from that of brave soldiers cornered at the edge of a cliff. As the enemy closes in, do they stay and get slaughtered? Or do they jump, hoping to live and
fight another day?

Beth had jumped.

She'd leapt at a spinning blade that made her nauseated to track. She’d known what the landing would be.

However, she'd been at the theoretical cliff as Ryan’s knife beared down, not a soul to stand in her defense.

Beth exited the tunnel like an infant during a birth gone wrong.

She hurtled out of the sucking chasm that quantified the pathway that only Reflectives could travel and tried to loosen her body, remembering Rachett's words:

“Behave like a drunk imbecile when you land—every piece of you loosen,” he'd said, and Beth remembered the truth in his pale eyes. “Remember, the Principle guards drunks and small children.”

There'd been good-natured laughs all around—but not at this moment.

Beth knew she would land without forethought.

I'll heal.

Her body naturally tensed for landing, and she knew to resist that instinct.

Pain lanced her as she was purged from the end of the pathway. And Beth fell. Hard.

The crushing impact stole her breath.

She lay on a pebbly surface of rough stone, watching cumulus clouds form deep ripples in the blue sky as her lungs begged for oxygen.

The temperature was sultry. Her fingertips burned against the surface of the stone.

Her chest opened to the insufferable heat and Beth took great whooping gulps of oven-like air.

“Mommy, mommy,” a youngling called out.

Oh no
, Beth thought, experimentally moving her toes,
witnesses.

A loud roaring filled Beth's ears, and she tried to move to find its source, but she could not force her body to cooperate.

Two forms blocked the fluffy white clouds, their shadows cooling her. The little one had long blonde hair, too much brown to be truly light. In one hand, she fisted a bear, and the thumb of her other hand was in her mouth.

“Why is the lady in the middle of the road?”

Good question.
Beth tried to move and moaned through a hiss of pain
. Back's broken.
Her situation was almost as bad as Ryan trying to have her meet the Maker.

A woman, too young to be the child’s mother, leaned forward. “Are you okay?”

No, I've fractured some vertebrae, and I'm on the wrong damn planet, but otherwise, things are just great.
Beth did a mental eye roll and began to review their diction.

All sector language had been hammered into her from the time she was five cycles.

English, twenty-first century, Sector Three—Earth.

“Yeah,” Beth croaked in English through her teeth.

The planet was a Hades of a lot different than its simulations. Beth hadn't jumped, except for brief explorations, and had never encountered other beings other than when she'd traveled when she was five.

That had not gone well.

The little girl cocked her head and gave Beth a strange look.

Better work on my accent.

The woman moved out of her line of vision and the roaring gnashing gears became unbearable.

What in the inferno is that?

Beth screamed in pain when she tried to move herself, vulnerable and laid out Principle knew where.

“Shhh.” The little girl touched her arm with sticky hands. “Mimi be right back.”

Boots crunched closer, and Beth tensed.

She could do nothing, but it was difficult to not act the warrior even as injured as she was.

A male of considerable size moved in front of her and Beth assessed him.
Six feet, two hundred pounds
. He moved with a languid peace, and she knew instantly that he could handle himself in a moderate engagement.

All Reflectives assessed. It was part of who they were.

Beth was pleased by the knowledge that he would not last in match with her, though he had her by nine inches and ninety pounds.

He stooped; his light brown eyes were kind.

“Well, little lady, looks like someone's dumped ya here.”

He spit a stream of brown liquid to the side.

Clever male.
Beth's lips curled.

Then he touched her, and she shouted,  “Do not!”

She panted, her hands gripping his shoulders. “Move me,” she finished.

He smiled.

“You're not staying in the road, girl.” His eyebrows shot up to a fine bristle of dark-blond hair circling his head like a golden down. Beth tried to shift and cried out through her clenched lips.

“No, no… girl. Hold your horses.”

Beth searched around for animals. Seeing none, she turned back to him.

“Literal little thing, ain't ya?”

Another brown stream followed the first, and Beth wrinkled her nose.
Vile.

“Jeremy… we can't just leave her here.”

With her eyes, Beth followed the woman named Mimi.

Beth scanned her vitals. A light film of sweat dewed her forehead, and she wrung slick hands over and over in a nervous roll of reaction with a swamped pulse as if she had a bird trapped at the hollow of her throat.

Beth's eyes went to the small one, and she gave her a tired smile. The male—
Jer-e-may…?
Jeremy
—had slipped his hands underneath Beth's back.

His eyes widened.

“She's full of blood, Mimi…”

The young woman came forward, her eyes searching Beth's body carefully, and too late, Beth understood what Mimi was looking at.

Her sparring uniform was still whole, spattered with blood and bearing an emblem that was as foreign as she was in this world.

“Let's take her to the hospital,” Jeremy determined, and Beth stiffened as he lifted her.

Three's could never study her body. They would find things they shouldn't.

Beth screamed as agony tore through
her.

That was when Merrick made his entrance, and all Hades broke loose.

*

Jeb

Jeb folded his arms across his chest mummy style and felt the final twist when he would be expunged. Then he flung his arms wide at the last moment, moving his legs as though he were walking in midair.

Soon enough, his feet would meet something solid.

He hit the ground, his shins singing with the impact. Jeb was grateful it wasn't a slope but a manmade material. He could have gone ass over tea kettle if he'd landed on a hill.

He had.

Jeb ran at a full-out sprint to shake off the momentum of the jump, then slowed to a jog, then a walk.

He shook out his palms, restoring the feeling in his extremities. He knew from experience it would be a full minute before he was fully rejuvenated.

He stopped, closing his eyes.

Reflectives’ hearing was the finest of any being, save vampires.

Jeb heard Jasper scream, and his head snapped in that direction.

He did not slow upon seeing the three humans that hailed from Sector Three.

He gauged the century to the decade from their clothing. Then he determined the year when the male who posed the greatest threat spoke.

“What the hell is this?” The male rose, cradling Jasper, whose face appeared more pale than usual.

Jeb let his sensors run from his body like tendrils, feeling her injuries. She was badly hurt from the fall: L-1 and 3 were fractured. Jasper's foot twitched, but her legs remained immobile.

Her dark cautious eyes found him.

“Merrick,” she rasped.

Jeb mentally revised his superficial diagnosis. Her vocals were compromised, and he determined through greater psychic exploration that C-2 was damaged, as well. He exhaled loudly.

“Jasper,” he greeted.

He executed his internal exam of the male who held his yet-to-be-assigned partner, and Merrick found him wanting.

Jeb dismissed him to assess the females. One—caucasian, early twenties, five feet six, one hundred thirty pounds—held the hands of a youngling, perhaps four years of age.

He dismissed them as well.

Threats processed and noted, Jeb crossed his arms, folding them over his awful, classic twenty-first-century garb of stiff denim that made his balls feel like prisoners in a greenhouse and thieved his mobility.

However, they were the clothes of… Jeb looked down at his locator fashioned of mercury: 2030.

He had been to Sector Three many times. He wrinkled his nose as he detected the levels of pollution exceeding those he was accustomed to.

“This is my wife. I'll take her to…” Jeb considered his vocabulary carefully. “To seek medical treatment.”

He smiled, pushing it into his eyes. Humans liked that. It settled them like colts about to run. They hadn't seen his landing, so his lies should work.

The male's brows dropped over his eyes like a brick.

“I don't know who the hell you really are, but your ass just dropped out of the sky, and whatever claim you have on this young woman is null and void, Jack.”

Jack?

“Is he an alien?” the youngling asked, with wide, distrusting eyes.

Fuck.

Beth grimaced. “Smooth, Merrick, way to blend in.”

Jeb scowled at her, stalking toward the male, who did not back down.

Does he not know that Jeb Merrick is a warrior of The Cause? Of course not.
However, it was imperative only that Jeb know.

The Code ran through his mind, a blend of language from thirteen worlds, policed by only one.

The Reflectives will advance nothing, protect all, exploit the evil for what it is and defend The Cause without exception.

“Yes, I know it looks a little out of the ordinary.”

The youngling popped a thumb into her mouth.

It was not going well. He would have to extract moments from these humans’ brains. He gave a disgusted sigh; extraction was his least favorite task. It was akin to mental rape, or the thrall the vamps were known for.

Jeb calculated the distance at ten meters.

“Jasper, I need the distance.”

The male glanced down at Beth, and she extracted a small silver sphere
that glinted in the late sun of the day like captured silver.

Jasper held up the marble, and Jeb narrowed his vision on the warped and glossy pewter finish.

He could do a jump with something that small from his distance.

Heat washed through his body as Jeb pushed his being toward the sphere.

He could see his pale gray eye reflected even at that distance.

The concentration to jump took seconds.

Jeb thought only of the sphere. When nothing but the shape was in his mind, he spun out toward it. His body snapped like a rubber band and flashed to Jasper in a heartbeat.

Suddenly, Jeb was nose to nose with the male.

“Give me the woman,” Jeb commanded, his mental dominance sliding into the male before him.

His arms went loose, and Beth began to slide out of his grasp.

Jeb caught Jasper easily as the male, slack jawed, awaited new orders.

Jasper bit her lip to keep from crying out, and Jeb tucked her arm under his own. He looked at the people who stared at him. His gaze shifted to the youngling; nothing could be done with her.

The younglings' resistance because of their age was renown.

He worked on the man and woman until they believed they had pulled over from fatigue and that his appearance was no more than a bad dream.

The youngling was different.

He sent the young one's protectors away and dropped to his haunches easily, though Jasper lay like a dead weight within his hold.

“Don't… hurt her,” Jasper whispered in their native tongue, gritting her teeth against her pain.

Her eyes fluttered as she fought fatigue. She was badly injured and her body was trying to heal itself through rest.

“I am not a savage.”

“I have heard stories,” she replied in Latin.

Jeb was disgusted that Jasper would think him capable of harming a youngling.

He focused on the girl, but Jasper's comment rung inside his skull unpleasantly.

“Little one,” he began, switching to English. “Who do you think we are?”

The little girl looked carefully at Jasper.