Lycan Alpha Claim 3 (50 page)

She'd been so embroiled in her discussion with Merrick that she hadn't noticed recess for the younglings had ended. Their close proximity to the group had no doubt risen what the Threes called a “red flag.”

Wonderful, just what we need
.
Or what I need.

She had a partner who wanted to dump her, a new partnering with someone completely untrustworthy, and a Three male they couldn't jump in front of.

Merrick muttered it best, swearing under his breath.

“Fourth: j
ump only when
u
nobserved
.”

“We blew that all to Hades.”

“You two,” the male addressed them loudly.

“Let me talk,” Beth said and Merrick gave her a look. She was angry, the lake was approximately four and a half kilometers away and this rent-an-officer would be their undoing.

Of course, they had both let the emotional upheaval of an out of control jump and mission lead them around by the nose. She was actually surprised that Merrick hadn't been more single-minded and insisted on returning immediately to Papilio. What an unmitigated disaster.

“These are closed school grounds.”

Five feet eleven, moderate mastery of indigenous handgun, right hand dominant, fatty layer interferes with optimum condition. IQ: one hundred ten.

Beth swallowed.

She hated the marginally smarter Threes. At least he wasn't a Sensitive. That would have been another disaster waiting to happen.

“Just passinʼ through,” Beth said in perfect local quadrant dialect.

“Odd place to pass through.”

Beth smiled, forcing warmth into her eyes for this stranger. She knew that Merrick would be tired from using his mental manipulation against so many, so he was essentially useless.

She hoped that being female would be enough.

She drew closer, and he never flinched. Beth was irritated that her body had never intimidated anyone. It never would. She was dangerous—deadly even. She just didn't look it.

He didn't palm his holstered weapon at her approach and was completely at ease.

“We're not sure where Lake Mercian is? Hoping you knew.”

His gaze swept their clothing, which was definitely the worse for wear.

“Yeah?” His eyes held disbelief.

“Not looking like you're taking a day at the beach on a Tuesday.”

Beth's mind scrambled for what that meant.

She began to panic.

Merrick answered. “We work the weekends.”

He’d sounded stiff but passable.

Beth's shoulders relaxed.

The guard appeared to weigh Merrick’s sheer physical potential.

“Yeah… okay.”

He dismissed Merrick, his eyes moving to Beth.

He drove them down the front of her, and heat rose to the surface of her skin.

She'd had males look at her with disregard, disparagement and indifference. But this frank appraisal was wholly different—and even more unwelcome.

She saw Merrick's hand tighten into fists and gave a little shake of her head.

The Three suddenly grinned.

“IDs.”

Beth's head swiveled to Merrick.

“I'm afraid I don't have mine,” Merrick said in carefully enunciated English.

Beth had hers.

She kept it inside her pants, in a secure and intimate location, and she would have needed to get half undressed to get it from the interior pocket of her denims.

The prospect made her blush return with a vengeance.

Judging by how the male was eying her, he would have enjoyed pleasuring himself with the view of Beth without all her clothes on.

Some of the heat in her face came from anger.

“Well?” he asked, tapping his slim pulse communicator against his opposite hand. The warning was clear: produce an ID, or he would call more Threes.

“I do have it, but… it's inside my pants.”

“No, Jasper.”

“Yes…. Jasper,” the male said, eyeing Merrick speculatively.

Merrick stepped forward.

“She will not disrobe in front of you so you can confirm our identities. We're Americans, on the way to our lake destination. Detaining us is not within your tasks.”

Damn, Merrick
.

The male licked his lips, looking at Beth.

She shifted her weight. The air suddenly carried an oppressive thickness.

“I don't think so. You”—he pointed the tip of his pulse at Merrick—“speak weird as hell.”

His eyes trapped Beth again.

“And if she has to get naked as a jaybird to show me she's legit”—he swung up his palms as if to say,
It’s not my problem—
“she will.”

His brows dumped above sullen eyes.

“Now strip, sweetheart.”

“No.” Merrick's voice was full of the heat of anger.

Beth showed him with her face that they had talked too long, tarried in a public place longer than was safe.

They should have jumped instead of wasting all their time moving in conversational circles.

The hour had grown late. Beth wondered how much afternoon sunlight they would have before the surfaces offered no reflection.

If the perverted Three wanted to see her ID and lust after her flesh while she retrieved it, then it was a small sacrifice for the ultimate goal.

Beth took off the hoodie and let it drop to the ground. Next she tore off the long-sleeved shirt that covered her thin camisole, and it landed where the hoodie fell.

“Move backward,” he instructed.

She and Merrick locked gazes, moving into the thicket, where it was dark and quiet. There was no one to notice this Three.

“Now the pants.”

Merrick made a noise of pure disgust.

His fists clenched and unclenched. The flutter of his strong jaw conveyed his anger perfectly.

“Shut the fuck up, Romeo.” The Three smirked at Merrick.

Beth could just make out the low growl Merrick emitted. The Three had pressed so many buttons that Merrick's self-control was impressive.

She removed the denims. She unbuttoned the hidden pocket and plucked the laminated pulse ID out of the interior pocket.

“Now… let me see those sweet drawers.”

Beth could feel the roar of blood inside her ears.

“Drawers?” Beth asked, the ID inside her outstretched hand.

She leaned toward him with her upper body, as near as her hand could reach while keeping her body rooted.

The Three cleared his weapon from its holster and thumbed the activator.

It came to life, the red laser centering on Merrick's chest.

“Don't, hero. You'll be dead before I blink.”

“What? Here's my ID,” Beth said, maintaining a calm tone from sheer will alone, swinging her palm, making the holographic image of her face blink in the weak light inside the thicket.

“I don't give a shit who you are.” His eyes met Merrick's.

“I want to know you.” His other hand went to the crotch of his pants and squeezed.

Her eyes were riveted to where his hand fondled.

“Merrick,” Beth called, her voice giving her away.

She felt him tense beside her, waiting.

Just one word. Could she say it?
Could she ask for it?

It was the only word that mattered. Her fear had become a living, breathing thing.

“Help,” she whispered.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jeb was infuriated.

And that would not do. This wretched botch of a Three thought to rape his partner.

Jeb should have assessed his bent toward violence more quickly, then subdued him.

He couldn’t dwell on it at present, though. The time was definitely at hand for action instead of intellect.

His eyes took in Jasper, standing there without sheltering herself, her small body vulnerable to the perusal of the honorless male.

Jeb clenched his jaw, searching the area.

His gaze landed on trash. Someone had littered, a practice which no longer happened in Papilio.

The aluminum drink receptacle shimmered in the low light.

Jasper's eyes followed his gaze, and her eyes widened.

He had never dared jump in something so non-reflective, or so small.

“I'll shoot lover boy if you don't drop what ya got.” The Three lifted the gun, and the red dot bounced on Merrick's chest.

Jeb felt the heat of his impeding jump. He would not stop. The injustice of watching this male have his way with Beth wasn't something he had signed up to abide. Yet another problem with a female partner: there were always males in sectors who would not protect women, but harm them.

He gave his full attention to the crumpled can. Its dents lent more reflection.

Suddenly Jasper's hand was in his, and the surface crystalized, fully revealing every dim reflection.

A sigh slipped out before he could stop it.

He felt as if he had been blind and could suddenly see.

“No touching!” the Three shrieked too late.

Merrick saw what he needed and felt his fingers slip from Jasper's.

He slammed into the can and came out half a heartbeat later at the feet of the male.

Merrick recovered instantly.

A second in the pathway of fire and ice was not long enough to faze him.

He sprang to his feet and punched the weapon out of the Three's hand.

Jasper ducked as the Three's thumb spasmed from the hit, and a shot rang out—deafening in the cloistered-shrub forest.

Merrick punched his dominant hand into the Three's jaw, his superior reach unnecessary when he was so close. As he struck, he envisioned holding the daggers that were popular from One and saw them go through the body.

“Merrick!” Jasper screamed.

Jeb came to himself, blood-soaked to the elbow. He stood from the straddle he had on the Three, not understanding how he'd come to be there.

Jasper watched him, small and unafraid, her denims clenched inside her hand. “Stop—you'll kill him.”

Jeb looked at the male, whose face he’d pulverized.

“He deserves to die.”

Jasper nodded.

“Yes, but the jump is more important,” she reiterated carefully.

“He's seen too much,” Jeb said. His thoughts were far from self-defense and much closer to retaliation.

Jasper threw on her pants, jerked up the zipper, and grabbed her hoodie and shirt. “Come on.”

The Three was unconscious.

“He saw me jump,” Jeb sounded argumentative, even to his own ears.

Jasper just looked at him. “You want to kill him.”

Jeb thought about lying but didn't. “I do.”

“We can't….”

“I know,” Jeb interrupted softy. “Seventh:
No death is without consequence.”

Jasper nodded at his sage response. “The continuum.”

Jeb knew all about the circle of karma.

They had already killed Threes back at the eatery. Even more reason to avoid a partnering with Jasper: she seemed to incite violence in males as though she were a feminine challenge that they must accept. Maybe it was her Sector One blood, the very wildness of which sent out a low-grade subconscious summons.

Jeb strode away from her, and without turning, he said, “And this male has done this before. He was far too practiced.”

“We can't rescue every single human. We can only do for the greater good.”

“Fine,” Jeb said, decision made.

He strode back to the unconscious Three and kicked him in his small nut sack, putting his strength into it. Jeb was sure it was diminutive. No male who had something to brag about would take a woman in that way.

The male roused, his hands flailing about.

Jasper covered her mouth, eyes rounding.

“Principle,” she whispered. “Will he die?”

Jeb smirked. “Not from that. It's a love tap, considering what I wanted to do.”

“You injured him…” Jasper said.

She didn't seem too broken up about it.

Jeb threw his head back and laughed. “He won't die, but it's going to hurt like Hades when he wakes up.”

Jasper's chin dropped. When her face rose, she said, “Thank you.”

Jeb's smirk became a grin. “My pleasure.”

“I bet,” she said.

Jeb liked that her eyes had lost that haunted quality.

“How much farther?” Jeb asked, changing the awkward charge in the air.

“About four and a half kilometers.”

“Let's book.”

Her brows rose.

“Let us make haste to our destination.”

“I think I like ʽlet's bookʼ better.”

They smiled at each other and left the would-be rapist behind.

*

Jeb surveyed the crowded lake with thinly veiled anxiety. His hands  were on his hips.

He raised one and shaded his eyes.

The body of water was the perfect size for a jump to their home world without a locator. The lake was perfectly reflective, though the edges were murky with lily pads and the beginnings of human contamination typical of the era.

Jeb's arm dropped.

“Threes,” he said with more than a hint of disgust.

“Yes,” Jasper agreed quietly. “There are too many.”

Jeb turned to her. “Isn't there a more remote body of water?”

She nodded. “But the reflective points are unknown, as is the time to get there. Then we would be stuck here another night.”

“Damn,” Jeb murmured, cupping his chin. “Calvin would come for sure.”

“And Rachett would be steaming pissed.”

Merrick's lips twitched at the language.

He said nothing, though. Instead, he scanned the obvious pockets of greenbelts they could use to jump from.

It would not completely hide their trail, but it would diffuse it. Greenery was a terrific absorbent for their back trail from a jump.

“You see anything?” he asked.

“No—nothing. They've built everything to the water's edge.”

The people of this sector had still not embraced minimum green quota. He sighed. They had so much to learn. Jeb knew some critical advances were a generation away for Sector Three.

“All right, we bed down.”

Jasper snorted.

“Go ahead, figure out a spot.”

Jeb frowned. There was not a suitable area at the lake's edge. They would have to spend the night in misery.

Currency.
He did have enough currency to buy food, though. His stomach picked that moment to let out a growl.

“Hungry?” Jasper perked up.

“Starving.”

He turned a curious look her way.

“Aren't you?”

She nodded. “Me, too.”

They searched the area. coming up with a gruesome assortment of typical Three fare.

“Come on,” Jeb commanded, and Jasper followed, dead on her feet.

*

Jeb was on the third sandwich, which they called cheeseburgers in this sector, chewing thoughtfully while Jasper finished her first.

“Eat more,” Jeb said, tossing a second burger at her.

“I'm not that hungry.”

What now?
Jeb narrowed his eyes at her. “What's the problem?”

He leaned his back against a huge conifer tree. It’s sweeping branches smelled like freshly cut wood.

Jasper fiddled with the recycled paper that wrapped the sandwich, finally setting it down.

Jeb sucked a bubbly sweet liquid confection through a straw then set the drink down and leaned forward. “Talk.”

“For Principle's sake, I'm not a dog.” She swore under her breath.

Jeb’s eyebrows popped. Jasper was not a huge user of foul language. He swore enough for them both.

“Are you still sore about the cop?”

A great splash made them tense.

Jeb turned and saw a youngling diving along with his canine. The sleek black animal charged through the water chasing a bright-white disc. His gaze hung longingly on the sparkling drops the animal shook off his fur coat.

Then he dragged his attention back to Jasper.

She wrung her hands.

“No,” she answered in a low voice.

“What is it then?”

They grew silent as some older younglings strolled by, the females chasing the males. When the Threes were distant specks of running color, Jasper answered, “I'm afraid.”

Jeb sat up straight, looking for the threat.

“No.” Jasper gave a short laugh. “Not this moment. I mean, I—this is my first mission. It's gone badly, I almost died a Three's death, without honor. I made you jump us to heal me, and only luck got us back to the right quadrant. Then that… man,” she said, keeping her eyes cast to the ground.

“He was no man. Just because he has a dick doesn't make him a man. It just means he's male.”

Jasper smiled at his words, and he leaned back against the tree trunk, crossing his legs at the ankle, hands laced behind his head, elbows out.

The bark of the tree bit softly against his flesh.

“What else troubles you?”

Jasper's gaze found him. He gave her hooded eyes back.

He knew
the answer
.

Jeb maintained his posture with an effort. “It's because I don't want to partner you anymore.”

She nodded. “I know I've messed up. That I am female…”

“You did well for a first mission. There were a lot of unforeseen fucking little disasters in every corner.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, that's the way of it.”

Jeb felt air pressure, and his hand tore away from the back of his head to catch something midair.

It was a ball of some sort. Pigskin bound with white laces covered it, and it felt good in his palm.

A youngling of perhaps thirteen cycles ran up. Though the youth of this sector were hard to judge, he was very tall for his age.

Five feet seven, one hundred twenty-five pounds, cardiovascular system premium, IQ: one thirty…

Sensitive.

Fuck.

Jeb saw Jasper tense in his peripheral vision. They had simultaneously assessed the youngling.

“Mister, throw me the ball, will ya?”

Jeb threw it, and the youngling male sucked it into his chest as if he’d done so a hundred times before. He turned away then slowed… and stopped.

He turned around.

Their eyes met. Jeb noticed how green the irises were.
The rarest shade in this sector.
His mind automatically supplied the percentage: three percent.

It made him think of Jasper, whose eyes were the rarest color on Papilio.

“What are you?” the youngling whispered.

“We mean no harm,” Jeb answered, standing up and backing away.

“You were saying?” Beth asked.

Jeb supposed she was right.

All they needed to completely screw the mission was Kennet and Calvin to show up and escort them back to Papilio like infants.

No.

“Things aren't going smoothly.”

“Uh-huh,” Jasper replied quietly.

“Yeah,” the youngling said. “I know what you are…”

Jeb stepped forward, and the youngling retreated a step.

“Let's go,” Jasper said, plucking at his sleeve.

The youngling smirked.

“You're one of those Dimensionals.”

The Reflectives stilled.

“What did you call us?” Jasper asked, and Jeb held her back from moving closer to him.

In Jeb's experience, Sensitives weren’t to be trusted. But he wondered if they were being mislabeled for a kind of paranormal present in this sector. If they had a term that seemed to apply to people who could jump through the dimensions, that could mean there were Threes who possessed the ability of a Reflective.
This is bad.

Jeb understood that the Zondoraes had found an abandoned pathway, juiced it with this sector's newfound pulse technology, and used it for illicit travel. Jeb knew of no reports of natural talent in this sector.