Alpha Warriors of The Cause - Tamara Rose Blodgett Page 0,2

hot air against his fist and shining it on a worn-out Reflective uniform. “I look hot.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Beth blanches, clearing her throat. “Uh…” She takes in the six-feet tall, strapping, and suddenly muscled young man then manages to sputter, “You look very grown up now.”

“So awkward,” Jacky chimes, “but that's cool. There's plenty of chicks who are going to dig my swag.”

Beth ignores him. “Ah.” She turns to Jeb. “How is this possible?”

Merrick tears his fingers through his messy hair. “Five years have passed since our mission.”

Beth blinks, stumbling back.

Jeb's strong hands arrest her momentum. “Shhh, it's all right.”

Adrenaline kicks through her system. “Fuck that!” Beth screams, swinging wildly out of his grip.

Jacky makes a contemplative noise. “Remember what that twat waffle Ryan said at my place?” Jacky asks.

Beth backs away from them both. She knows how long she's been gone: Days.

Not years.

Jeb scowls warily at Jacky, who is eyeing Beth. “Jacky—cease that.”

He shrugs, flinging his palms wide. “Nope. I'm going to do me all the way, Jeb.”

Jeb stalks toward Jacky, who wisely retreats, matching the older man’s steps.

“Wait,” Beth says, holding her hands up. “Jacky, shut up. I'm thinking.”

Jacky smirks. “Think away. Papilio is falling down around our heads, but let's stand around choking the chicken while we think it out.” He nods as though answering himself. “Yeah, I'm on board with that plan.” He rolls his eyes.

Jeb ignores Jacky, walking back to where Beth stands.

“Jeb—tell me what has happened in five years?”

His eyes fall to the side, and Beth draws nearer, gripping his biceps, her fingertips clenching against the roughness of his uniform. “Tell me.”

He covers her hand fisting his shirt.

“You will not like it.”

Their eyes lock.

“Now that's a no-shitter,” Jacky pipes up in the background.

He's right.

Beth didn't like it. Not one bit.

CHAPTER TWO

Merrick

Jeb scrubs his face, frowning at the stubble peppering his jaw. Every nerve he possesses is raw and exposed.

Beth is his soul mate. And that one thing, so pivotal—so unavoidable—has irrevocably changed their relationship. She knows there is no way Jeb would claim her unless it were so.

None.

Her status of soul mate is not predicated on whether Papilio is on its ear from a tyrannical regime of perverted Reflectives.

Some prejudices run bone deep. His claim of her should be proof that Beth is pure enough to warrant the tie of a Reflective.

But those who hold to the old beliefs will try to make their lives miserable, whichever regime rises from the ashes after the last five years.

However, Jeb has too many current variables to worry about. His first order of business must be protecting Beth—against her express will. Yes, she'd conceded to the idea that she would allow his watch care. But in practice?

Never.

Jeb glares at Jacky. He should be returned to Three.

He'll never go. Not as long as Madeline DeVere is unaccounted for.

“Jeb,” Beth calls gingerly, and he swings to face her. “We need to go to the TCH.”

Jeb sighs, planting his hands on the hips of his dirt-encrusted uniform.

“I say negative to that, Jasper,” Jacky says in crisp mockery, cocking his head toward TCH. “There’s some shit going on. And I'm not down with whatever that nasty little catastrophe is.”

Beth's face scrunches with determination, and Jeb knows Jacky has lost before he does.

Jacky ignores Beth. “What I really wanna do is get Maddie and get the fuck outta Dodge. This place—old utopia? Not so cool anymore. Reflectives turned into pimps, killing each other. And One was fun, just sayinʼ.”

Jeb strides to Jacky, who remains where he stands. Jeb pokes his chest and Jacky stumbles back a half meter. “Thank you so much for your enlightenment.”

“Jeb!” Beth shouts.

Shove.

Jacky staggers again then roars like a lion and attacks Jeb.

Jeb is a trained Reflective, but he's never had a Three, whose not quite a man, come after him, and he’s utterly unprepared.

The boy feints to the left, and Jeb deflects automatically with a raised forearm.

Jacky takes Jeb's forearm in both hands, sinking his teeth into it as if it were his favorite drumstick.

Jeb howls, moving to backhand him.

Beth is suddenly there, hanging off Jeb's arm.

She jabs Jeb in the ribs with a perfectly executed strike, playing his ribs like a keyboard. Jeb grimaces and slaps Jacky, sending him flying.

Jeb whirls to Beth, a vein in his forehead pulsing in time to his rage.

Beth bounces from foot to foot, her fists raised beside her jaw. Waiting.

Jeb's anger leaks away, shame taking its place. His arms drop to hang loose by his sides. “I would never