Beauty Dates the Beast(43)

“But I don’t want you touching her,” she whined.

Jason stared at Arabella, his mouth thinning as if he was finding her needy side very annoying. After a moment, he sighed. “All right, my pet. I won’t touch her. She’s all yours—”

Arabella’s smile was brilliant.

I swallowed hard.

“—as soon as we’ve killed Beau,” Jason finished.

“But—” Arabella began.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I blurted.

Both of them turned to stare at me in annoyance.

“Sorry,” I said in a small voice, trying to sound pathetic. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

It was the oldest ploy in the world. Please let them fall for it.

To my vast surprise, Jason acquiesced. “Take her to the bathroom, and we’ll finish where we left off.”

Oh, boy.

Arabella gave me an impatient look and grabbed my arm. “Come on.”

She dragged me toward the bathroom. Giselle’s bathroom. Bile rose in my throat and I clutched a hand to my mouth. “Not that one,” I said between pressed fingers. “Please.”

She looked at me in disgust and wavered for a moment. I knew what she was thinking. Give in to my stupid demand, or push me into the bloody butcher shop and risk Jason’s wrath if I freaked out?

“Come on,” she said gruffly and dragged me across the hall and down the stairs, back to the first floor.

Thank God for that small miracle. I allowed her to drag me through the house with no protest, and when she threw me into the bathroom, I didn’t utter a squeak as I slapped against the wall. “Five minutes, or I break your leg,” she snarled at me. “I can still eat you with a busted leg.”

I nodded at her as she closed the door of the bathroom. When it shut, I heard her pacing the hall.

I had five minutes to think of something, fast.

I ruled out the window right away. Instead of regular glass, there were small blocks of thick, bubbled glass too small to squeeze through.

Think, Bathsheba, think.

I had two massively powerful shapeshifters in this house with me. Beau and his small army waited on the lawn. Neither was going to make a move until the other did. Beau wouldn’t come inside unless he knew it wouldn’t cost us our lives. Arabella and Jason wouldn’t vacate because right now they held the advantage.

I had to get Arabella and Jason out of the house, somehow.

A small, decorative set of candles on the back wall caught my eye. A fire! Candles needed matches.

I quietly pulled open the drawer under the sink and rummaged through it. No matches.

There was nail polish, hairspray, hair doodads, a curling iron, and a blow-dryer. Arabella’s stuff. My hand passed over the nail polish again, and then the curling iron, and then stopped.

The curling iron might get hot enough to start a fire.

Excited, I glanced around and looked for an outlet. There—on the far end of the wall. Good. I plugged the curling iron in, turned it on high, and looked for someplace to hide it.

A half-full wastebasket sat on the far side of the toilet. Even better. I shoved the curling iron in the bottom, and filled the rest of the wastebasket with loose toilet paper, then dripped the nail polish over it. Last, I set the aerosol can next to the curling iron. That would explode, right? I hoped so. If I was lucky, it’d catch fire.

“Hurry up,” Arabella yelled, and I hastily flushed the toilet. I took a quick look at the cloth shower curtain, then shoved the wastebasket over as far as the curling iron’s cord would stretch and tucked some of the shower curtain in it. Perfect. Unless you were looking closely, the beige cord of the curling iron was invisible against the wall, and the shower curtain ruffles hid the basket.

The faint stink of hot metal was already starting to fill the room, mixing with the scent of nail polish, and I panicked. I needed to conceal the smell. I grabbed the nearby perfume bottle and smashed it on the floor.

Arabella flung the door open. “What are you doing, you stupid bitch?”

As soon as she opened the door I bolted past her, barreling for the kitchen.

She grabbed my elbow and snapped me backward so hard that my arm throbbed and burned, and I collapsed at her feet. Arabella wrapped her hands in my shredded clothing and dragged me back down the hall. “You’re done.”

Exhausted and hurting, I cradled my arm and let her drag me back to the pool room, praying for a miracle.





Chapter Twenty-two





The day passed unbearably slowly. My nerves were so tight that I thought my entire body would snap. Nothing was happening. It was a standoff of strange, bizarre proportions. The host of Alliance shifters was still on the lawn, circling the house in animal form, prowling.



The only bits of news I got were from the few short, terse words exchanged by Arabella and Jason. They’d bound me again, and alternated between glancing at me and then uneasily back at the lawn.

Beau’s backup had thrown a major wrench into their plans.

“We need a way to draw him in,” Jason said after a time. “He’s too confident out there, surrounded by the others. In here we can destroy him, steal his power. Once he’s downed, the others would fall like cards.”

I shuddered. Come on, fire. Any time now.

Arabella gave a small shrug. “Why not hurt her? Take her out on the balcony and remove a few fingers to get him moving.” Her eyes gleamed.

As if considering this rather horrible plan, Jason studied me. “Take your clothes off.”

What? “No.” I glanced at Arabella, whose mouth had thinned into a line of disapproval.

“Take your clothes off,” Jason repeated, staring at me with intensity. “We need to make him think the worst.”

No, no, no. I scooted my chair back.

Jason strode over to me, a crazy light in his eyes. His hand extended toward me, and as I watched, it twisted and bubbled, transforming into something hideous. The distorted flesh formed a paw, and then kept going. Muscles bulged and ripped, and the claws grew even larger.

I scooted back another inch. Arabella’s eyes began to gleam and transform, as if she was excited by the thought of the violence.

Oh, God.

The repulsive paw touched my shoulder, and a shudder rocked through me. I tried to wriggle away. “No! Don’t touch me!”

His lips curled back as if amused. Claws sliced through my already shredded T-shirt and snarled on my bra, leaving painful red welts. Then he sliced through my bra. Jason methodically tore my clothing until it hung off me in shreds, exposing my trembling body and leaving long red scratches across my pale skin.

After my clothing was demolished, Jason took a step back, flexing his distorted paw. “Why don’t you mess her up a little, my dear?”

Arabella pushed forward and decked me across the face.

Red and black edged my vision, and I tasted blood. Hot blood ran out of my nose, and my head rang with pain.

“Just enough to make her look roughed up,” Jason cautioned. “We want her mobile enough for him to know she’s alive. Make her scream.”

He knew Beau’s ultra-sensitive shifter hearing would pick up my cries. Well, I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, bracing myself. Arabella’s next fist got me in the gut. She punched me a few more times, but I remained silent, choking back sobs of pain.

Jason pushed Arabella aside. With one quick swipe, he ripped his claws across my shoulder and breast, tearing my skin. Blood ran from the shallow wounds and my chest felt like it was on fire.

I gave a long cry of pain, unable to swallow it.

“That’s better,” he said, and rubbed his crotch as if my pain excited him. Then Jason grabbed me by the wrist, dragging me up against his body. His claws cut through my bonds and my wrists fell free.

I immediately started to thrash, trying to break free of his grasp.

“I like it when you fight,” he said, his eyes gleaming with madness, a feral grin on his face. “Let’s go see your boyfriend, shall we?”

One of the large bay windows led out to a balcony. Jason pulled me in front of him as a shield, setting off waves of pain, and glanced at Arabella. “Stay out of sight.”

She snarled, a more Wendigo-like sound than I would have liked to hear. “Why?”

“Because they think I’m here with her alone. The element of surprise will work in our favor.” He gave her a cold glance. “And because I said so.”

With that tone, he wasn’t messing around. Arabella shut up and kept away from the door.

Jason pulled it open and went out, my back pressed against his stomach. I struggled weakly, then sagged. Still reeling from Arabella’s beating, I found it hard to concentrate. The side of my face was sticky with blood, but even worse, I couldn’t seem to focus. The pain was too distracting.

“Beauregard,” Jason bellowed. “Show yourself.”