Cassie blinked when she realized she was looking at herself. And it wasn’t just her face and hair and body The Beast had replicated—he was also wearing her clothes. The long, black nightgown she had on looked a lot more revealing now that she could see it on someone else. Her breasts were nearly visible through the thin, silky material, her nipples poking prominently against the fabric.
This time she didn’t have to pretend to be impressed or surprised.
“Son of a bitch!” she murmured, staring wide-eyed at her sudden doppelganger. The only way The Beast now differed from her was the flowing live ink tattoo under his skin. As she watched, it slid from his forearm, up his arm and neck and over his forehead before sliding down the other arm.
“You like, Mistress?” The Beast asked her in her own voice.
Cassie shook her head and crossed her arms over her breasts, feeling exposed.
“How did you do that?” she demanded. When Commander Sylvan had said that The Beast was an Imposter able to take any form he wanted, she hadn’t quite believed him or understood the implications. But watching the nearly seven-foot-tall male turn into an exact replica of herself, brought the truth home.
The Beast smiled her own smile at her and then, to Cassie’s immense relief, turned back into himself again. Or at least, he turned back into the self she knew him as—his Beast Kindred form.
“It’s a talent of my people,” he said, shrugging modestly.
“I bet it’s very useful to his Slimefullness,” Cassie remarked. “You must be able to play any part he wants you to in his, um, productions.”
“There is that,” The Beast agreed amiably. “Well, except for the underwater parts.” He shrugged. “Can’t grow working gills. I mean, I can simulate them, but they won’t actually help me breathe underwater.”
“I would really like to know more about you,” Cassie told him. “You’re a fascinating male.”
As she had hoped, playing to his vanity worked. The Beast puffed up his chest and gave her an arrogant grin.
“I am, aren’t I? Well, Mistress, if you’d like, I can take you on a tour of the palace before First Meal. I’ll tell you all about myself along the way.”
“I’d like that,” Cassie told him. “Er—could you just give me a moment to get ready?”
“Sure. I can wait.” He shrugged and threw an uneasy glance at Stone, who was still glaring silently at him. “Uh, is he coming with us?”
“My body-slave goes everywhere I go,” Cassie said firmly. “But don’t worry—as long as you don’t touch or threaten me, he won’t hurt you,” she added.
“He couldn’t if he tried,” the Beast sneered, but he took another step back as Stone began to growl again.
“Just give me a moment,” Cassie told him again and shut the door firmly in his face.
Thirty-Four
“Why did you agree to let that bastard take you on a tour?” Stone demanded, the moment the door was closed.
“Because…” Cassie took him by the arm and towed her reluctant partner away from the doorway, in case The Beast was listening. “Because,” she said again, in a low voice. “We need to get close to him—need to gain his trust if we’re ever going to get him out of the palace and back to our ship! You know we can’t arrest him in front of Gozeriam! We can’t afford to blow our cover that way.”
“I don’t like it.” Stone’s eyes had a murderous red glint far back in their pale blue depths. “I don’t like you being anywhere near that fucking bastard, Cassandra. He’s a murderer and a rapist!”
“We agreed this was how it would go,” Cassie pointed out patiently. “I mean, not exactly like this, but the plan has always been for me to gain his trust and lure him out of the palace.”
“I know, but now that I see him in the flesh, I just want to rip his fucking head off!” Stone’s eyes were more red than blue now and his voice had dropped a whole octave to a menacing rumble Cassie could feel in her bones when he spoke.
“Stone!” she exclaimed, really worried now. “Are you going into Rage? Because if you are, stop. We can’t afford for you to blow our cover!”
“I don’t want him near you!” Her partner’s voice was a muted roar and Cassie thought she had never seen him so angry.
It surprised her—she never would have guessed that Stone would go into Rage for her. Kindred warriors usually reserved that kind of berserker fury for when they thought the woman they loved was being threatened or hurt. And Stone didn’t love her—at least, not as more than a friend.
“All right, all right!” she tried to soothe him. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “Look at me. Look at me, Stone,” she commanded quietly.