Free Stone Beast by Bonnie Bliss Page A

bile that gathered in her throat, and she wanted
to just get away.
    Run.
    “Fuck. Shit. Bethy.”
    “Don’t call me that,” she whispered.
    “Fuck.”
    “Who is she, Patty Cakes? I like chicks, but
you know fat girls make me grossed out,” the woman purred against
his ear. “But for my Patty, I can make an exception.”
    Bethany was shaking her head. She could feel
the light tickle of her messy curls brushing against her neck. She
pressed her fingers against her chest and took a step back. Leaning
forward, she grabbed the door and slammed it shut. She turned as a
sob tore from her throat.
    “Bethany! Don’t you fucking leave!” Patrick
roared from the other side of the door.
    She left.
    Bethany James didn’t just leave; she raced
through her apartment grabbing everything she could. She snatched
up her wallet this time and gathered a few other things that
belonged to her. She would come back for her clothes. Then she
raced out the front door and back to her car. She just sat and
cried for a good ten minutes. Patrick never came down. The blow was
rough.
    She brushed away more tears and saw the
smears of mascara on her fingertips. Bethany twisted the rear view
mirror in her direction and noticed her make-up was making a very
ugly trail down her creamy skin. Her eyes were swollen and red, her
cheeks were blotchy, and her lips were puffier than usual. As she
tried to clean herself up, she took in her chubby—looking face. She
thought she’d been doing well. She’d gone from a size twenty to a
sixteen in the last five months. It was all Patrick’s idea. He said
it was simply just a healthier way of living to try and get rid of
the extra weight. Patrick had started dating her when she was
heavy. He told her she was beautiful, and it didn’t bother him
because she was just so damned pretty.
    Lies.
    They were all lies.
    She looked down at her trendy, torn-up jeans
that she’d paired with red and black check stretch pants. Her black
V-neck t-shirt exposed her abundance of cleavage, something Patrick
had been particularly fond of. Maybe he really wanted fake tits.
Both those girls in the room had them. She wrapped the sweater
around herself tighter and looked down at the clock, and realized
she was late coming back for lunch.
    On the short drive back she called her
friend, Ashley. Bethany gave her the blow-by-blow, and asked if she
could stay with her. Ashley released a series of curses that
rivaled what she’d heard Patrick say back at her apartment. Then
she vowed to beat the shit out of him. She offered to go pick up
Bethany’s clothes but she told her no. She wasn’t in the mood to
bail her best friend out of jail for killing her ex.
    “What a fucking twat, Bethy. Seriously. You
gave that fucker everything. You even paid the goddamned rent, and
you’re the one that’s leaving?”
    “Yeah.” She couldn’t find another word.
“Look, I’m back at work and I’m gonna head in. Organizing library
books will get my mind off things.”
    “Only you would be soothed by fucking books.”
Ashley sighed through the line. “Fine. But I expect you here right
after work, okay?”
    “Okay, and thanks again.”
    “Not a problem.”
    Bethany disconnected the call and headed
around the back of the building to the front. As she came around
the corner he came into view. He was the enormous
gargoyle statue that decorated the front of the building. Well over
seven feet tall, he looked like he could save the world. With a
deep breath, she reached out and ran her fingers down the rough
stone that should’ve been cold—but he was warm. Her brows furrowed
and she stepped closer as her fingertips coasted over his chiseled
features.
    “A hero would do just fine right about now.
If only you were real.” She smiled and shook her head. As she
stepped away a scent teased the air. It was pleasant, male,
something like midnight. Bethany took a step back, then headed up
to work. Her body was on fire and she wanted to go straight