Beloved Beast Read Online Free PDF

and purple bruises stretched like long fingers across her throat. Chains encircled her ankles, chafing the skin of her bare feet, but her eyes were the same, sparking with intellect, snapping with life.
    Their gazes met with a clash. For a second there was something there. Hope or regret or fear. He wasn’t sure which, but in a moment she turned to Cryton and smiled. “Go to hell.” Her voice was as softly melodious as he remembered.
    The villain’s lips curved into a snarl. Then he leapt across the floor and struck her across the face. She staggered back, hitting the wall with a sickening thud.
    The sheer violence of it stole Mackay’s breath away, but Cryton was moving again, grabbing her by the hair, drawing back his fist for another strike.
    Without being entirely aware he had moved, Mackay crossed the distance and caught the villain’s wrist, twisting hard then turning to watch the room at large.
    “Hey!” Sil yelled. “Let him go ‘less you want your brains spattered clear to Holyrood.”
    Mackay stood perfectly still, eyes steady on the man with the pistol. “I’m a man of peace.” The words were more for himself than anyone. A mild reminder not to snap the other’s arm like a dry chicken bone. “Don’t make me do something for which I must pay penance.”
    “Get your fookin’ hands off me!” Cryton snarled.
    Mackay smiled. The expression felt predatory and tight. “ That which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth the man.”
    “What the devil are you talking about?” Cryton hissed, bent away at the waist.
    “I’m talking about you telling the tall scrawny lad there to put the gun down.”
    “Go to-”
    Mackay cranked up his arm a little, refusing to enjoy the other’s whimper of pain.
    “Sil!” he shrieked. “God dammit, drop the pistol.”
    “But--”
    “Drop it!”
    Mackay watched it hit the floor and drew a careful breath through his nose. “Now tell the other scrawny lad to drop the knife.”
    “He ain’t got no--”
    A little more pressure on his arm. “Tell him.”
    “Kerry!”
    An eight inch blade struck the hardwood.
    “Much better.”
    “You’re dead, You’re worse than dead,” Cryton snarled, but Mackay ignored him.
    “I’ve changed me mind,” he announced to the room, looking at no one in particular. “I want the lass there instead of the boy.”
    A slow smile spread across Cryton’s pale complexion. “Titties like that could make a saint randy, aye?”
    Mackay refrained from shattering the bone, though it was a close thing. “You’ll let her go,” he said.
    “The fook I will. She was poaching goods on my turf.”
    “Leave her to me. She’ll poach no more.”
    “Going to keep her too busy on her back to-” he began then grunted in pain.
    “Unchain her and I’ll give you the coin intended for the lad.”
    Cryton sniggered. “You’re bad cooked, old--”
    “What lad?” Swift asked.
    Mackay didn’t turn toward her, though he heard her chains clatter as she moved. “Release her,” he ordered.
    “What lad?” she asked again and strode toward him, links jangling. He glanced at her against his will. Anger burned like acid at the sight of her bruises.
    “Good Brother Brenan here comes to our side of town to buy a fair-haired lad now and again,” Cryton said.
    “Why?” Her eyes were steady.
    “Why do you think, girl?” Cryton asked and made a rude gesture with the arm that wasn’t trapped behind his back.
    Her face paled as she turned toward Mackay. “Is that true?”
    He said nothing in his defense.
    “The boy in the kirk…” She paused as if remembering back. “The one eating bread and jam…” She cleared her throat. “The one you called Rye. He was one of them?”
    “I did not bring him from here,” Mackay said.
    “But you took him in. Fed him.”
    “Maybe he likes his slaves fat when he foo-” Cryton began then shrieked in pain.
    Swift jerked her gaze from Cryton to Mackay. “Tavis….you’ll find him in Newberry House on