Beloved Beast #7
“From a man of God?” He crowed with laughter. “Jesus Christ, you’re even more of a bitch than I imagined.”
“I stole from him in his church. Shamed him. He’s obsessed. Said no other man will ever touch me.”
“Did he now?” he asked, and kicked the Highlander again. This time he moaned. “Is that true, old man?”
Mackay rose groggily to one elbow. “Leave her be.” His voice was little more than a growl.
“I fear I can’t do that.” Cryton laughed. The sound was hollow and empty in the narrow space. “She’s mine,” he said, and reaching out, grabbed her by the hair.
Pain thundered through her scalp, skittered down her neck, chasing fear before it. “Get me out of here,” she hissed, “I’ll do whatever you wish.”
“Believe this, lass,” he snarled. “You’ll take my orders little matter what I do.”
Swift braced herself, playing every card she held as she looked up through her lashes at him. “But how much better would it be if I were willing?” she asked and skimmed one chained hand down his chest to his crotch.
“You want it now?”
“Soon,” she said and squeezed. The keys were inches away, bulging in his pants’ pocket. “When we’re alone.” There was no better way to convince him to stay than to ask him to leave. That she knew.
He pressed up against her. “I rather like the idea of him watching,” he said and reaching up, ripped her ratty gown down the front.
She couldn’t stop the gasp of disgust that rattled from her throat as he pushed her against the wall, but covered it with as moan as she pressed her head against the stone behind her and grappled with his trousers.
“Leave her!” the Highlander snarled, but in that instant she nipped the keys from Cryton’s pocket.
It was a simple thing. A beautiful thing.
For a fraction of a moment she dipped inside, then cupped him intimately with her left hand as she flicked the keys towards Mackay with her right.
They sailed silently through the dimness, but her chains impeded the throw.
The keys soared for an instant too long, sailing past Mackay’s outstretched fingertips to clatter like wind-swept hail against the rocky floor.
For a moment the world went absolutely silent. Cryton turned with careful precision to stare at the keys, then, “You bitch!” he snarled and hit her.
She stumbled back, struck the wall and crumpled, but he was already reaching for her, pulling her to her feet, hitting her again.
She saw Mackay lurch away, grappling for the keys, but his chains snatched him up short.
“You conniving cow!” Cryton rasped and kicked her in the ribs. Pain screamed through her.
Mackay strained towards the keys, but Swift could no longer concern herself with his escape. She scrambled along the wall. Cryton came after her. Slavering with rage, he kicked her again. She sprawled forwards, found her hands and knees and lurched on.
Cryton strode after her, cocky, enraged, and in that moment, the Highlander rose to his feet and lunged towards them.
Cryton was still moving forwards as Mackay swung his arm wide. His chains whipped up and out, encircling Cryton’s neck like a loop.
His eyes popped wide. “Sil!” His voice was warbled but loud.
Footsteps clattered above.
“They’ll kill you,” Cryton rasped, grimacing a smile as he grappled to free himself. “They’ll kill you, then fook her till––”
Mackay snapped the links tight against the other’s throat. Bones cracked. Cryton jerked spasmodically, eyes bulging, then hung still, suspended by the chains.
Mackay let him fall just as a half dozen others dropped to the floor nearby.
One of them fired a shot. Sparks sputtered in every direction as they struck the wall and ricocheted madly.
Swift screamed. Mackay roared in rage, wrapped his arms in his chains and heaved.
The restraining metal rings popped from the walls just as two men leapt at him, knives drawn. Another bullet hissed past his ear. But in less than thirty seconds, the dungeon went silent.
Seven bodies lay motionless on the floor.
The Highlander staggered, starring dazedly at the carnage. “I’m a man of peace,” he whispered. Swift unlocked the last of her chains and stumbled towards him.
“Highlander.”
He turned towards her, eyes haunted. “Peace,” he said again. His voice was broken, his expression shattered, and she cupped his beloved face in her palm.
“They would have tortured me, Highlander. Tortured and killed me as they’ve done to others.”
“There are better ways …”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, sometimes. But not this time. This time your strength was necessary.”
He shook his head, but she stilled the motion with a trembling hand. “The boys upstairs will live because of you. Tavis will live,” she said.
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time since Cryton’s arrival. “How many lads are there?”
“Five at last count.”
He winced. “I can’t care for––”
“Six counting Tav.”
He shook his head, seeming more himself. “I have funds to help them,” he said. “But they’ll need more than coin. They’re damaged. Broken––”
“We’ll mend them,” she whispered.
He lowered his eyes to hers.
“We’ll mend us,” she whispered and kissed him.