Beyond the Thistles (The Highlands #1) Read Online Samantha Young

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Highlands Series by Samantha Young
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
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Fumbling in my purse for the keys, I became aware of my throbbing cheek and shoulder. I’d have to tell Callie I tripped and fell into the bedpost. The sound of him hitting me ricocheted through my mind. The fear of lying trapped beneath him, of being practically suffocated as he tried to—

A sob rose out of me like a wild animal set free, and I bent over, leaning blindly against my car as the cries wracked my body.

A hand touched my shoulder and I whirled in fear, dropping my keys.

Walker held up his hands between us, as if approaching a wounded animal, his eyes bright with more emotion than I’d ever seen.

Without thought, I sobbed harder and fell against him, arms around him, clutching the back of his suit jacket like he was a lifeline.

His powerful arms bound tight around me, and he murmured soothing words as I cried out the shock of the day, soaking the front of his shirt with my tears.

Six

WALKER

Part of my experience in the marines and as a bodyguard included learning to defuse situations as much as deal with situations that had already exploded. It was that training and experience that allowed me to rein in the fury at seeing Sloane pinned to the bed by that sick fucker. To detain him without beating his face to a bloody pulp.

For the first time in a long time, I regretted my ability to control my anger. Holding Sloane while she broke down in my arms, I’d wanted to march back into the castle, find Hoffman, and end the bastard.

The only thing stopping me was Sloane. I’d bundled her into my Range Rover and driven her home. During the entire ride, I kept glancing at her. She’d stopped crying. Her face was pale except for the bruise that bloomed on her cheek. My hands had tightened around the wheel at the reminder he’d hit her. The reminder that he had a chance to. I was raging at myself. All week I’d made sure I was on Hoffman’s floor while Sloane was working it. Then today, Jock had called me in to his office to discuss an update to the current drone system we used as security around the estate perimeter. Our meeting had run late, and I’d been hurrying toward Hoffman’s room when North Hunter stopped me to ask if I’d be interested in working as his personal security.

That’s when we heard Sloane’s muffled screams down the hall. It was a miracle we had. The castle walls were thick, the doors heavy.

The last time I’d felt that kind of fear was when Brodan called to tell me he was on his way to rescue Monroe from a madman, without backup. I could have killed Bro for doing that. But then I also understood why he couldn’t wait, not while Monroe’s life was in jeopardy. In the end, she’d been the one to save them both.

But who would have saved Sloane if I hadn’t gotten there in time? And did I get there in time? She’d still been traumatized, even if the piece of shit hadn’t raped her.

For that reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off her even as Sloane moved about the small kitchen in the cottage, baking as if on autopilot.

“Sloane, you need ice on your face,” I told her for the third time since we’d arrived back at her place.

She shook her head. “I don’t want Callie to see me like this,” she replied. She’d muttered the same thing a few times now, and I was getting worried about her emotional state, that she wasn’t dealing with what happened. Not quite sure what to do for her, I’d called Monroe when we got to the house. Callie was in Inverness with Regan and Lewis for the tae kwon do classes and wouldn’t be home for a while.

I took a step toward her. “Sloane, ice.”

My tone stopped her in the middle of stretching a dough that she’d whipped together impressively fast. As I’d glanced around the kitchen that was too small for her to run her baking business from, I realized that she didn’t even have a mixer. She mixed everything by hand.

“I will ice it,” she replied with amazing calm. “Let me put some cookies in the oven first. Callie likes the smell of them baking.” She shrugged, sadness cascading down over her false smile. “I like the smell. It soothes me.”

Understanding, I nodded. “Do what you need to do. Then ice.”

Sloane’s mouth curled at the corners, and I tried not to stare at it.

For the next ten minutes, I leaned against the door, watching her work. I catalogued the things she didn’t have but reckoned a professional baker needed. She chattered as she baked, telling me about Flora’s proposal, about Callie’s excitement over her martial arts lessons. I listened and nodded so she’d know I was paying attention.



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