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An Excerpt From: WINDCHASER
 Copyright CHARLOTTE BOYETT-COMPO, 2008.
All Rights Reserved, XXXXXXXX
Thoroughly disgusted by his behavior, Mac made his way to his quarters before he let loose the angry howl that had been pushing at his throat. He shouldn't have agreed to allow Ione to service him. She had wound up hurting him—as he should have known she would—and he was revolted that he had enjoyed the pain she'd handed him. He wondered if there was something really wrong with him that he could come so hard and long and satisfyingly while being tortured.
Once the doors shushed to and he was alone, he arched back his head to let rip the howl. The overhead lights rattled in their stanchions as the roar erupted. Hands on hips, he unleashed another furious yowl then lowered his head to his chest, panting with the rage that was rippling through him. He ignored the vid-com chime that heralded a visitor at his door. When it came again he bellowed for whoever it was to, "Go away!"
"Mac, open the door."
The words were calm, softly spoken but filled with no-nonsense.
Lifting his head, Mac glared at the vid-com screen and the beautiful face staring back at him.
"No. Go. Away," he said, stressing each word from between clenched teeth.
There was a brief pause, an intake of breath, then, "When you screwed up my life on Meiriceá…"
"Open!" he hissed at the vid-com, cutting her off. As soon as the titanium door peeled back into its slot, he spun around and stalked into the galley, snatching a bottle of Chalean brandy from the counter. Not even bothering with a glass, he took the bottle with him to the plush leather sofa and plopped down, popping the glass stopper from the bottle with a flick of his thumb. He tilted the bottle back and took a very unhealthy swig of the fiery gold liquor, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth afterwards.
"Is your intent to get bricked as you Terrans say?" she inquired, taking a seat demurely across from him on the love seat.
"The word is plastered and yeah, I do!" He swilled another gulp, eyes watering as the liquid burned a path down his throat.
"Very adult of you," she said as she brought her legs up to tuck them beneath her. She rested an arm along the back of the loveseat. "As has been every wild affair, every occasional screwing, every…"
"What's your point?" he snarled.v
"Since you and I became lovers I have counted thirty-nine women you have nailed, MacKirnan, and that's just the ones I know about."
"It's been fifty-three since you're keeping count," he informed her after taking another long pull on the brandy.
"It's a wonder you haven't screwed your dangly to the nub," she mumbled, "or garnered a particularly nasty disease."
"Again. What's your point?"
"How many times have I snapped at you for your indiscretions?"
"Is that what we're calling them?" he asked, a lopsided grin on his face. "How polite."
"Would you rather I called them what they truly are?" she countered.
"I know what they are, Celine."
"So do I but I imagine my take on them is far different than your own."
"And that would be what exactly?"
"The randy exploits of a spoiled, conceited little snot who equates being able to screw any woman who'll let him as being a conquest when all it is is a pathetic cry to be loved."
She was looking at him with a gentle expression on her face but it was a look that enraged him.
v"Screw you," he told her.
"Not ever again," she stated, her chin going up. "You've screwed me for the last time."
To give Celine her due, she didn't even flinch when he hurled the half-empty bottle of brandy across the room and sprang off the sofa like a weretiger. His hard fingers bit into the soft flesh of her upper arms as he bodily lifted her from the love seat to toss her to her back upon the sofa. The sound of her clothing ripping as he grabbed the two sides of her blouse to tear it apart was not nearly as loud as the powerful slap she aimed at his cheek, snapping his head to the side.
"Not. Ever. Again!" she said. Her eyes flared with lethal intent and when he turned his head to look down at her, she did not so much as blink upon seeing the fury sparking in his narrowed gaze.
"You belong to me," he said, lips peeled back from his teeth. "To no one else but me."
"Just as Ione and Laran and Crystal and now Jade and Bella belong to you?" she countered.
"Damned straight!" he declared. "And when I want you, baby, I'll have you!"
"Not. Ever. Again."
"Stop saying that!" he shouted, face red with anger.
"I've shared your bed with all those other women and never said a word about it but I'll never share it again," she said. "Never again."
He opened his mouth to scream at her but the gleam in her eye told him nothing he said, nothing he did would move her. Celine Belial had taken a stand and when she did, nothing could deter her from her decision.
Thoroughly disgusted by his behavior, Mac made his way to his quarters before he let loose the angry howl that had been pushing at his throat. He shouldn't have agreed to allow Ione to service him. She had wound up hurting him—as he should have known she would—and he was revolted that he had enjoyed the pain she'd handed him. He wondered if there was something really wrong with him that he could come so hard and long and satisfyingly while being tortured.
Once the doors shushed to and he was alone, he arched back his head to let rip the howl. The overhead lights rattled in their stanchions as the roar erupted. Hands on hips, he unleashed another furious yowl then lowered his head to his chest, panting with the rage that was rippling through him. He ignored the vid-com chime that heralded a visitor at his door. When it came again he bellowed for whoever it was to, "Go away!"
"Mac, open the door."
The words were calm, softly spoken but filled with no-nonsense.
Lifting his head, Mac glared at the vid-com screen and the beautiful face staring back at him.
"No. Go. Away," he said, stressing each word from between clenched teeth.
There was a brief pause, an intake of breath, then, "When you screwed up my life on Meiriceá…"
"Open!" he hissed at the vid-com, cutting her off. As soon as the titanium door peeled back into its slot, he spun around and stalked into the galley, snatching a bottle of Chalean brandy from the counter. Not even bothering with a glass, he took the bottle with him to the plush leather sofa and plopped down, popping the glass stopper from the bottle with a flick of his thumb. He tilted the bottle back and took a very unhealthy swig of the fiery gold liquor, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth afterwards.
"Is your intent to get bricked as you Terrans say?" she inquired, taking a seat demurely across from him on the love seat.
"The word is plastered and yeah, I do!" He swilled another gulp, eyes watering as the liquid burned a path down his throat.
"Very adult of you," she said as she brought her legs up to tuck them beneath her. She rested an arm along the back of the loveseat. "As has been every wild affair, every occasional screwing, every…"
"What's your point?" he snarled.v
"Since you and I became lovers I have counted thirty-nine women you have nailed, MacKirnan, and that's just the ones I know about."
"It's been fifty-three since you're keeping count," he informed her after taking another long pull on the brandy.
"It's a wonder you haven't screwed your dangly to the nub," she mumbled, "or garnered a particularly nasty disease."
"Again. What's your point?"
"How many times have I snapped at you for your indiscretions?"
"Is that what we're calling them?" he asked, a lopsided grin on his face. "How polite."
"Would you rather I called them what they truly are?" she countered.
"I know what they are, Celine."
"So do I but I imagine my take on them is far different than your own."
"And that would be what exactly?"
"The randy exploits of a spoiled, conceited little snot who equates being able to screw any woman who'll let him as being a conquest when all it is is a pathetic cry to be loved."
She was looking at him with a gentle expression on her face but it was a look that enraged him.
v"Screw you," he told her.
"Not ever again," she stated, her chin going up. "You've screwed me for the last time."
To give Celine her due, she didn't even flinch when he hurled the half-empty bottle of brandy across the room and sprang off the sofa like a weretiger. His hard fingers bit into the soft flesh of her upper arms as he bodily lifted her from the love seat to toss her to her back upon the sofa. The sound of her clothing ripping as he grabbed the two sides of her blouse to tear it apart was not nearly as loud as the powerful slap she aimed at his cheek, snapping his head to the side.
"Not. Ever. Again!" she said. Her eyes flared with lethal intent and when he turned his head to look down at her, she did not so much as blink upon seeing the fury sparking in his narrowed gaze.
"You belong to me," he said, lips peeled back from his teeth. "To no one else but me."
"Just as Ione and Laran and Crystal and now Jade and Bella belong to you?" she countered.
"Damned straight!" he declared. "And when I want you, baby, I'll have you!"
"Not. Ever. Again."
"Stop saying that!" he shouted, face red with anger.
"I've shared your bed with all those other women and never said a word about it but I'll never share it again," she said. "Never again."
He opened his mouth to scream at her but the gleam in her eye told him nothing he said, nothing he did would move her. Celine Belial had taken a stand and when she did, nothing could deter her from her decision.
"But…" he managed to say, feeling an unaccustomed prickle behind his eyes.
"I have shared you for the last time," she said. "You know how you felt when I touched Rune?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "That's how I felt every time you put a hand to Ione or Laran. Every time you went to their room or Crystal's. Every time I've seen your eyes following Jade and Bella. Every time you've come back to this ship smelling of another woman's perfume." She shook her head. "Never again, MacKirnan. Never again."
He was lying atop her with his lower body jammed between her thighs. Her blouse was open to expose her breasts for Celine never wore underwear of any kind. His gaze lowered to those warm, soft globes that were more than a handful for even a man the size of D. and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face between them. Slowly his attention lifted to her face.
"I love you," he said. It was not the first time he'd said it to her but he realized it was the first time he truly meant it.
"I know you do," she replied. "Just as you have loved every woman you've ever lain with."
"No," he said, his head move from side to side. "I mean it, Celine. I really love you."
She held his gaze. "Enough to give up every other woman in your harem?"
He knew he would have to abide by whatever answer he gave her. If he said no, she would be lost to him forever. He might force her, rape her—though he'd never taken a woman in that way ever before—but she would no longer belong to him. If he said yes, he would lose all chance of enjoying the pleasures other women might give.
"Weigh your answer very carefully, Mac," she warned.
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