Melancholy

“The basement.” I giggle.

“The basement?” Ash squeals. “Where?”

“Against the wall. God, it was hot. He was so angry at me, it was kind of like make-up sex . . .”

Indi fans herself. “Oh boy, I can just imagine. Give us a mental image now.”

“He had been punching the boxing bag. No shirt, lots of sweat.”

“Swooooon!” Petra groans. “Maddox is fine.”

“And his . . .” Indi says, wiggling her eyebrows.

I share a look with Ash, so much passing between us. She knows what Maddox packs, and at the thought my chest clenches. I have to let it go, it isn’t her fault, but it still hurts like hell when I think of it. She gives me a sympathetic expression, but I decide I’m not going to let it affect me, not today.

“It’s huge.” I laugh, glancing at Indi. “I mean . . . whoa!”

They all squeal just as Mack emerges from the basement, sweaty, shirtless, and panting. We all stop and stare at him. Holy hell, Mack is fine. All that lean muscle, no markings on his gorgeous olive skin . . . His pants are dipped low, showing us a nice V. He narrows his eyes at us, and I whistle at him, a big, loud, wolf whistle. “Chief, you fine!”

He shakes his head, walking past us.

“Holy, he can paint my skin any time,” Indi calls out.

“He can paint me with his man juice,” Petra adds.

Mack grunts as he nears the stairs. He knows they’re joking.

“Come and play with us, Chief,” I call out.

“Go away, brat.”

“Aw, he’s still angry that he’s babysitting.”

He glances at me over his shoulder. “I’ve just listened to you describe my brother’s cock, and how he fucked you in the room I was just in . . . pretty fuckin’ sure that’s enough to scar me for life.”

I laugh. He shakes his head and disappears up the stairs.

“Damn,” Petra says focusing on the task at hand. “He’s fine.”

“Agreed,” Ash says. “I’ve never seen a Native American man look that good. All that muscle and olive skin . . .”

“And his hair!” Indi sighs. “Jealous.”

“Right!” We all say it at once, then burst into yet another fit of giggles.

We continue our beauty treatments right into the afternoon, when Mack’s little present arrives. Maddox had Austin bring over one of the club whores. Ew. Seriously. Not that I can argue, poor Mack has been stuck listening to girl crap for hours, and it’s sending him over the edge.

“Ugh, of course you bitches have to be here.”

Ah, Sandra. She’s the club whore who gets into more fights than it’s worth, because of her big mouth. The only reason the guys keep her around is because apparently she’s a wild cat in bed. Gross. She sashays in, her tiny hips swinging as she walks into the kitchen and picks up a bottle of wine, popping the top and taking a drink.

I stand, walking over and snatching it out of her hand. “Ew, get your mouth off my wine.”

“Fuck you, Santana. Maddox invited me here, so you don’t get to say what I do.”

“He invited you here to get your ass pounded because Mack is bored.”

She grins. “He invited me here because I fuck like a God damned warrior.”

I laugh, loudly. “Seriously? A warrior?”

She crosses her arms. She’s actually a pretty enough girl, she’s just got a disgusting attitude. Her pale blue eyes and honey-colored hair compliment her fair skin. She’s got . . . ahem . . . enhancements in her breasts, making her look curvier then her short five-foot frame really is. Today she’s wearing a tiny bikini top and a short skirt. I suppose she doesn’t really need anymore, it’s only going to come off.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Mack says, coming into the kitchen.

“Gee, Chief, good choice,” I point out. “Warrior here should keep you entertained for a few hours.”

He gives me a confused expression, while Sandra glares at me. “You’ve got a bad attitude, Santana,” she spits.

I laugh. “Aw, I’m sorry, is my bad attitude offending you? Why don’t you go lie on Mack’s bed with your legs apart. After all, it’s the only reason you’re here.”

“Oh, I’ll be doing that. And you’ll be hearing me scream while he fucks me, because,” she curls herself around Mack, “didn’t you know . . . the Indian fucks good.”

My mouth drops open. Nobody . . . nobody calls Mack an Indian. His jaw ticks, but he says nothing.

“Seriously, Chief?” I say, my mouth open. “You’re going to let her insult you.”

He steps forward, flicking her off before curling his hand around the back of my neck. “I’ve been listenin’ to shit for hours now, I’m pissed off, I’m horny, and I couldn’t care if she came in dressed like a God damned Indian princess to impress me. I’m goin’ to take her upstairs, fuck her a few times, and throw her ass out. End of story.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He grins at me.

Then he lets me go and takes hold of Sandra’s arm. “Move it.”

She flicks me a smile before disappearing up the stairs with him. Ew. I join the girls again, and we pop our second bottle of wine.

“She’s such a . . . tramp . . .” Indi mutters.

I laugh loudly. “Indi, honey . . .” There are more giggles from the girls. “I think that’s the point.”