Tristan's Loins Read Online Free Page B

more.
    "Ladies don't speak thusly, Only Selene,"
Tristan admonished as he heard her, frowning. "Where have you
been?"
    "None of your damn business," Selene snapped.
"I have a life, Tristan. I don't devote every minute to writing
about you."
    Tristan grinned as he sat at the table,
munching on the food there. "It's obvious I’m still trapped in this
same room. So much for me getting home."
    Selene muttered as she set down her notebook.
"You will get there. Relax. Don't you have anything to occupy
you?"
    Tristan chuckled and got up. He opened the
door to his chamber to reveal a black abyss outside the door. "No,
apparently I cannot leave until you see fit to write me out of
here."
    "How did the girl get out?"
    "She was able to go. I was not. Trust me, I
tried."
    "I don't understand," Selene said and shook
her head in confusion. "She walked out of the room, but you cannot?
It makes no sense."
    Tristan looked bored. "You’re the writer; you
tell me."
    Selene knew she suffered from some sort of
psychosis. "I don't know how this all works yet, so how can I tell
you that?"
    "Only Selene, I grow quite bored. Do you
think you could write me on my way home today?"
    "My name is Selene," she said tightly, "one
word that is it."
    "Much better," Tristan remarked with a smile.
"Now how do you propose to go back and make these changes?"
    Selene frowned. "I need only erase what I
have written and write in a replacement scene."
    Tristan smiled widely, displaying perfect
dimples. "Might I make some suggestions?"
    "Such as?"
    "You could make Rhiannon friendlier to me,"
Tristan said with a slight leer. "I like larger breasts on a woman
too."
    "Ok, enough," Selene said sourly. He chuckled
in delight. "You’re as bad as the men in my world, always picking a
woman apart and finding her lacking. What is so wrong with Rhiannon
the way she is?"
    Tristan pushed away from the table and stood,
his hands clasped behind his back. "Where do I start?"
    Selene gasped in outrage. "She is quite
beautiful! What could you possibly find wrong with her?"
    Tristan frowned. "Yes, she is quite perfect
to look at, I agree. You have made her lovely, but she has no depth
or character to her. Always whining and crying, telling me she
hates me, and then she looks at me as though she wants to kill me
most of the time. The rest of the time, she acts like we are all
her servants."
    "You did kill her father," Selene reminded
him. "How do you think she would react to you?"
    "You will rewrite all of that, Selene,"
Tristan commanded and gazed upward with a look that brooked no
refusal. "She is to be my wife. I would not want to start out this
way."
    Selene bristled at his tone. "That will take
time too. You’re talking about me starting all over again. That is
almost one hundred and fifty pages!"
    "I do not care. It appears I only exist
because you made it so. I would have it as close to perfect as it
can be," he replied testily. "I have another request of you."
    "What is that?" Selene was almost afraid to
ask.
    "I have done much thinking," Tristan
disclosed tightly. "Your book, the whole plot; it makes no
sense."
    "What do you mean it makes no sense?"
    "You said Stephen and my mother were in love
before she married my father," he said stiffly. "That was his
reason to kill my father, only she was accidentally killed instead
with poisoned wine. I can live with that. I would ask you to
refrain in taking away what little I have to be proud. Knowing that
man sired me will not make it easy for me to kill him as we both
know I must."
    Selene thought about what he said, reasoning
he was right. It was not necessary for Stephen de Montfort to be
his father. She took notes during the conversation, agreeing with
him.
    "Fine, consider it done. Anything else?"
    "Rewrite the girl completely," Tristan had a
naughty grin. "I would have less strife in my life and much more
pleasure. I want a willing, hot-blooded wench, Selene. Your frigid
shrinking virgin does nothing for me!"
    "But strife