Graham Joyce by Indigo

Author:Indigo [Indigo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-17T05:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

“THE YOUNG ITALIAN ARTIST ANNAMARIA ACCURSO SLIT HER wrists at midnight on February fifteenth. The American, Nicholas Chadbourne, vanished from his apartment the same evening.”

“You have a mind that purrs,” said Natalie. “And it never stops.”

“I looked into it,” said Jack.

Bright sunlight was bleeding through the gap in the heavy blue velvet curtains. It was their second day in bed together. Natalie lay on her stomach. Sheets tangled her thigh, winding her damp waist like ivy or honeysuckle. Her head was buried in the pillows, her hair spilling across the sheets. They were drenched. It was like the aftermath of an atrocity. The room hung heavy with the smoke of fuck and sweat run cold, cloying like mayflower in its scent, opalescent where the light struck. They were doped on each other.

Jack lay propped on his elbows, tracking a shining bead of perspiration along Natalie’s flank. Her skin flamed in the light, tanned, smooth, and lustrous, and on her shoulder was the small tattoo he’d always known he’d find there: the spectrum—not a rainbow, but a lightning bolt surrounded by six tiny stars. There were only six colors.

In the middle of the night he’d bitten that tattoo. Natalie, hoisting herself up on her knees, pressing her head into the pillows and grasping the iron bedstead with her arms spread, inviting him to take her from behind. Already sore from lovemaking, squeezing inside her, pushing hard against her aggressively offered buttocks until she breathed his name and bit the pillow; nipping the tattoo between his teeth, almost as if he could strip it from her shoulder. She triggered dark appetites. For a moment he lost all sense of himself before releasing her from his wolf bite.

“The point is,” Jack said, “that these two people had one thing in common.”

“Amaze me,” Natalie said sleepily.

“My father. Tim Chambers.”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong? Why wrong?”

“You asked what they’d got in common. It wasn’t your father; at least not just your father. What’s the significance of the date?”

“February fifteenth? What’s that?”

“Lupercalia.” Natalie drew herself up. Sex had relaxed her features and her beatific face had a dark radiance. “The feast of Lupercalia.”

Jack blinked, waiting for an explanation. Instead she laid her elegant hands on his shoulders. Locking her fingers in his hair, she pulled herself to him. Her tongue probed his mouth, carefully at first, then recklessly as she craned herself onto his lap. Her mouth tasted of sleep and last night’s wine, and rainwater slightly saline, and berries and litchis and citrus, but through it all the odor of her sex overwhelmed him. He could taste it even on her kiss. Something mineral in it daunted and excited him. She bit his lip, holding the flesh of it between her teeth without puncturing the skin; she slid her silky tongue across the hard palate to the soft. She dropped her hands to his cock, squeezing it, stretching it, pumping him double-handed. He was sure he had nothing left. He’d already flensed himself inside her, left a layer of skin behind, but this voracious woman was ready for more.

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