Intaglio: The Snake and the Coins (38 page)

“Oh my God…”
Cole whispered, scalp crawling.

He tried to wrap
his head around the garish painting, the secrets it held.   
Underneath the glare of sunshine, images and shapes emerged, smears of pigment
and words hinting at another story entirely.  In the image, her face was
wild and angry, tears running down her cheeks.  Cole wasn’t sure how he
knew, but this painting was a confrontation to him.  He could almost feel
himself standing behind her, wobbling in place. 

‘Watching her
leave me behind…’

Cole’s footsteps
echoed in the studio as he moved, dreamlike, toward the makeshift canvas. 
It was raw fabric stapled directly to the wall – but that felt more fitting in
its dishabille than any stretched and gessoed board would ever have been. 
How could
anything else
have captured this explosion of fury?  His
chest constricted as Cole began to pick up bits and pieces of words.  Some
were curses, seething and angry.  Most were illegible, but one he could
pick out.

Kip Chambers.

He took an
involuntary step backward.  If someone had asked him, a moment before, how
he’d feel seeing, he would’ve answered fury… now, he was engulfed by pain at
seeing his name.  The painting bothered him more than he’d expected, left
him unexpectedly bereft… like he’d been wondering this all along, and now he
knew. 
‘She’s leaving me...’
a voice inside him whispered, the
words unlocking some secret in the narrative.  He knew what it
meant.  

Ava’d already
made her choice…

“I’ve uh… I’ve
gotta go, Ava,” Cole stammered.  “I… I can’t—”

Reeling with
unbridled emotions, he spun on his heel, but she stepped in front of him,
blocking his way.  She put her hands against his chest, holding him
steady.  They were both shaking.

“Don’t go,” she
whispered.

Ava’s eyes were
wide and red-rimmed; raw pain seethed under a mask of control.  Her lower
lip was caught between her teeth, her features sharp with anxiety. 

Terrified
.

He considered
pushing past her and heading down the stairs, but she was here with him... and
she was asking.

“O-okay...” he
whispered.  “But I need to know what… ” he said, nodding back (not even
looking at it), “
that
means.”

“It’s what I was
feeling, last night,” she said simply.  “I had to get it out.”

“Oh.”

Cole wasn’t sure
what else to say, so he waited, reacting physically to the image behind
him.  It was like driving past a car accident on the highway.  He
knew he shouldn’t, but part of him
wanted
to turn around and look at it,
to find more of what she’d written.  He didn’t dare.  Didn’t know if
he could manage it.  The image horrified him.  She’d made a
choice. 
‘She’s leaving!’ 
his mind kept screaming.

“I was pissed
off at Kip,” Ava began, pulling him out of his rioting thoughts, “that’s why I
was talking to him last night at the party...” 

She was
toe-to-toe with him, hands still resting against the lapels of his
jacket.  (Closer than she actually needed to be to have this conversation.) 
Cole took slow breaths, trying to quell his panic.  She was watching him,
eyes bright with worry.

“It’s… it’s
okay,” Cole muttered, not knowing what he was supposed to say, but knowing he
couldn’t
look at THAT anymore.
  “Y— you can talk to whoever you want to. 
I get that.  You’re right, Ava.” 

He closed his
eyes.  He could still see her running away, furious and crying.  The
image was sharper even than the painting, like he’d seen it somewhere.

‘Dreamed it
before.’

Opening his
eyes, he took a ragged breath that came out as a sob.

 “Ava, I’m
sorry.  I’ve gotta get out of—”

“It
is
okay that I was talking to Kip,” she interrupted, fingers tightening on his
coat, holding him steady, a single mooring for a boat tossed on the sea, “but
that’s not the only thing that was going on last night.  I was, um… 
I was looking for trouble.” She held his eyes and Cole was terrified.  “I
went in to
find
Raya Simpson.  I wanted a fight.  I was just
so fucking mad about the arrest.”

That, for some
reason, made total sense. Cole nodded, pulling the crumpled cheque from his
pocket.  He stared down at it in his fingers.  It felt like a hundred
years had passed since the moment in the bar.  He struggled to make sense
of what he was supposed to do with it.

‘Can’t look
back!  Can’t look at it!’

“Here...” he
said, pressing the paper into her hands.  “Raya said to give this to you.”

She nodded, but
didn’t even look at the cheque, just dropped it onto the table next to
them. 

“I went into the
back room of The Crown,” Ava continued, “and I was mad, Cole...
so fucking
mad!
  I would have started a fight with her...” 

One hand dropped
nervously to her hips, sitting there for a moment, then swinging out
again.  She was jumpy and unsettled, her body warring with unspoken emotions. 
“Kip saw me come in...” she said warily.  “He tried to talk to me, but I
was so angry, Cole... I was just yelling the whole time.”

Cole nodded, her
words slowly filtering through his panic like images in murky water.  He could
remember why he was angry last night... but the painting behind him scared
him.  In the morning light,
that
seemed more pressing. 
Everything else had faded in intensity.

“It’s okay,” he
repeated. “It’s okay…”

“When I ran into
you,” Ava continued, her hands fluttering down to wrap her waist as she shifted
nervously, “I’d just walked away from Kip... I
had,
Cole!  That’s
why I was running.  And it just...” she sighed, closing her eyes. 
“It just got out of hand.  Sorry.”

Cole took the
step forward and she met him halfway.  Their arms lost the natural grace
they’d always had, struggling to fit against one another.  Her hands moved
like wings over him before finally settling.  Ava tucked herself around
him, her arms sliding around his shoulders. 

“Sorry,” Cole
repeated, his face against the curtain of her hair.  He was glad that they
were facing away from the canvas.

“I’m sorry too,”
he said quietly.  “But I want to move past it... if we can.”

She lifted her
face, hesitant and almost shy.

“Yeah, I’d like
that.”

For a moment,
neither moved.  They stood, arms circling one another in her studio, the
balance between them shifting, but not quite tipped.  Ava moved closer,
lips brushing the edge of his jaw, her fingers sliding up to brush the hair at
the back of his collar.

It started out
softly, their mouths careful and wary, full of unspoken pain and fears. 
His hands moved slowly from her shoulders to the back of her head, holding her
steady as he kissed her, his tongue dipping into her mouth once, testing. 
Ava sighed, her hands shaking as they tangled in the fabric of his coat,
dragging him forward.  Desperate need began to surge under the hesitancy,
each kiss bringing it closer to the surface.

Cole moaned
against her mouth, his fingers tightening as he felt her tug at the zipper of
his coat.  Sliding his mouth sideways, he brushed past her cheek, heading
for her neck.  His hands were tight, holding her arched against him as he
trailed kisses down to her collarbone.  He found the pulse-point and paused
overtop for a moment, licking and sucking.  Ava began to squirm in his
arms, her fingers wheedling their way inside his coat to his shirt, then
tugging frantically to get it free.  Releasing her neck, he lifted his
mouth to hers, kissing her again.  There was no hesitancy this time. 

He pulled back
to look at her, eyes dark with passion.

“Can’t here,” he
muttered in frustration.

 “Why not?”

Ava turned away
from him, striding to the door of the studio, and locking it without a second
word.  When she returned, she settled down on the couch, pulling off her
clothes in reckless abandon.  In less than a minute she lay naked atop a
layer of coats and clothing, the cool air of the studio leaving her body
pebbled with gooseflesh.  Cole struggled with his own clothing, zippers
and buttons hindered by his haste.  A thousand fantasies that had sprung
up when posing nude for her, were playing out in the here and now.

Laying down atop
her, Cole grinned.  The sofa was short but plenty deep enough for them to
move.  Ava giggled and he leaned in, dropping a light kiss to her
lips.  She reached up to the back of the couch, pulling down a drop cloth
on top of them.  The fabric was stiff with paint and it ballooned and
snapped like the sails of a ship in the wind.  When it settled down, they
were hidden underneath, cut off from the rest of the world.   Ava
wiggled her way into a comfortable position, her hips bouncing against his and
Cole groaned in reaction.. 

“God, you feel
good,” she murmured, rubbing her face against the crook of his neck. 
“You’re so warm.”

He brushed the
hair back from her face, leaning in to kiss her again.  Ava moved into the
embrace, opening her lips against his.  Her tongue dipped into his mouth
for a moment, sweet and warm.  Cole had most his weight on his elbows, but
the feel of her wrapping around him – her legs sliding up to hitch around his
hips – was too much.  The desire was an ache, impossible to deny.  He
took a shuddering breath, forcing his hips to remain still while the kiss dragged
on, passion coiling deep inside him, ready to release. 

“Love you,” he
whispered, words strangled and hoarse. 

Ava’s eyes
fluttered open, and she put her hands to the side of his face, holding him
still.  Cole’s heart tightened at what he saw reflected in the depths.

“I love you
too...” she said quietly.  “And I don’t want you doubting that... okay?”

He nodded,
unable to talk.  Seeing her like this, after everything that had happened
with them, left him raw.  His throat ached with unshed tears, his chest
tight.  He shifted his weight sideways, letting his fingers roam down her
body, following the dip of her waist before pulling down to the triangle of
blonde curls.  The kiss deepened as Cole’s fingers began to tease. 
He circled in on the small nub of nerves, revelling in the feel of Ava’s legs
shuddering and jerking with each motion.

She gasped
against his mouth, breaking the embrace as her head tipped back against the
cushion.  Fighting his own need for release, Cole’s lips moved down her
neck.  His teeth grazed over her skin, not biting, but testing the
boundaries of pleasure and pain, leaving Ava moaning.  His fingers
increase their pace, dipping inside her, following the tune of her cries. 
His tongue circled one nipple before pulling it into his mouth to suckle
greedily and the n moving to the other.  Ava’s pants had grown until they
were rough sobs, Cole’s body jumping in time to her sounds. 

Unable to pull
Cole back up on top of her, Ava’s fingers became frantic, scoring over the skin
of his back and shoulders.  With a frustrated hiss, she dropped a hand
down, reaching between them and taking Cole in hand.  Bright flashes of
light begin to pulse behind Cole’s eyelids as she began to stroke, his control
wavering.

“God, Ava, I
need you,” he growled, placing one hand under a knee and pulling her
wide. 

He slid forward,
plunging into her in a single motion.  Her arms wrapped tight over his
shoulders, holding him near.  Cole set a steady pace, thrusting hard in
time to her cries.  His arm was shaking where he was holding himself up,
so he shifted sideways, the cushions giving slightly as he did.  Suddenly
he was grinding deep and hard against her, the sensation expanding like
wildfire.  Ava’s sweat-slicked body writhed beneath him, her legs wrapped tight
around his pumping hips.

“Faster,” she
moaned.  “Please, oh god, please Cole... keep going.”

Her voice grew
frantic as Cole struggled to comply, his body wavering on the precipice for a
moment, then two, then three... holding out for the moment when she would reach
the top with him.  He was still thrusting hard and steady when he felt the
first internal shudders as she broke around him, her body arching with
release.  Riding the ripples of her climax, Cole let himself be pulled
under, shuddering along with her, waves of ecstasy riding over them both.

He gasped,
falling slightly to the side, their bodies still joined.  The pounding of
blood in his ears was the sound of the surf.  They were wrapped together,
the paint-flecked sheet blocking them from the rest of the world, Ava’s
crumpled clothing underneath.  Somewhere, it seemed, he could hear sea
birds calling.

Breath slowing,
he opened his eyes to discover her watching him, bruised lips half-parted with
spent desire.  Spent and tired, the day’s events returned – the studio and
the fight and the painting.  Cole turned, catching the sight of the image
scrawled on the far wall. 

With her laying
warm in his arms, it was easier to see other aspects of it.  The shape of
men behind her, fighting –
‘me and Kip,’
his mind announced – the crowds
of people turning, the whispered words, written in angry scrawls.  This
painting was Ava last night… but it wasn’t her this morning.  She was
here.  She was real.  She was in his arms.