Peccatum in Carne: Sins of the Flesh (The Three Sins of Mallory Moore Book 1)

by Coco Mingolelli

  Dawn frowned, as she knew that the doctor's words were truthful, and looked around the foyer once more. Mallory had told her about how she and her father James had danced here many a happy time when she was a child. It looked so bare and cold now.

  She walked a circle in the room, her arms swinging back and forth. Dawn tried to imagine what it had looked like in all its glory, filled with warm hugs, and Mallory's laughter. Her hand flipped a switch on the wall, illuminating a dusty, cobweb streaked chandelier.

  Closing her eyes, she began to spin around the space in dance movements she remembered from ballet classes as a child. If she tried hard enough, maybe the house would feel loved. Maybe it wouldn't feel so empty.

  So engrossed in her dancing, she did not notice when Dr. Sheehan began to play the most beautifully mournful music from her phone into the silence. It felt rather like the house was speaking to her through song.

  'I am lonely,' the house cried when the violin played.

  'I am here,' the piano told the violin as she spun around, over and over.

  Hands stretched towards the ceiling, she arched her back during a particularly long pull of the violin's bow, her body becoming an extension of the music flowing through the air.

  A cool, clammy hand clasped hers as she spun near the stairs, and Dawn gasped. Mallory's tearful eyes stared at her in rapt fascination.

  "Don't stop, amare," she entreated. "Dance with me?"

  Dawn nodded, a bright smile warming her cheeks. It was contagious; even Mallory managed a bittersweet mirror of it as she brought a hand to Dawn's back, and nudged her back into motion. They danced, feet barely touching the marble floor as they held each others gaze.

  The room whirled around them, and Dawn began to feel lightheaded. Perhaps she was overtired, or maybe she had made the revolution around the foyer one too many times, but she didn't care. All that existed was a verdant glow that grew as time passed – those green eyes that looked so longingly at her – sparkling like peridots swirled with topaz in the luminescence of the chandelier. Until –

  "Are you still taping, Stella?" Margaret whispered from the edge of the room.

  Dawn probably wasn't supposed to be listening, but she did anyway.

  "Yes, but why? I don't see how it's relevant to the case..." the constable murmured back.

  Dr. Sheehan gestured towards them as they slowed, still twirling around the room. "I may be a psychologist, Stella, but I am a romantic. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone that does not see that they just fit. Always document beauty in the world, Detective. It's so rarely seen."

  The detective constable shifted her stance, uncomfortable with the assessment, and pursed her lips.

  The doctor shook her head and held up the phone that still played the music gently. “Dawn Rose was born to love Mallory Moore."

  _____________________________________

  They lazed under the blankets of a nearby the hotel, begging off the long drive back to Middlesbrough.

  Mallory was both physically and emotionally exhausted, and Dawn had insisted that they would make their own way back in the morning. Of course, Dr. Sheehan and DC Stewart had insisted they stay with them, renting a room a few doors down. All were weary, as far as Mallory could tell, and glad for the respite.

  Dawn sat up and shrugged out of her clothes to lay back down, fitting herself into the valley between Mallory's shoulder and neck as she curled around her. She kissed the bare skin there, Mallory having divested of her clothing long ago.

  She inhaled sharply when Dawn kissed her collarbone, and then looked upwards to make sure that she was alright.

  Her face flushed with need, and a queer feeling akin to shame. Mallory ignored the latter feeling, and wriggled down to press their lips together insistently.

  Dawn leaned back, sliding a hand up her torso, and pushed her away gently. "You're tired..." she implored. “You need to sleep."

  "What I need is to feel something other than... this pain," Mallory huffed, impatient to quell the intangible emotion taking up residence in her mind. "I need you, Dawn."

  Quirking her lips, Dawn looked thoughtful. Her hand came up to cup Mallory's face, and rubbed her thumb over a cheekbone. "What do you dream of? Not the nightmares, but... good dreams?"

  The answer was quick. "You."

  Mallory didn't need to think on that.

  Dawn laid her head back down, and her fingertips traced light patterns onto Mallory's stomach. "I dream of you, too. When... When I was still just your student, I had this crazy dream," she laughed.

  Goosebumps left a trail where Dawn had drawn lines that felt like fire curling in Mallory's gut. It was helping, the awful gnawing was beginning to go away. "Tell me?"

  Blushing furiously, Dawn laid her palm flat. "Um, there was a mirror. I could see myself, and you were behind me. And uhh..." Embarrassment crept up her neck along with the blush, but she finished telling Mallory about the dream. "You were touching me, and speaking Latin. Then, you asked me to touch you. Begged me, really."

  A yawn, followed by the clearing of her throat. "What did I say?"

  “I can barely remember the words,” Dawn said, but she tried. "The one I recall the most is 'Diligunt me et te in conspectum.' Love thyself in..."

  "View of me," Mallory finished, hugging her close. "How apt, considering there was a mirror. I can tell that you hadn't partaken of too many tutoring sessions yet. Bad form," she whispered into the shell of her little supernova's ear.

  "Don't tease!" Dawn exclaimed, crabby at what she thought was a joke.

  Mallory's arms loosened as she ran her palms up and down Dawn's back. "I assure you, amare. I would never tease you for that."

  Her heart warming with the honesty in the words – or at least Mallory hoped – Dawn kissed at her neck again. After a time, Mallory wiggled up the bed, so that the next kisses laid over the curve of her breast.

  The hands that had so innocently soothed the skin of Dawn's back earlier curled inwards and dragged sharp nails upwards. Mallory liked to watch the pink trails left in her hands' wake.

  Pulling away quickly, Dawn sat up.

  The wounded, shameful feeling was back. Mallory closed her eyes.

  "No! No, I want you," Dawn reassured her. "It's just... Quomodo dicas 'make love,' in Latine?" How do you say 'make love,' in Latin?

  An awed expression came over Mallory then, her lips hanging open slightly for a few moments before they pressed together to stop them from trembling. "Volo vobis amare. I want to love on you. The actual translation isn't very... romantic."

  Straddling her supine body, Dawn reached back to move Mallory's hands to her hips before repeating the words back. "Volo vobis amare?"

  All that Mallory could do as she viewed the beautiful creature atop her was choke out a strangled noise, and nod once. The angel leaned down to pepper kisses sweetly across her face, followed by her neck. Shimmying down, her stella ardens – her little supernova – laid the lightest nips along her breasts before loving upon her peaking nipples, earning a breathy moan.

  Dawn's eyes burned bright as a moonlit sky at the noise, and she moved down even further to lick and nip at the places she had only elicited gooseflesh from earlier, while grazing fingernails along Mallory's hipbones.

  Rosy lips came up for air to warn her. "I'm going to –"

  "Yes?" Mallory sighed, both a question and permission.

  As those lips descended upon her most sensitive flesh, Mallory could look no longer, and threw her head back into the pillows with a gasp.

  Chapter 16: MMIV (2004)

  Dawn was warm. Safe, and protected, and... hot?

  No matter, she decided. It was August, after all.

  Wandering the space in her mind between dreams and wakefulness was a blissful retreat often denied as of late, so she relished in it. She wanted to stay here forever, and began to beg her mind to stay asleep just a little bit longer. There wasn't anyone here but her, and Mallory.

  There were no curious stares of th
e townsfolk as she and Detective Stewart visited the drug store to pick up brown hair dye. There was no Father, or the worry of how Isla was faring with the cousins in Scotland, and there wasn't the constant violation of their privacy because of the court case.

  The conscious part of her recognized the gentle swells of breasts as they brushed against her back, and the pressure of strong arms pulling her closer still. It was becoming stifling under the sheets, but she ignored it in favor of letting her lover's sleepy, whimpering breaths remind her of the night at the hotel. Dawn's mind picked up on the request, and granted the memory swiftly, along with pleasant glimpses of related ones.

  Mallory's face flashed behind her eyes – that one she would make as she came apart; the stoic and dignified face screwed up into a silent scream as her long, brown hair splayed around her head on the pillow. The quick, panting moans that slid over the woman's plump lips as Dawn's hand moved over her pussy, fingers drenched in warmth. The bare, pale lips that said her name like a novena, chanting it over and over again.

  The lips turned red. 'Gotcha...' they whispered into her ear.

  Dawn's nipples hardened at the memory of the word, and her brain warred with two corresponding memories. It went back and forth between the smell of earthy woods, and when long fingers had wrapped themselves around her wrists and pulled them upwards, sharply. That had been an interesting night; her hands bound together with the satiny tie from a dressing gown.

  Mallory had been snippy as of late – a long, unsuccessful interview at the station offices with the detectives had left both the duty prosecutor on the case upset, and Mallory even more so.

  Still, a small smile curled on Dawn's lips in her sleepiness as she remembered the result of the bad mood.

  Control, it was always about control. She would gladly give it over to Mallory if it meant that responsibility was no longer hers, but Dawn knew better.

  Mallory would never let her shirk duty, and was elated when the scores for Dawn's A-Levels finally arrived in the mail two days ago.

  She had even picked Dawn up by the waist and swung her around the kitchen, crowing about like a proud hen. “You can go to any university that you wish with these scores!”

  Somehow, with all the stress going on, Dawn managed to score A's across the board.

  Dawn how surprisingly defeated she felt when Mallory mentioned going off to university, and how she had pouted. Picking up quickly on the source of her sadness, Mallory had put her down and cupped her cheeks lovingly. “Oh, my silly amare. Wherever you will go, I will go too.”

  For all of her idyllic daydreaming, Dawn could not ignore the sharp bite of fingernails digging into her hip, or a leg as it slid up and over hers. Her eyelids fluttered open in the early morning light, and she wriggled her bum back against Mallory's writhing.

  "Mmm, yeah?" she asked, still sleepy.

  A groan answered her, echoing the silence. Then, the chattering of teeth.

  Worried by that noise, Dawn wiggled away, and turned over. Brown hair was everywhere – tangled over Mallory's face like she had been tossing and turning all night. But, it looked damp. That wasn't right at all. Dawn very clearly remembered it being blow dried after their shower last night.

  A rasping cough broke through Mallory's dry, chapped lips. Her teeth clacked together again, and Dawn realized why she had been so warm all evening. Pressing a hand against what she now saw was a sweaty brow, she brushed the hair out of her girlfriend's face.

  Mallory was burning hot.

  "Christ on a cracker," she said, worried about what to do. This must be from all the stress they had been under. It was a rare night when Mallory could be coaxed into bed lately, and now she had fallen sick. “I'll be right back.”

  Dawn stumbled into the bathroom to fish around in the cabinets, thinking about where the thermometer would be kept. Minutes flew by as pills, cold remedies, bobby pins, hair ties, lipsticks, first aid supplies, and even a bottle of unused multivitamins fell into the sink as she searched. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

  The noise of kitchen cabinets being opened and slammed shut startled her, and Dawn snapped the medicine cabinet shut, too. She rushed into the bedroom, only to be met with an empty bed, blankets half dragged onto the floor.

  The sound of glass shattering echoed from downstairs.

  Flying down the stairwell, Dawn was met with the sight of a very nude, and seemingly lost woman standing in the middle of a pile of glass.

  Mallory's hand was held out from her side, blood dripping from a gash in her palm. "I just wanted some water," she said, and coughed again.

  Dawn grabbed the broom from the closet to sweep up the glass. As she did so, the bare legs at the epicenter of the broken shards knocked together nervously.

  Looking up to Mallory's face, Dawn was uneasy at the expression she found: Bewilderment. Pure, unadulterated confusion.

  Mallory moved weight from one foot to the other. "I couldn't find the cups."

  "They're right where they always are, above the sink and to the right." Dawn shook her head, nervous that Mallory couldn't remember something so simple.

  Mallory merely nodded as if that was a logical answer, and licked at her dry lips. "Sorry. If I'd known I had company, I would have dressed." She eyed Dawn sweeping the last of the small fragments of glass into a the dustpan after she disposed of the larger pieces.

  Unfortunately, the sweeping had smeared the drops of red blood all over the tile floor in a dragging motion. It made Dawn queasy, so she looked back to Mallory. She knew about febrile delirium from her studies, but had never actually seen it in person. It was frightening, but Dawn knew that the best thing to do was act normal.

  "Oh! You know me. It's alright."

  Without care for the gash on her hand that was still bleeding, Mallory put the hand on her hip, and made quite the pose. She even raised her eyebrows seductively. "I know you, do I?"

  "Um, yes. Of course you do. We've been dating for two months now, Mallory," Dawn choked out, becoming queasy again at the sight of crimson dripping down Mallory's thigh like wax from a lit candle. "Can you just...? Let's get you to the couch, okay?"

  "What did you just call me?" Mallory interrupted, her face suddenly furious. "Now I am sure you don't know me. Why are you in my apartment? Why are my things moved around?"

  'Apartment?' Dawn was even more confused. Mallory must have absolutely no idea where she was, or what year. That meant that her fever was above 41º. She needed to call for help, and fast. The last thing she needed was for the detective parked outside to come in because an ambulance showed up, though. DS John Reid was on shift, and the man was by far Mallory's least favorite 'babysitter.'

  "Hey, okay. Look, I'm going to ring the hospital... for your hand. It might need stitches," she said softly, hoping to distract Mallory. Far taller and stronger than Dawn, if she got too agitated, this wouldn't end well.

  "No. No hospital," Mallory spat, her teeth clicking as a shiver overtook her body. Her feet took one step to the side, and then another. “I need to hide, there's so much blood. I need to hide!”

  Edging around Dawn, she darted up the stairs without another word, scrambling with haste. Mallory couldn't hide her grunts of pain as her injured hand slapped at the stair treads and balustrade, but hide she did.

  Never so glad for not put away her laundry from last night, Dawn shrugged a tee shirt and shorts on before grabbing the cordless phone from the kitchen wall. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the digits corresponding to the correct contact on her mobile, which was upstairs with Mallory.

  "07942," she whispered, her fingers smashing at the digits as she spoke. "904...129." The line began to ring, and Dawn's fingers drummed on the kitchen wall. "Please, pick up. Pick up."

  _____________________________________

  Dawn stood outside at the top of the drive, fidgeting until she saw the blue SUV rumble towards the house.

  She hadn't known who to call but Elisabeth, and though Mallory's erstwhile best friend sound
ed more than a little pissed to receive the summons, she promised to come quickly. Having been outside for the better part of a half hour, Dawn was hungry, sweaty, and scared. It sounded like Mallory was breaking things inside.

  As the SUV parked with an angry jerk, Dawn's former teacher exited the cab. She lingered by the driver's side door after slamming it shut, and stared at the cottage like it held a pit of snakes.

  Elisabeth crossed her arms, and nodded sharply towards Dawn. "Well, I'm here," she muttered. “What a fine fucking mess.”

  Stepping out of the passenger door with a hop, Claudia slung a medical bag over one shoulder. "Don't be so damn bitter," she stage whispered. "It's my fault that you two ever fight."