By Lucius Shepard
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Extra info for The Golden
I am not a lord! ” “You aremy lord,” she said. “I cannot recall who it was fled from you that night in the streets of Montparnasse, but it was not I. That woman hated you, feared you. ” These words stung Beheim more painfully than had her entreaties, and he held her tightly, caressing her hair, her waist and flanks. Before long, though this had not been his intent, she responded to his attentions with caresses of her own. ” It was neither her eagerness nor the ripeness of her body that inspired him to make love to her, but rather his desire to do the human thing, to keep alive that measure of humanity remaining to him.
With a faltering step, she came a few paces back toward him. Her clasped hands twisted at her waist, and she displayed symptoms of arousal: Her lips parted, cheeks flushed. Her stare spurred his hunger to new heights. Against reason, his restraint crumbling, he started forward. Yet before he could reach the girl, a hand caught his shoulder and yanked him back. Furious at being thwarted, he spun about, prepared to strike, but the sight of Agenor’s stony face and the force of those luminous black eyes quelled his anger, and he understood what a gross breach of propriety he had committed.
He imagined that should they ever lie down together, a tangle of limbs far more complicated than that achieved by any ordinary coupling would result—a Gordian knot of living white ropes whose contorted heaving would resemble the writhing of a nest of worms. “The Patriarch did not appoint you to investigate the murder because of your skill at detection,” she went on. “He is wiser than that. Surely even you must understand that given the time allotted for a solution and the character of those you must investigate, you have little hope of success.
The Golden by Lucius Shepard