11. Lamb

Chapter Eleven

LAMB

G athering the necessary ingredients from the refrigerator, I set them out on the kitchen island, its shining surface reflecting a blurred image of my face.

My motions were practiced and fluid as I set each ingredient apart and pulled out the small dishes that went alongside them. I cracked the eggs into a glass bowl then pulled out the few slices of bread onto a plate, putting away each item before moving on to the next step.

I heard the pained gasp from across the room and paid it no mind. I made quick work of mixing the eggs as Ash hobbled across the floor towards the kitchen. I focused on the task at hand as she managed to lift herself onto the bar across the island. She sat hunched into her shoulders, eyes roaming all around me.

If she was looking for the evidence of last night’s rampage, she wouldn’t find it. It’d be hard to believe this was the same crime scene I’d returned home to. Not a single drop of sauce, a broken shell of pasta, or a shard of glass remained in sight. The scene was impeccable; even a fingerprint would be hard to find.

With a frown wove into her brows, she turned instead to the inductive hob, watching as I moved the eggs around the plate. “You can cook?”

I neglected the eggs and set the bread into the toaster. “I can. Though just making eggs hardly counts as cooking.”

“It is surprising, nonetheless …” Ash bobbed her head, a hand moving to push the wild strays of her mussed hair behind her ears. It still looked a million times better after I’d detangled it, but in just a few days, it had already begun to resemble its wild state.

“I own plenty of cookbooks.” I paused by the fridge, pulled out a water, and grabbed a packet of pills from the counter. I popped open the bottle, poured two painkillers into my hand and, after cracking the seal on the water, slid them, along with the bottle of water, across the counter.

Ash stared hard at me, seemingly unable to marry the idea of me and cookbooks. It took a while, but once abandoning the thought, she dropped her eyes to the counter, giving the proffered tablets a hesitant look.

“They’re painkillers,” I explained. “And water.”

Ash rolled her eyes before settling a pointed glare on me. “ And here I was, thinking it was poison .” The sarcasm rolled off her tongue and over my skin, an electric current rippling.

She popped the pills into her mouth and took a swig of water, a shiver running through her body.

“I’m making eggs,” I explained, lowering the heat. “It should be easy on your stomach.”

“Okay … Jekyll,” Ash murmured, casting a sensitive glare on the bottle of water again.

I collected a glass from one cupboard, setting it on the counter before moving to the other side of the kitchen. I unlocked the coded latch beneath the handle and opened the door tucked under where the stairs descended into the other room. Inside sat a compact cabinet filled with various bottles of alcohol.

“Of course,” Ash grumbled behind me, more sweet sarcasm rolling off her clever tongue. I masked the amusement threatening to reach my eyes. “Why did I not check under the stairs? That is where everyone keeps their alcohol. I am an idiot.”

“You’re talkative this morning,” I said instead, pouring half a glass of whiskey before sliding it across the bar. “Feeling better?”

“Not exactly,” Ash grumbled, a hand unconsciously reaching up to touch her head, a headache no doubt brewing there. “Besides, you are the one being weird.” She didn’t give me a chance to rescind my offer as she scooped up the glass of whiskey. “Is this not supposed to be the part where you shuffle me back into my prison, lock me up, and make sure I never escape ever again?”

“I think you and I can agree that didn’t work. Either time.” I pulled out a plate, the only one remaining in the cupboard, and dished her eggs and toast.

“I guess,” Ash said, her drink perched permanently against her bottom lip as she took small, savoring sips.

I set the dish in front of her with a knife and fork.

From the beginning, I’d barely seen Ash eat more than a bird. She’d pick at her food, a bit here and there. Even the food I’d brought had turned stone cold with no more than a bite taken from each. Ash was slim, but her body had gone to waste over time. And now, instead of the soft, straight lines to her body, she was scarily skinny, sharp bones protruding from her pale skin.

“Eat.” I pushed the plate further, discomfort ebbing in my chest as she gave the plate a wary eye. “Or I’ll spoon-feed you.”

Her gaze snapped to my face lightning-fast. “I thought you said that forcing me was not working?” she hissed, her drink parting from her mouth.

“This is this, and that is that.” I shrugged, raising a brow, daring her to challenge me. I was more than willing to take up the offer, and her opinion was the least of my worries when it came down to getting some nutrients into her body. In fact, a large part of me wanted her to, the fight stirring something unfamiliar deep inside.

Sensing something from me, Ash’s fire cooled as she looked back down at the plate. Her lips pinched into a tight line, hesitance crossing her expression. I couldn’t tell what she must have been seeing on my face, but one more glance up seemed to steel her resolve. She took a big swig of her whiskey, tongue darting out to catch an escaping drop from her lip. I traced the movement, desperate to copy it, but I knew the same honey-sweet taste would be absent from my own.

Armed with her knife and fork, she swept back her hair and gave the plate a challenging glare before setting to work.

Her slice struggled to fit on the fork as she worked at the edge of the bread. But she didn’t stop, nor did she hesitate as she slipped the small piece into her mouth.

I could see it was uncomfortable for her. Saw that the food probably tasted like cardboard as she worked to chew and swallow a piece that did not need as much effort as she was giving it. It was no testament to my cooking—I knew for a fact they’d be the best eggs in the town—but it reflected her harsh lifestyle and the poor conditions her body had become accustomed to.

As I watched her throat bob, some of that uncomfortable feeling in my chest shifted, untangling the tension and allowing me to relax as she ate each small morsel.

Escaping strands of hair slipped over her neck as she worked tediously on her food, the occasional glance flittering my way. I didn’t let myself slip up and kept my expression neutral each time I caught her eye. Anna’s misunderstanding came to mind, though I wasn’t sure I could call it a misunderstanding much longer.

I watched Ash cautiously eat tidbits of food, giving me flickering glances, resembling a small, feral kitten scooped up from the streets. Comfort and care were unknown and unfamiliar to her. In a world that had fought her every moment since birth, all she had learned to do was fear those around her and fight anything that came her way. Nothing was good. Nobody was kind. Nowhere was safe. It had been a pitiful way to live, but it explained how she had become the way she was.

Ash reached up and tucked away the rogue strand of hair behind her ear, focusing solely on her food. I watched as it slipped down again, the long ribbon of brown warm against her lightly tanned skin.

Unable to stand it any longer, I moved around the island.

Focused solely on the challenge in front of her, Ash didn’t glance my way or acknowledge the sounds of my footsteps. It wasn’t until I slid my fingers over her shoulders that she realized my presence.

Her body snapped straight, her hands stiff as stone.

I hooked my fingers around the edges of her hair, dragging it back past her shoulders and down her arched back. Her skin was flushed, and a slight feverish warmth sent tingles through my fingertips as they just grazed the fine hairs running over her neck. Goosebumps prickled along the surface, and a tremor traveled throughout her as she fought the sensitive shiver.

I continued my motion, slipping my fingers beneath her hair, scooping the escaping strands, and sliding the elastic down my wrist until I could twist and wrap it around the collum of hair, taming it into a simple ponytail down the back of her neck.

I released the soft breath I’d been holding and took a step back, admiring my handiwork. It wasn’t much, but for someone who’d never let my hair grow long enough to touch the back of my neck, it was perfect, even for a first try.

I saw the tension unwind in Ash’s shoulders, her fork lowering from her statue hold, and her chest sucking air back into her lungs. I stood still, a thought trickling into my mind as I stared at her familiar figure.

She’d allowed this.

To have touched Ash had earned me a defensive strike or a rapid escape without fail. Each kiss I’d stolen had been rewarded with a growl, hiss, or a hasty retreat. Even when I had touched her hair previously, it had been only with permission. This mindless gesture, however, had surpassed all those conditions.

Heat spread across my chest and stimulated every nerve south. I grew rock-hard beneath my jeans and had to fight to suppress the purr wanting to erupt. Just the thought of Ash letting me take control, to submit to me even just this once, had such an emotional and physical impact that I wondered how I’d not noticed such a nature inside before.

I’d never cared for anything sexually exotic, other than satisfying my physical needs. There was no need to complicate an activity that served its purpose. Both my partner and I would come out satiated and drained, and that would be that.

This —whatever it was—had me ready to blast into my jeans just at the touch of her hair. I’d barely grazed her skin, and a fire was burning in me hotter than anything I’d ever felt.

I could see her, on her back, mewling my name, begging me for more. I’d take her, I’d ravish her, I’d show her everything that it meant to belong to me. I—

“Are you … allergic to color?” Ash’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I retreated as if I’d been scalded.

Ice doused my body as my brain kicked into gear, turning down whatever switch had been turned to max. Logic berated and banished the rampant thoughts, quelling the momentary weakness of my desire. I knew full well if I fucked up here, my plan would be shredded to tatters without a second chance.

Whatever had come over me had been temporary. I wouldn’t let it happen again.

If Ash had noticed my actions, she pretended not to, her eyes skittishly scanning her surroundings. “I thought I had died when I saw it all.” She stared through narrow slits, eyes blinking rapidly in the face of the bright occlusive daylight.

I swept across the room, pulling loose the sheer curtains and dragging them closed. With each one, I took a breath, making sure the fire in my chest was smothered into nothing but cold, dead ashes before I turned back around.

Ash was tracing me now, her eyes open and clear as the curtains diffused the light into a more manageable strength for her sensitive sight. I looked around at my white surroundings before turning back to her, placing myself a few feet away. “What color would you like to see?” I sunk onto the arm of the couch, interlocking my fingers together as I looked back at her.

She still squinted, with her low visual ability and the lack of sunlight, as she skimmed across the room. “I do not know.” Ash shrugged, her knife and fork abandoned by the side of the plate, pressed neatly alongside each other. She’d maybe eaten half her food, but it looked like that would be all. It was the most I’d ever seen her eaten in one sitting, so I was more than willing to take the win.

“You don’t know colors?” I tilted my head to one side, enjoying a bitter sense of satisfaction as I watched her eyes roll into her skull with a disgruntled huff.

“I know colors ,” she grunted. “But does it really matter which one you put in here? It just needs something so it is not all … blank. ”

“How about you pick one?” I stood, reaching down to the white console table and pulling open a drawer underneath.

“A color?”

“ No. A shape, ” I responded, sarcasm saturating my voice, and again enjoyed the scowl sharpening her features. I shrugged, offering her an easy smile as I began to walk back over to her. “Tit for tat.”

She rolled her eyes again, and I liked how the attitude looked on her.

“A color for what?” Ash ignored the comment as I stopped just short of her perch.

“For anything.” I lifted my hands, revealing what I’d grabbed as I placed the simple black-framed sunglasses onto her face.

She jerked back at my touch, the glasses jumping down her nose. She righted them, pushing them back up her bridge, a puzzled look staring through them.

I gave her a wide smile, knowing what reaction I’d get.

“We’re going shopping.”

I t had been an impromptu plan, but as we walked—or in Ash’s case, hobbled—into the shopping mall, I patted myself on the back.

This new detour posed potential profits for my plan, starting with Ash clinging desperately to my arm. I was beginning to wonder about the cost of an artificial arm when pins and needles prickled my fingertips as Ash’s death grip cut off my circulation, all the while hissing from next to me for the thirteenth time, “This is such a foolish idea.”

Paranoia hounded her face, tucked tightly into her chin, veiled by only the brim of the baseball hat she’d stolen from my wardrobe as I’d dragged her out of the house. Her eyes were everywhere, suspicion radiating from them like a laser beam, shooting at every man, woman, and child, as if a spy might be disguised inside a stroller.

“If you had been this cautious while traveling, our current situation would have been a tad more unlikely,” I commented, earning myself a laser beam to the pupil. I met her gaze, an easy expression on the face of my adversary. “If you’re looking to blind me in solidarity, then all you have to do is ask.”

“No,” Ash grumbled, turning away from my gaze. “I feel like if I asked, even as a joke, you would grab the closest fork and stab yourself right in the face.”

“Of course.” I shrugged, jostling her weight a little and consequently earning a sharp pinch beneath the navy sleeve of my long trench coat. “Which would you prefer I do first? Left or right?”

I turned to catch her face, leaning close enough to feel her breath rolling over my cheeks, and batted my eyelashes. Our heights weren’t too different from one another, but with a limp, Ash was more hunched and lower from me than usual. I ate up the space with ease, and the sweet, soft scent of the shampoo I’d bought for her wafted into my nose. Something about her smelling exactly like I’d predicted had a purr rolling in the back of my throat.

Ash rolled her eyes, something that had been rare for me before today.

Choosing to leave our debate at that, Ash blanched at my proximity, my cologne not stirring a reaction out of her as it did myself. Perhaps, I ought to try a different brand.

“I can walk on my own,” Ash grumbled, once again trying to free her hand from the crook of my arm.

I pressed my palm over hers, her skin cool as I held it firmly against mine. “You shouldn’t put weight on your foot. It will open your wounds.”

“Then we should have stayed home,” Ash said. I’d heard the words inside my mind before they’d left her lips, reminiscing about the struggle it’d taken to leave the house.

With an open door, I’d expected Ash to fly out of it. But, much to my surprise, Ash had stayed anchored in place, her face paling at the thought of leaving. Her protest had been legendary, and I’d had to pin her arms and legs to her sides as I’d all but thrown her into the car and tied her into her seat belt.

“They are papercuts, at best,” Ash said. “It is an inconvenience compared to a bullet through the chest or anything else I experienced.”

I knew the last part meant her life on the streets, even if she didn’t elaborate. When we’d set up her new identity, we’d given her a card with money loaded on it to get her started. But once Ash had escaped the nest, there hadn’t been a single penny spent from it; it had been a dead end in my search to find her. She’d also been shot six times, so there was that.

“Well, you’re here now, with me,” I answered. “And I made a promise. So long as you stay here, by my side, no harm will come to you.”

“What good is a one-man army against my father with governments, gangs, and the underworld at his beck and call?” Ash shrugged as well as she could with one arm fixed under my own.

“I think you overestimate his influence.” I shrugged again.

“And I think you underestimate it,” Ash countered.

I thought about it. “War can break with a word. Fire can ravage with a match. An avalanche can fall with a whisper.” I smiled. I knew the foe I had faced, but I’d never met a match I couldn’t best. And I never fought a war I couldn’t win. Some might call it arrogance, but I preferred confidence. It hadn’t guided me wrong yet.

“Very poetic,” Ash said, voice flat, clearly unimpressed. Writing a love letter would be off the list of potential persuasion techniques. “So, which are you—the stone, the match, or the whisper?”

I pulled her in, a gasp slipping from her lips, her foot catching mine, momentum throwing her into my arms. Surprise widened those glossy pale eyes as her glasses slipped down her nose, pupils peering up at mine. I tightened my hold around her waist, the weight of her body against mine uncomfortable, her sharp shoulder pressing into my sternum, but I was hesitant to let it go.

“I can be all you want me to be,” I offered, a free hand lifting to push back the stray hair slipping from her head. I tucked it behind her ears, the tips a soft, blushing red as my finger lingered longer down the trail from her ear, down to her neck. “I can be a reckoning war, a vanquishing hellfire, a mighty avalanche; I can tear down your enemies until nothing but ash and dust lay beneath your feet.” I stopped my finger on her throat, the thundering pulse quaking beneath my touch. “If that is what you wish, then I am capable of all of it.”

Ash stared for a long while, her eyes jumping back and forth between my own as if searching for the lie, for the false confidence hidden behind them. She would find none. There had been many limits I had yet to reach; all I lacked was simply motivation. The task would not be an easy one; the ability to find means and create opportunities would be difficult.

But it wasn’t impossible.

Even a crack could destroy a dam. All I had to do was find that crack. And if I couldn’t find one, I’d make one.

“You are delusional,” Ash blurted, shock dwindling into disbelief, as a sharp, barked laugh burst out of her chest. “You almost had me for a second there.” She slapped her hand against my chest before using it to right herself back onto her feet.

She slid her hand back under my arm voluntarily, while she righted her glasses with the other before resting it over her chest. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

I raised my brow at her, which only seemed to cement her misunderstanding.

“See? I knew you were joking.” She laughed, twirling her hand in my face. “Your face tells all.”

“It does?” I frowned.

“Yup.”

I didn’t give her a moment. I pressed my arm to the small of her back, spinning and pressing her body into mine. Her gasp filled my mouth as I pressed my lips down to hers. Then I reached up, winding my hand around the back of her neck, tilting her head, giving me access to that shocked, delicious mouth of hers. I heard her hat slip from her head, dropping to the floor behind us, but I didn’t care, and neither did she as I slid my tongue between her lips, pulling hers into mine, our warmth mingling together.

A noise rumbled out of my chest, and she moaned in response, tilting hers toward mine as I fought to restrain my strength. My hands burned with the urge to tighten around her, as if I could even possibly bring her closer to me, desperate to merge her body with mine.

Her hands tightened into the lapels of my coat, dragging me forward, and I obliged with a step between her feet. Warmth wrapped around my leg as her thighs straddled my own and I almost dropped to my knees then and there.

Feeling my dick straining painfully against my zipper, I broke the kiss. Her hot, panting breaths rolled over my damp lips, and I found our eyes locked together. Even through her glasses, I could see her wide, dark eyes glossy and soft as they stared up deliriously into my own.

“If you think my face is telling you I am joking,” I whispered, darting my tongue out to swipe one more sweet taste of her lips, “then I will tell you the truth with my body instead.”

Ash swore, jerking her hands away from my coat like she’d been scalded. She slid back off my leg, and I almost groaned as her warmth slipped away. She spun from me, jerking her hands to her face and head as she realized her hat was missing. Turning in circles, she flapped until she spotted it on the floor, snatching it from the ground and snapping it onto her head, the rim pressed tight down over her face. It hid everything except those swollen pink lips, her teeth raking over them. “Do not do that in public, you bastard. Who knows who is looking at us!”

“I didn’t think you were the shy type,” I purred, trying to close that tiny difference.

Ash escaped a step back, a pink blush working its way down from her cheeks to the small, exposed flesh of her neck. I yearned to run my teeth across it.

“That is not what I meant,” Ash hissed, shoving at my chest. It was pathetic and barely enough to move me. If I’d been a hoping man, I’d think it was her excuse to touch me again. “I am a wanted fugitive, you twat.”

“Ah, right.” I nodded, looking about the half-dead mall. Even in a city, if you came early enough in the day, people were sparse. “There is that.”

“You are seriously an imbecile,” Ash huffed, turning her coat collar up, one of my thick wool scarfs now tied tightly around her neck, and stalked as best as she could with one weak foot deeper into the mall.

I watched her hobble for a while, a light heat fluttering over my chest, reaching my burning lips. I shifted, trying to adjust my trousers for a little breathing room, but my appendage was not ready to go down. With my eyes tracing her fleeting form, it twitched.

“I’m screwed.” I laughed, the humor not lost on me as this toxic, traumatized woman tottered away.

I jogged after her, and she fought me for a moment before allowing me to capture her hand with my arm, unable to look at me as she waited for that soft pink blush to settle from her skin. I looked forward to making it reappear.

I should have known that this moment, though small and fleeting, had been the point of my downfall. Should have known this woman would be the end of us both. If I had been a smarter man, I’d have turned and walked away.

I was not a smarter man.