14. Ash

Chapter Fourteen

ASH

I pulled and heaved and …

The lock did not budge.

It stared at me, laughing as it blocked me from my precious poison. The small padlock had been inserted into one of the supporting columns of the stairs, and inside housed all of Lamb’s alcohol supply. I looked at the clock for the millionth time since he’d left this morning. He’d given me a drink just before he had departed, but we were ticking well past my next supply. I had nibbled on the sandwiches he had left me on the counter, the soft bread like wet sand and the cheese like a piece of cardboard, but it was doing nothing for the growing ache in my stomach and the intensifying shakes in my hands.

I felt cold and feverish, sweat trickling down my brow; a mix of the impending withdrawal and my furious attempts to physically rip the padlock from the wall. I hated waiting at this man’s beck and call, depending on the moment he would give me my next drink. My body and mind could spiral if he so wished. It was infuriating.

I grunted, letting go of the padlock and collapsing into a pile on the floor. My legs sprawled out on the tiles, and I shivered as its cold touch sank into my bones.

Darkness had coated the house in a shadowy, murky monochrome. Trickles of light bled through from the lampposts out on the street, giving a golden edge to the sofa, the table, and the few appliances dotted around the room. More than a few, actually.

It was not until I was left to my own devices, and mentally acute enough to explore around the house, that I found no porn magazines or secret stashes of cash, though all of that was digital now, so I hadn’t expected to come across any. Instead, I had come across even more books; how-to’s, guides, and textbooks all explaining something different, from changing a car tyre to beginner hacking and an encyclopaedia on diseases. It was the most eclectic collection I had ever seen, as if he had just up and stole the whole non-fiction department from a library.

Second to that was the number of devices here, there, and everywhere. If there was something designed to shortcut a task, Lamb had it. His blinds were remote-controlled, doors locked with a keypad, a vacuum robot rolled out across the floor, hoovering and mopping as it went. Even the windows could only be opened via thumbprint. It did not work for mine, of course, but it had been worth a try.

I’d debated checking the door lock, but after Lamb and my conversation this morning, part of me didn’t want to know whether he’d left it unlocked. Because if it was unlocked, I wasn’t sure what I would do. And the fact I was debating that was scarier than believing I was locked in here. So, for the foreseeable future, I was Schrodinger’s cat. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I had told Lamb to stop treating me like some pet, yet here I was, tamed and waiting on my mast—nope, still could not say that one— owner to return.

It was pathetic, and—

The door chime rang through the room, and before I could even comprehend what I was doing, I had sprung to my feet, racing across the dark living room.

Lamb stood, wide-eyed, as I screeched to a stop. He looked me up and down, taking in a quick assessment of my state before his eyes reached mine.

“You are home!” I gasped, elated relief rushing across my chest.

Lamb stood, static in the doorway for a long time, before stepping through and closing it behind him. It chimed as the lock engaged and he put the small bag of what looked like shopping onto the floor beside him.

“You are late,” I growled, folding my arms over my chest. They shook against my ribs, but I did not care. The spurt of energy that bolstered through my chest had a fire lighting inside, and though it did nothing to warm me up, I could not ignore the heat spurring my tongue. “Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to—”

Lips swallowed my words, a warm tongue slipping over mine, a gasp lost in the mix of mouth and moans. His warmth mingled with mine, body crushing against my chest, hands going around my hips and, before I could process, lifting me off the ground.

My fire erupted. One moment, I wanted to rip his hair from his skull for making me wait, and then next, I was bursting with need, anger, and impatience. My demand of him turned into my demand for him. My addictive habits, and borderline withdrawal, craved to drag something out of him, something to fill my need, something to calm the raging hole gorging out of my middle.

Legs wrapped around his waist, arms clinging his shoulders, we moved backwards before my ass dropped onto the back of the sofa, legs sliding down to the back of his knees. His head followed me, unwilling to break the kiss, the scent of his warm cologne and the sharp taste of mint coating his tongue sending shivers down my spine.

He traced the back of my teeth, exploring my mouth as his hands reached around my neck, cupping my face and holding me in place. His movements slowed, the feverish force settling into a slow, lingering burn.

Satiating whatever demon had taken over him, Lamb slipped his tongue from mine, peppering kisses, capturing my lips again before he dragged himself away.

I was drained, the shivers lost to the burning shooting up from my core. The hole was filled, if only temporarily, with the molten warmth he had placed there, bubbling and simmering from his touches. The only reason I had yet to collapse back into the sofa was Lamb’s hold still secure around my face, one thumb tracing the edges of my jaw, the other soothing over my swollen, wet lips.

“I’m home,” Lamb rumbled, the vibrations going straight down to my vagina, and I almost slid right off the sofa then and there.

“I need you to stop doing this.” I sighed, melting into his touch as a weightless feeling lifted my chest.

“Doing what?” Lamb purred, reaching down to steal another soft kiss from my lips. I found my own trying to follow it, but my body was too heavy and devoid of strength to do so.

“All of this,” I whispered, not liking the feeling of those emotional claws climbing their way into my chest. In my gooey, jelly-like brain, I could feel the lingering weight of doubt dragging me back down from cloud nine to the cold, cruel earth below. “Stop being kind to me. Stop touching me. Stop kissing me.”

“Why?” Lamb asked, his voice only curious.

“Because I’m scared.” The truth slipped out from my lips, and I could feel the vulnerability of my soul; the raw tenderness exposed to the cold outside, begging to bury itself deep within, back to where it was safe and where nothing could reach me. I wanted to push him away, to run far from his reach, where I didn’t have to feel so … helpless. “I’m scared that I won’t stop you. That I’ll depend on you. That you’ll crawl your way in, and when you tell me you’ll free me … that I will believe you.”

“You should,” Lamb retorted, tilting my head from where it had tucked into my chest. I looked up, blond hair framing his deep brown eyes. “Trust me, Ash,” Lamb whispered, his hands tracing the edges of my face, lost in the curves of my cheeks and the softness of my lips. “I will make it all disappear. I’ll make you safe. I’ll set you free.”

“I don’t believe you.” I shook my head, seeing his eyes harden. “Not yet.”

A smile quipped on Lamb’s lips, and I could see that spark in his eye, a mix of playful and deceptive. “Shall we make a bet?”

A tingle rushed over my skin, starting from his hands and working its way deep down. His faith was contagious, and I fought to rid it from my soul, but it had crept in, and the little crack he had made widened a smidge more. “I have heard of your corrupt bets.” I shook my head, the motion subdued by Lamb’s hold. “The ones that are impossible to win.”

“Then you’re aware of the terms,” Lamb quipped. “If you are sure I’ll fail, you’ll have no problem agreeing.”

I stared up into his eyes, the dark brown orbs alight with confidence in not only his words but himself. I was not sure whether he was just self-assured or deluded about the task. Freeing me meant going against a man with countries at his back, and the power to kill, and not even a whisper of him appearing in police records or newspapers.

“You are just one man.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” Lamb stroked back a strand of my hair, tracing the motion as it tucked behind my ear.

“Fine,” I sighed, knowing he would not give in, and I was not stupid enough to expect him to. Though our time together had not been long, Lamb was as stubborn as a mule. “And if I win?”

“Then I’ll let you go.” His voice was calm, no emotions riding on the few words I had been desperate to hear. But inside, something shrivelled up and wailed. Did I even want to go? It was a dangerous question, one I was not sure I had the answer to. It was a bittersweet reality, and yet, I still could not bring myself to refuse it.

“And if you win?”

“Marry me.”

I nearly threw myself across the room. A laugh of shock bubbled out of my chest. I clung to his arm, suffering through the surprise, nearly tearing up at his words. “You are kidding,” I scoffed.

Lamb was everything but. He shook his head, eyes locked on mine. “Not at all.”

“It is absurd.” The laughter stopped, and the humour cooled in my chest. “There is no benefit to marrying me. You know best what happens to people who get too close to me.”

“I’m not afraid of your father,” the imbecile countered, missing the point entirely.

“You do not see it.” I grabbed his arm tighter now, willing my words into his body. “It is not just my father. All my life, anyone associated with me has suffered because of it. Even if my father was gone, even if all my problems ceased to exist, there would always be something. Something to tear down those who choose to be with me.”

“Is that why you ran away? From the club? From Anna?”

Lamb’s abrupt question cut through my soul. I had not been ready for it, nor prepared to even hear her name. The name I had not heard for months. The name I had not dared let pass my lips. But Lamb was not finished.

“You ran away because you were worried something would happen to her,” Lamb pushed, and those ice-cold walls rose again. With all their ridges and cracks, they towered higher and pushed me deeper. “She has a life now. A family. A son. Were you worried something would happen if you stuck around? That’s why you left?”

“Get off me,” I whispered, wriggling to break free of his grip. He tried to hold me still, but that just made me resist stronger. “I said get off,” I hissed, and Lamb let go. His grip lurched from my skin, pulling his body back, hands raised by his side.

I did not care what expression he looked at me with. Did not care what he thought. I just jumped from the sofa, my feet hitting the floor and rushing across the tile, not stopping until I was upstairs, behind the safety of the bedroom door. The room felt colder than ever as I let the darkness envelop me.

I was not ready for that conversation.

I probably never would be.