23. Ash

Chapter Twenty-Three

ASH

“ I cannot believe you had that this whole time,” I grumbled, not genuinely surprised as Lamb unlocked the cell door. The heavy thing swung open with a creak and a cry for WD-40. It was so loud I was sure everyone in the compound heard our escape.

“I had Wolf slip me the key before we went in,” Lamb revealed, sweeping his arm out in a polite gesture.

“So, you planned this whole thing together.” I sighed, feeling the weight of my soul crumple in my chest. Of course, they did.

“Wolf’s a good actor when he wants to be.” Lamb shrugged, waiting for me to cross the threshold before following behind me. “Wolf had insisted you stay in the cage, but I made it clear we came as a pair, so if he wanted me, he had to take you, too.”

“I feel so charmed,” I scoffed, sarcasm dry on my tongue. “And the point of this was …?”

“To get you to be honest with me.” Lamb tucked the key back into his jeans pocket before walking towards me and reaching for my hand. I didn’t get much of a choice as he scooped my hand into his, threading our fingers together. Not one for clingy interactions, I fought to shake my hand free, but the fucker had a good grip. I gave up, lacking the energy to fight and the willpower to challenge this man. I had long since realised it was better to pick my battles with him.

“And …?” I probed. “It does not sound like it has done you much good.”

“It has.” Lamb paused as if he was thinking it over when I knew he had already formulated a plan within his great scheme. “I’m going to tip the scales.”

“What?”

“If you have more reasons to die, then I will give you more reasons to live,” Lamb answered. “And if that becomes my reason for living, then that’s two birds, one stone.”

“Simple as that?” A laugh burst from my mouth.

“Simple as that.” Lamb puffed out his chest. The pride and certainty on his face had the laughter rippling harder as I struggled to climb the stairs into the clubroom. This man had just investigated a dark abyss and decided to get a shovel and fill it up, one scoop at a time.

“You really are an idiot,” I laughed, feeling my strength wasting through humour and disbelief.

A small smile pulled at Lamb’s lips, but that same keen curiosity was sharp in his eyes, waiting patiently until I calmed. Certain that I had not lost my mind—not fully, anyway—he pushed open the door, and the noise of the clubroom rebounded down the hallway.

It was loud, as it had always been, full of life, and noise, and energy. Even down the long hall, the vibrancy slammed into me. I had not paid it much attention as we had been shuffled in. The room had been nearly vacant, but now I knew the people I had once cast aside, cold and cruel, were right here. It was suffocating. I had felt outcasted when I had been in the club, but I knew it had been my choice. This time, however, it was different.

We walked in silence back towards the clubroom, and the closer I got to the main hall, the wooden boards beneath my feet turned into a plank, and the resounding noise became the waves of the ocean. I had not noticed I had slowed until I felt the small tug of my hand as Lamb’s fingers pulled on mine.

He paused, staring at me, and even though I was aware my feet were dragging, I could not get them to move any further.

“I would like to say you don’t have to but—”

“I know,” I cut him off. “I must do this. Like ripping off a plaster, right?”

Lamb looked over to the room, to the huge pride of lions ready to eat me alive, and when he looked back at me, his face was a mask of innocence.

Liar.

With a deep breath, I crossed the threshold.

Silence descended like a snuffed-out candle. The noise and life lost in a whisper of smoke. Cold faces and icy glares turned towards me, and the blizzard bit into my bones.

I had not expected an excited welcome, but an Artic storm was beyond my prediction.

“Well, glad to see everyone is happy to see me,” I grumbled beneath my breath. Even Lamb was giving our audience an uncertain stare.

“I—”

“Church!” Wolf bellowed from across the room. “All members. Now.”

I had been so startled by the frozen wasteland of the club that I had not even spotted the nearly seven-foot Russian hanging out by the other end of the room. He bracketed himself in the other doorway, the one that led to the office and, more importantly, the clubroom.

He gazed across the room, barely landing on Lamb and me, before disappearing into the dark hallway.

An obedient army, one by one, the brothers got up and headed to their clubroom. Some were more obvious about their looks of distrust, disgust, and disapproval my way; some going as far as adding pointed gestures and glares as they went on their merry way.

Lamb’s face said little as he looked at me, but the context and situation said enough.

“Go,” I sighed. “I’ll be fine. I just need to find a stiff drink.”

Brown eyes hardened, and even if his face was unchanging, a burning rush rippled beneath my skin.

“I am kidding,” I huffed, giving him a light shove of his arm. The small use of strength exerted me more than I would like to admit, and having his hawking eyes hanging over me the entire time was not helping. I was weak, but I was not fragile. “Go. Before we get in any more trouble.”

Lamb’s lingering gaze slid across my body, cataloguing all the information he could attain before he allowed his fingers to slip from mine. The cold raced over my skin as I tucked the limp limb towards my chest.

“Hurry back,” I said quietly so he would not hear, but as his back turned to me and he walked away, a part of me wished I had said it louder.

Lamb vanished from my sight, the glimpse of his blond hair disappearing down the hallway, and all too soon, I was alone.

Cold flooded in, prickling and poking at my skin. For a long moment, I stared at the empty doorway, trying not to let it reach too deeply. But I could not stand there all day, and the longer I waited, the worse it would get.

Not waiting for the unlikely event that someone would approach me first, I lifted my chin, pulled back my shoulders, and strode across to the bar.

I was okay.

I repeated the mantra in my head as I lifted myself up onto one of the bar stools, the soft, worn cushioned seat welcoming me. Out of everywhere in this clubhouse, this had been the one spot where I had discovered comfort and solidarity. What I had not been able to accept from others, I found at the bottom of my whiskey glass, one after another.

My fingers toyed at the frayed holes of the seat, the slightly uneven legs rocking beneath my weight back and forth on the wooden floors. I smelt the bitter taste of beer, the sharp sting of spirits, and the sweet aroma of cocktails rising from the bar. Many drinks had been shared, spilt, and shotted from this bar, and it carried the chips, scratches, and stains from them. No matter how much they polished, buffed, or washed the wooden surface, it still had that tacky residue that many bars did.

I was not the only one to have drowned in a drink, many having wasted tears, pain, and bad memories into their glasses. Some made people better; others, worse. Either way, enough always promised a blissful oblivion, even for a night. It would be gone by morning, and I was among the many who would feel reality come knocking and would pick up another glass, not ready to answer the door.

“You okay?” A voice jolted me out of my thoughts, and I nearly threw myself from the chair. I had not realised how far my mind had wandered, and a jolt of panic rushed into my stomach.

I spun on the stool, eyes registering my surroundings once again, and I saw that not a single person was breathing in my direction, and the panic in my chest began to calm. All except for one, that is.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, rubbing my clammy hands up and down on my jeans. “I am okay...”

I would be.

“You don’t look fine.” Pipe, I recognised, stood with a frown, his bald head gleaming even under the subdued, dim lighting of the bar. The few windows running along the outside wall cut through the dark shadows of the room, dust dancing in their dominion.

“I’m—”

“ Pipe, honey,” a sharp, high-pitched voice cut me off. “Can you grab me a beer?”

I turned, staring at the girl leaning over the bar. Her long, false blonde hair hung in big, bouncy curls over her bare shoulders, pooling into her deep, round cleavage. She had bright red lips, black smudged makeup, and ice-cold blue eyes fluttering her spider-leg lashes at Pipe like she was having a seizure.

I did not recognise her, nor did she recognise me. She gave me a slow once-over, not even attempting to hide her pitiful, smug smile. I was unsure what she thought she won, but it did not matter.

Pipe’s eyes roamed over what she had to offer before reaching down beneath the bar to the fridge coolers. He extended it to the girl, who pressed her lips into a wide pout.

“You haven’t opened it,” she purred, running her fingers over the condensed sheen of the neck, eyes not leaving Pipe’s.

“And you ain’t paid.” Pipe smirked.

To my surprise, the girl popped up on her thick heels, pushing over the bar, her tits squashed into the sticky bar surface, and pressed a kiss to Pipe’s cheek. Then she slipped her hand around the beer bottle, pulling it back.

“You’re short,” Pipe grumbled, unsatisfied with the pocket change she offered.

“Put it on my tab.” She winked, pressing the neck of the bottle against the side of the bar and, with a deft slam of her hand, the cap pinged off somewhere into the room, and a cold fog rolled out of the open top.

She looked over at me, smug and revelling in the slightly impressed look I gave her before she offered the bottle towards me. “Cheers.” She winked, the scent of the beer wafting across my face before she turned and strutted away.

Badump .

The scent of the beer clung to my throat, and I could taste its bitter bite on my tongue. It shot straight to my stomach, which churned at just the smell.

Badump. Badump.

I fought to breathe in through my nose and out of my mouth, trying to control the nausea rising. I clung to the bar, my racing heart turning the world around me as my heart rate climbed and climbed. Every fibre of my being clung to the scent that had long since disappeared. I knew it was not real, but I could taste it on my tongue, could feel it pooling in my stomach, the warmth of a drink flooding through my veins and rushing over my mind.

Panic raced through my vessel, and my throat began to close as the darkness swept in around me and my chest tightened. My head pounded as that smell grew louder and louder in my mind.

“I am … I—” I could not get the words out. They were stuck, clinging to my throat like thick black tar.

I was not okay.

“You really don’t look good.” Pipe’s voice bounced around in my ears. “Let me get you a water or—”

“No,” I practically hissed at him. He stilled. and I was able to look up from the bar just enough to make contact. “I need wh—” I shook my head.

No.

“ Whiskey ,” I pleaded, my voice strangled. “Double. Triple. Anything .”

No!

Pipe frowned, running his eyes up and down. “I’m not sure that’s—”

“ Please ,” I begged, my body shaking violently. I no longer had control. Something had taken over, and no matter how much I screamed and begged not to do it, I was unable to resist. I needed it. Needed it more than I needed to breathe. Needed it more than I could cope.

After a long stare, a soft breath rushed from Pipe’s lips, his steel grey eyes softening. “All right,” he sighed, reaching up to the shelf and pulling down a bottle. His hands were slow, or time had slowed to a snail’s crawl. Either way, it felt like an eternity before a glass slid in front of me.

Like an animal dying in the desert, I lunged for the glass, my hands shaking so violently that I almost threw it back over the other side of the bar.

Stop!

I pulled the glass to my lips, the wet whiskey rushing over my skin like burning electricity. Finally.

STOP!

Glass shattered across the bar. Pieces scattered over the surface, rushing over the edge and crashing over the floorboards. A rough, calloused palm clamped over my lips, the back of my head pressed into something hard and firm.

“Fuck,” Jax hissed, shaking his glass-splintered palm above the counter. Small shards dropped onto the counter while others glistened in his skin.

I stared at the blood trickling over his palm and onto the counter, mixing with the spilt whiskey. I could feel it on my hands and dripping down my skin and arms.

“ No ,” I breathed through tight fingers.

Jax dropped his hand from my face, and my own hands, dripping with dregs of whiskey and glass, jerked towards my lips.

Hands locked around my wrists, stopping them in place, a few inches from my lips. A tug from tasting that sweet warmth once again.

“Towel. Now,” Jax hissed, and without missing a beat, Pipe tossed one across the bar. Jax held me like an iron bar, unyielding to my struggles as he wiped the whiskey and blood running down my skin.

“No,” I whimpered, pulling at my arms as Jax wiped away the traces of my drink. With his muscles and my meagre strength, he might as well have been a mountain. “ Please, no …” My tears burned as they ran down my cheeks and the fight leaked from my bones.

Pipe hurried to clean up the counter, my drink disappearing as I watched, unable to do anything about it.

“What’s wrong with her?” Pipe’s mild concern had evolved into full apprehension as he looked towards Jax, who was making sure to get every single drop of drink from my skin.

“Fresh out of detox.”

“Fuck, brother.” Pipe paled, his eyes pleading over my shoulder. He held his palms up either side of him. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Jax grumbled. “You wouldn’t have known.”

I could not bring myself to turn or look. I did not want to see their faces. See the disappointment. I had crumbled at the first hurdle. I had been left alone for less than a moment and was desperate to throw myself over the bar and drink every bottle until the world disappeared.

My throat tightened, and I could not get my chest to relax. My breaths came short as the despair washed over me. I had begged and pleaded with myself not to do it, but when it had come down to it, I was unable to stop myself. I had no power. I was pathetic. I was weak.

“Fuck, Ash,” Jax snapped, dropping his hands from my arms. “Sweetheart, breathe .”

“I—” I could not. “I cannot—”

Arms wrapped around my back and my legs, and the next thing I knew, I was in the air. I clutched my chest, desperate to pull in just a breath of air as the world rushed around me. I was aware I was moving, but I could not focus on anything except the darkness dancing across my vision.

“Ash,” Lamb’s voice echoed through my mind. I heard a bang , and the next thing I knew, Lamb was putting me down, sitting me up. One arm held tight around my forearm, stopping me from kneeling over, and the other pressed against the back of my neck, pushing me forward until I had my head tucked between my knees. “Breathe for me, Ash. Calm down and breathe .”

I was unsure how long I sat there, but Lamb held me still, his familiar hand squeezing the back of my neck in soft, gentle pulses, counting the beats as I fought to pull in air. Slowly, my mind cleared, and my racing heartbeat calmed.

Certain I was not going to pass out anymore, I pulled back against his grip, and Lamb allowed me to sit upright. He sat on his haunches in front of me, his hand on my thigh, the other cupping the side of my face, rubbing his thumb up and down the curve of my cheekbone.

“I am sorry,“ I whispered, my voice hoarse and weak. “I am—”

“Ash,” Lamb cut me off. “Look at me.”

I shook my head. I could not.

Finger and thumb cupped my chin and pulled me up to face him.

Dark brown eyes stared at me as he searched and observed my face. I could not bear to meet his gaze. His expression was set in a stern frown, and the guilt churned.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, catching me off guard. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

I shook my head. “I am weak,” I admitted, hating the reality crashing down around me. “I am pathetic. I could not even stand five minutes before I—”

Lips pressed against mine, my words lost between the gesture. Lamb held me tight, his lips moving softly over mine, gentle and tender. My fight slipped from my fingers, despair and frustration softening with his touch.

Lamb pulled away, those bright, simmering brown eyes still and steady on mine. “You are anything but. You are strong, and you are stubborn,” Lamb whispered, his words running over my skin. “It may have been five minutes this time, but next time, it will be ten. Then ten minutes will turn into an hour. An hour into days. Days into months. And months into years,” Lamb carried on, reaching up with both hands to hold my face, his lips punctuating his words with soft, peppered kisses against my forehead, eyes, nose, and lips, each touch leaving soothing tingles. “I told you.” Lamb’s lips grazed over mine. “I will not let you fail.”

Lamb kissed me again, deeper, softer, and I found my resolve melting into him. He wrapped his hands tightly around my neck, his thumbs pressing into my jaw, forcing me to tilt back my head as he rose. My lips refused to part from his, growing into a feverous desperation as I clung to his, wrapping my hands around his neck and my legs around his waist.

The soft kisses turned into something fast and rushed and, suddenly, we could not get enough of each other. I kissed him fervently, his touches letting me breathe and his heat pumping blood through my veins. Lamb returned it, his grip almost painful on my hips, fingers holding me still as he pressed my back onto the bed.

“Lamb,” I whispered against him. “Please,” I begged, not sure what I was asking.

Lamb knew. Lamb always knew.

He let go of my waist for a second, and my hips bucked, mourning his tight hold. In the second his hands were gone, my jeans slid from my waist, my underwear gone with them.

I clawed at his shirt and dragged it up over his shoulders, the kiss breaking just for a moment as I tore the material off his head and tossed it to the side. In that split-second we looked at each, I saw a fire raging in Lamb’s eyes. It was molten, and it burst across my skin and core. I drenched at the power raging behind that expression, and I could see that, this time, unlike any other time that monster had reared its head, he was not thinking. No more calculated, cunning movements. This was pure and powerful. Raw emotion rampaged between us that neither of us could stop.

I grew hot in my core as Lamb made quick work of the rest of my clothes and his. His hot, raging length stood against his abs, the deep red head staring at me with intention and desperation. I reached down, my fingers just grazing the tip of his head.

That was as far as I got.

My arms were launched above my head, and my wrists were caged between a wide, strong hand for the second time today. Lamb pinned my hands above my head, and I opened my mouth to argue, but the second I looked at him, the words stopped dead on my lips.

Lamb’s face was flushed red, his chest panting, breaths staggered, and teeth pressing down tight on his lips.

“Lamb?”

“We can’t—” Lamb swallowed, and I could see it in his eyes. The fight for control. The raging heat that took over was now battling with the Lamb inside. The urge to take what he wanted and the need to stop and think struggled for dominance.

“Lamb,” I whined, my hips bucking up against him, the burning in my core not liking this whole thinking business. I did not care which side of Lamb took over, I just wanted to relieve the burning itch. “Please,”

“Fuck,” Lamb growled. I thought he would take longer to argue, but he must have come to some conclusion.

I was unsure how he did it, but one moment, I was on my back, and the next, I was on my belly. Lamb’s hand still pinned my arms above my head, my face now getting a mouthful of bedsheets. I opened my mouth to argue, but Lamb had other plans.

His free hand slipped beneath my waist, and he lifted my hips, the hot rod of his dick resting against my ass.

I did not get time to try to figure out what he was up to as, suddenly, his hot, burning dick slid between my thighs. I gasped as his tip pushed through my folds, hot and burning, and my core throbbed in response.

I groaned into the pillow as Lamb began to work himself back and forth through my folds, his dick curving up to my clitoris with each slow, gyrating thrust.

This was not what I had in mind, but my body did not care. Each thrust was enough to send me spiralling up and up. His hot shaft teased the entrance of my vagina, throbbing and clenching with each slow push. He kept the rhythm soft and steady, his hard grunting pants in my ear making me rise higher and higher.

It was so close to sex, but not, and toeing the line just seemed to drive my body more insane. It was both not enough and too much as he quickened the pace. His chest rubbed against my back as his sweat mingled with mine, our bodies moving with each lubricated thrust.

I was climbing higher and higher, and my head went dizzy as I struggled to breathe between the sheets. I was suffocating, but it only served to drive me higher.

I knew when Lamb was close as his hips began to work harder, his thrusts becoming sharper and bruising into my ass. He slid his hand down from his bracing hold and found my clit. His fingers rubbed the bundle of nerves, hitting the tip of his cock with each thrust, and his hot, gravelly moans in my ear were erotic.

Lamb’s fingers worked faster and faster until we were both about to hit that ledge. My hands dug into the pillow, and Lamb’s clamped down around my wrist as we rose to that final edge together. Lamb’s mouth pressed against the nape of my neck, and too caught up in my moaning climb, I did not realise what he was doing before Lamb bit into my skin, and that sharp spike of pain sent me over.

Fire burst over my skin, and my orgasm exploded like fireworks over my body. It erupted from every cell and ricocheted over every nerve and fibre of my being, cosmic euphoria flooded through me. My hips tremored and shook against Lamb as his thrusts powered faster and faster through my rippling orgasm until he hardened against me and pushed between my folds just in time to let his hot stream pump over my vagina and between my lips. The wet warmth dripped onto the sheets, but I did not care.

Lamb collapsed against me, our body fluids mixing between us as we both struggled to catch our breaths.

Exhaustion took over; my energy spent from the chaos of the day, the panic at the bar, and now Lamb had drained the last of my reserves. I turned just enough to breathe free of a pillowcase, and air pulled into my lungs, but my body refused to move anymore. I was wet, damp, and hot, but all I could feel was my body sinking into the softness of the bed, marinating in Lamb’s scent and heat until darkness dragged me under, promising me something I had not had in a long time.

Sweet oblivion.