33. Ash

Chapter Thirty-Three

ASH

S omeone had filled my shoes with cement. Or it felt like that at least, as I trudged through the large double glass doors towering several feet above my head. The glossy, pristinely polished floor reflected a hideous monster as I looked down at my blurry visage—tangled mess piled on my head, flushed red cheeks on a hollowed pale face, and eyes glossy and frosted with exhaustion.

“Mr. Wolfe.” A man rushed up to our side, the bustling hotel brimming with people.

I looked up and around the banquet hall they called a lobby. Everything was polished marble, gold encrusted, and decorated with plants so lush and full of vitality. In a brief passage of weakness, I wondered how much a leaf would sell for. They would not notice just one missing … right?

“We have your suite ready, sir.” The man, dressed in a tight suit, slicked back hair, and a clean-shaven face, beamed at Lamb. Of the two of us, I had weathered far worse on the bike trip, and even in the supercar, I had crashed, burned, and let exhaustion take hold until we had come to a greeted welcome outside the doors of Hotel De La More.

“Thank you, Jason. I know it was last minute.” Lamb, with a face I had never seen before, gave the man a thousand-watt smile before taking the keycard out of his hands.

“Would you like your luggage sent up to your room?” he offered.

Lamb raised a palm. “That won’t be necessary.”

With a knowing smile, the man nodded. “Of course. The boutiques will be awaiting your arrival. I assure you, as always, we have all the latest trends and designs ready for your perusal. Tailoring is no question, either.”

“I expect no less.” Lamb scooped his arm around my waist, pulling my weak body flush to his side.

Jason glanced down at me, and if he had any thoughts, they did not show. Catering to the rich and famous had carved a fine gem out of him. I was sure I was not the first piece of trash dragged through their pearly doors.

“Does Wolf know?” I scoffed. “That you use his name as an alias?”

Lamb smirked, not capable of even an ounce of shame.

That meant no . I was sure Wolf would be flattered. Not.

Lamb pulled me with a confident stride over to the far side of the lobby. Rows and rows of elevators lined the walls, but Lamb did not stop. People waiting to ride followed him with their eyes. There were a few sneers and frowns at my appearance following in tow. I was too tired to care, and as we moved towards the end of the corridor, their faces fell out of view.

As more golden elevator doors passed beside us, I feared I would have to walk another mile before I finally got to stop. I was sure this hotel was wider on the inside than on the outside, and as exhaustion clung to my eyes, my weary limbs growing heavier with each step, we finally stopped.

Another set of elevator doors reflected our tired expressions. They were taller than the others with an ornate frame and intricate details of leaves and ivy welded onto the jet-black doors. It was beautiful, grand, and screamed money, except for a single thing.

There was no button.

I frowned at the metal doors, my eyes jumping up and around, squinting hard as I tried to see if the button was concealed or magnet-activated. I took way too long, invested in my search before his saccharine smile burnt into the back of my neck.

I spun, eyes narrowing as Lamb gazed down at me with a dewy, amused smile. He looked soft and human, and unfamiliar. “Are you having a nice time, Mr. Wolfe? ”

“A little,” Lamb mused, his arm flexing against my back.

“Well”—I gestured to the elevator—“I take it you have a keycard or a secret button, or an open sesame, or —”

A loud woosh cut me off as the two doors began to slide open.

My jaw dropped. “How…?”

Lamb shook his head. He tugged me along as I stared at the door. It closed behind us with a silent whisper, not a single button pressed, and I felt the familiar gravitational shift as we began to rise up.

And up.

And up.

“I am going to die before I get to sleep,” I groaned, my head planted into the crook of Lamb’s neck. I had long since given up carrying my body, allowing my weight to sink into his strong, reliable figure. Bastard did not even look a little tired.

If his hair was not mussed by his helmet, and his shirt a little creased from where my hands had locked around his waist, then you would never have guessed he had high-tailed it across the state at neck-braking speeds. He kept a loose arm around my back. His warm, woodsy scent mixed with leather and sweat sank me deeper into sleepiness.

The car ride was nice and smooth, but all it did was highlight the stiffness and ache of my muscles from clinging to Lamb for dear life.

A ping and woosh pulled open the black doors, revealing the interior of a beautiful, luxurious suite. Everything from the billboards, and movies, and dreams was in a mass open plan modern suite. A fruit bowl, wine, and fresh flowers were presented as elaborate gifts on the centre table, along with a small handwritten note reading, “ Mr. Wolfe ,” in swirly lettering. But everything was mediocre compared to the view. A vast wall of windows swung in a smooth curve in a single sheet of glass. The black skyline of the city, now sunken in twilight, shimmered and glittered like stars in the night. If not for the reflective glow of the room lights, and my figure staggering forward, hands pressing into its surface, I would have believed there was a hole in the building. Believed if I stepped forward, I would fall into the inky abyss of the city.

“It is stunning,” I breathed.

Despite my origins being old money, I had never seen a penny spent on luxury. Not for me, at least. I had never dreamed of stepping foot into this type of place. Not as a rich daughter. Or as a murderer. Or a washed-up alcoholic.

“I hate it,” I breathed, my fingers pressed flat into the cool glass, a burning swelled behind my eyes. Even though I could not make out the buildings, their shapes were an encompassing dark blur with twinkling lights, it was breathtaking. And for that, I hated it.

“Not the usual reaction.” Lamb slid in beside me, his face manifesting in the reflection of the glass, warm hands sliding around my waist as he fit his body like a puzzle piece against my back. “But I wouldn’t expect that from you either.” He leant down, his wild hair brushing the side of my jaw as his warm lips peppered kisses across my cold skin.

I turned in his hold, my back pressed against the cool glass, his warmth now soaking into my breasts and waist. Chocolate-brown eyes stared down at me with that calm curiosity that always lingered.

“We need to talk.”

“Are we not?” Lamb frowned, the puppy dog ignorance a lost cause. Perhaps if I did not know his nature, I might believe the sweet facade.

“What happened at the club? The FBI?” I stared hard into his eyes. “You knew they were coming.”

To have been absent for days only to turn up like a knight on a chrome steed to steal me away at the perfect moment was impossible odds.

“You never ask for anything until it’s times like these.” Lamb sighed, his tone bitter and disappointed. “Are you not willing to be ignorant? At least just for tonight?” He pulled me tighter into his chest, and I became acquainted with the stiffness in his jeans. “We can get a bath together, and I’ll wash your hair and fuck you till you can’t walk.” He leaned in close, the punctuated words sending trembling shivers down my spine where they pooled at my core. “Then I’ll carry you to bed, and I’ll fuck you again. Then we’ll sleep with you in my arms. No dreams. No nightmares. Just sleep.”

An impossible promise. Lamb was capable of many feats, but controlling my nightmares and dreams was simply out of his reach. Despite how tempting his offer was, regardless of his supernatural abilities, I quashed my libido, her screams falling on deaf ears as I shook my head.

“I have spent most of my life in ignorance.” I considered his words, my thoughts leaking out as I processed them in real time. “But that had never been my choice. If I had been given one …”

As my words trailed off, I saw the understanding bloom in Lamb’s eyes. It had been there from the moment we had walked in. He knew I would ask. He had just hoped I would not.

“The FBI raid …” I prompted, my fingers finding purchase in fistfuls of Lamb’s leather jacket. “It was for me?”

There was a beat of hesitation. He nodded.

Lamb told me everything.

T ime ticked by slowly, each jerk of the large Art Deco clock hand hanging above the electric fireplace like a foreboding message.

My father knew I was alive.

He had prompted that raid to flush me out, and his plan had succeeded. News would have run through deft ears to reach his side, and even if the FBI had not managed to identify me, it would not take a genius to figure out what woman had hightailed it straight out of Fellpeak. There was no smoke without fire, after all.

The proverbial clock was ticking. It would only be a matter of time for him to confirm my location and send death straight to my door. Perhaps, this time it would arrive at last.

“Babe.” Lamb’s soft whisper tunnelled through my miasmic thoughts. I looked up, catching those brown eyes searching desperately across my face for the small shards of emotion he had taught himself to read. Using all those skills he had developed to survive in such a cruel world, to try to read a heart that had long since grown cold and tired.

“This is the reason why we are here,” Lamb pressed, and for a moment, his words sat on the stagnant waters of my mind. As they began to sink in, I had forgotten one important rule. Lamb never did anything without a reason.

“We are not in this hotel to hide … are we?”

Lamb shook his head. “To gain the upper hand, it’s best to strike first.”

“Wait.” I pressed my hands against his firm chest, feeling my own tighten as thoughts invaded my mind. Dangerous, panicked thoughts. In the time we had spent together, a part of me had learned to witness the world in the way Lamb might see it. To see what I could utilise. To see what was necessary and what was not. To know the best course of action, disregarding any emotional influence.

And what I saw now frightened me deep to my core.

“Why are we here, Lamb?” My voice was thick and tight, and I had to force the words out, knowing, deep down, I was afraid of the answer.

“There’s a gala happening in town,” Lamb explained. Something about my expression must have flagged a red sign at him as his words turned cautious, eyeing me weary with a confused frown knitting into his brow. “Your father … he’s the guest of honour.”

He was here. In this city.

He was right here.

Blood rushed from my brain. It pooled in my feet and turned to stone. My heart racketed against my ribs, my fingers tingling, and my extremities grew cold. Loud, deafening noise rang in my ears as the world around me grew so distant, so far away.

I could feel my chest tighten. I was struggling for breath. I could feel Lamb’s hands on me, his mouth moving with lost words.

And I could do nothing.

My father’s chilling voice revived in my memory. From the past, when I was young and na?ve and only wished to please him, to the cold voice that fired six bullets through my body, praying that I would die. They overlapped and intermingled, variations of the past becoming indistinguishable, visions and memories blending until I could not tell when from where.

I was trapped.

“ASH!” Lamb snapped, my neck burning with pain as darkness swam across my vision. His familiar hands wrapped around the back of my neck as pressure pushed on my chest. Where was I? Where—

It was not darkness. The black material of the sofa was pressed so close to my nose that I was unable to distinguish it. Light shimmered off its leather surface, and I realised Lamb was holding my head between my knees. My back burned at the sudden extension, lacking the flexibility but having no choice.

“Breathe for me slowly.” Lamb rubbed the edge of my neck with his thumb, running up and down as I tried to inhale to the rhythm. “Good girl.”

My hands trembled, nails dug deep into the cushions as my chest slowed with each calm intake, sensation returned to my limbs, and the voices and memories faded.

“You can let go now,” I grumbled, unsure how long I could stay folded like a paper crane.

Lamb’s grip softened, his fingers gingerly tracing the slope of my neck before disappearing entirely.

My back protested, and my head swooned as I adjusted back up to a seat, my eyes meeting the face of the man crouched in front of me, his skin a shade paler than before. He sat on his haunches, eyes racing across my features, scanning me in the little robotic way he constantly did. Searching for an answer he might find but might not understand.

I lifted my hand, cupping the long length of his face. The briefest tingles remained as I pressed them against his cheek and felt the warmth of his skin slip into my white fingers. It was in moments like this, his face fixed with little to no expression, just searching for something to interact with, that I could see the child in him. His mind might not work like others, but in his bizarre and uncanny actions, there were threads of emotion, of desperation, of doubt, and of insecurity. It was enough. He was enough.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” I leaned forward, pressing my lips softly against his forehead, lingering there briefly as I smelt the dirt, dust, and woodsy scent of his hair. “So”—I pushed back my hair, trying to tame the beast behind my ears—“I am bait after all.”

Lamb shook his head. “I brought you here to build an opportunity,” he explained, turning over my palms as his fingers began to trace the creases, his soothing gesture. “You wanted your revenge, and so I’ve brought you your chance.”

“My chance …” I could not fathom the possibility. My father still stood tall, as a cold and vengeful god in my mind, and even if I wanted to slaughter him where he stood, I was no different from the girl in the warehouse, chemical rags bandage over my eyes, tied to a chair, that man abandoning me to the murderous whim of my stepmother. Time had passed but all I had done was gain more scars. “I do not think I—”

“No.” Lamb frowned, and I saw the struggle to process the implication of my words. It was outright dismissed as he shook his head, reaching for my hands, grasping them between his own larger, warmer palms. “You are mine,” Lamb said, his eyes squinted with thought, his processor whirring loud enough for me to hear. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

“It is a beautiful notion, but—”

“No, Ash. You don’t understand.” Lamb’s hands squeezed. “For your sake, I can become invincible. I can become your sanctuary. I have never reached the end of my capabilities, and if you wish for it, I will become your untouchable shield. Even in front of your father, I will not fail.”

If I had ever thought Lamb was capable of love, devotion, and affection, I would still never have predicted that this struggled, grand promise would ever leave his lips. I had never known that this man, who had latent emotions and a genius efficient brain, would have something akin to a heart.

I leaned forward, my fingers escaping his palm to find his solid, stubbled jaw. I wrapped my fingers around his chin and tipped his face towards mine. I soaked in those boiling honey eyes, their endless abyss no longer frightening but inviting. I breathed in his scent, finding his lips and closing mine around them. It was soft and sweet, and Lamb let me do as I pleased as I imparted something that words could not show. He might not understand the message, but it was enough for me to pass it on.

“You are capable of love, Lamb,” I breathed, his taste still wet on my lips. “Perhaps not in the way you think, or that people would understand, but it is in your actions. And to me, that is valuable beyond measure.”

I knew Lamb was not convinced, nor would he ever be. But that was okay. It was enough for me to say and for him to listen.

Lamb’s hands found purchase against my neck, his thumb pressing into the softness of my jaw as he tugged me close once more, his scent enveloping me, his taste coating my tongue and lips. He pushed up from his knees, his long legs lifting him high above me as he pressed harder into the kiss. The couch hugged my back, holding me firm as he knelt on the cushions, caging me between his firm thighs.

I gripped his jeans, my fingers tightening in his belt loops, anchoring him to me as I tried to lift my body higher into his. I wanted to feel his firm chest against mine, his armoured abs between my thighs, and his hard length rubbing against my aching core.

Raw emotion turned into feverish lust as my hands clambered higher until I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and yanked them up his back. I wanted him naked. I wanted him on me. And I wanted it now.

Our tender kiss turned ravenous as Lamb’s arms slunk down around my waist, and in a single swift motion, he had me up in the air, my legs latching onto his hips, and my head bowed to keep his lips between mine.

His naked chest was hot against my skin, and my clothes began to itch as I made quick work of my own shirt, breaking the kiss just enough to tear the thin material from my head. I did not care where it landed as we moved through the suite, focusing on where our bodies met and the growing frustration of it not being enough. I wanted more. I needed more.

I reached down between us, my tongue still tangling with his, as I fumbled with my jeans, trying to pull the button loose as I quaked in Lamb’s arms.

A wall slammed against my back, my breath catching as it jerked from my lungs.

Lamb’s head dropped as he stared with feverous frustration down at my waist. He pushed my hands aside, making quick work of the button, followed by the zipper, and had the denim halfway down before his hand found home.

My knickers were no match as he slid past the cotton and landed true.

I moaned as his finger slammed straight into my tight channel, the feel of his thick digit rubbing up against my insides making my head spin in circles. My gasping breaths became mewling pants as even just the single digit rocking back and forth inside of me had me grabbing a fistful of his hair as my hips tried to ride his hand.

Lamb pressed me harder against the wall, his head bending into the crook of my neck, his hot, heavy breaths stuck to my bare skin as he pressed soft nips to the swell of my breasts, my bra scratching against my rock-hard nipples.

My rise began to wane as I reached the limit of his single finger. My insides clamped around the digit, begging and pleading for something bigger, wider, hotter.

“Lamb, I want you,” I whimpered, tightening my legs around his waist in urgency. “I want you inside of me.”

Lamb growled, his finger slipping from my core as he wrapped both hands around my arse and the wall disappeared from behind. I hung tighter to his head as he whirled around with lightning speed, and one moment, I was in his arms; the next, I was in free fall.

My stomach lurched as I slammed down into a soft pillowy support. The bed bounced with enthusiastic springs as I was left looking up at the white ceiling, alone.

I flipped onto my stomach, searching through the shapes of the room, trying to find—

A hand pressed against my lower spine, pinning me in place.

“Lamb, what are you—”

His weight leant into my arse as his hot member pressed against my bare back. I felt its imprint, every ridge and bump, searing into my skin like an iron brand.

His hands slid against the edges of my face, and for a moment, something dark crossed my vision.

The blurred shapes before me sharpened as the glasses settled on my face. I stared forward, at my face looking back at me. I was a mess—my hair in a rat’s nest on my head, my face flushed a feverish red, and my lips damp and dewy. Lust screamed from my face.

I was not the only one.

In the tall wardrobe mirror, I saw Lamb standing behind me, his dark brown eyes like molten bronze, his body rigid and hard, poised above mine like a feline predator stalking its prey. His eyes met mine, and I could feel him grow harder against my skin.

Without preparation or warning, his large length stretched me to the edge. I cried out as he pressed all the way to the hilt, his hips pressing into the back of mine, balls cupped between my thighs.

“Fuck, Lamb, I—”

He pulled out, the head sliding all the way to my lips, just holding open my entrance before his hand came down, wrapped around the front of my throat, held me still, and slammed home.

Without waiting for me to adjust or find comfort, he picked up the pace, slamming in and out, to the hilt and to the edge with merciless, powerful thrusts. I could not breathe. I could not think. The angle felt like he was going deeper than he had ever before. I could taste him in the back of my throat, feel him hitting my tonsils, and his fingers tightened their grip as he jerked himself off with my body in the middle.

It was animalistic and rough, and as I saw his lust burning in his eyes, that unhinged powerful energy burning through the mirror, my limp body rendered helpless in his grasp, subject to only pleasure and pain at his only whim.

I melted into his touch, let his control take over as he used me to siphon his pleasure, to facilitate his desire, and to succumb to his raw lust.

I did not realise my orgasm was building. Bursts of pleasure and twinges of discomfort hit the beat as he slammed home deeper and deeper with every thrust. So, when a tsunami of mindless desire rose to the surface, I could not even moan, or scream, or cry as I was lifted to the highest edge I had ever reached.

“Never forget this face,” Lamb growled, nipping at my ear. “Never forget how I feel inside of you. Even if your vision fades, burn this memory into your body. You belong to me.”

Hard, and fast, and encompassing, my body spasmed and shook as pleasure thundered across my nerves. Wave after wave after wave rendered my body euphoric as I rode the tsunami with devastating destruction. As the slamming waves turned to lapping oceans, Lamb’s seed seeped from my centre, running down my thighs and onto the sheets. I had not felt him come, but now his warmth soaked inside of me as his dick calmed within my body.

My brain was broken, and my body became mush as I stewed in the remnants of quiet, exhausting pleasure. My orgasm rippled through my nerves, fried and wired in content satisfaction.

Lamb moved around me, the bright light disappearing into ambient darkness as a wet cloth ran between my legs before I was moved, and a sheet was draped over my naked skin.

Lamb slid in behind me, locking into place, his hands wrapping around me in a protective, warm embrace, head nuzzled into the back of my neck.

As dreams started to lull my consciousness, I heard a soft mumble across my skin.

“I protect what is mine.”

If I had energy, perhaps I would have spoken. Or moved. Or breathed. But I had none, and instead, I let the words settle on my mind as I drifted into sleep.

I found company in the night.

Even at the height of my exhaustion, my sleep had been fragile.

I stared out at the moonlight, its soft white light washing over my skin as I sat, my feet tucked up on a chair beneath the comfort of the provided white robe. I stared listlessly at the wide, dark sky and the unsleeping city glimmering beneath it.

Turning my head, I stared at something far more beautiful and dazzling. The raw ache of my body burned at the sight of the naked man, his best parts tucked beneath the thin white sheet, the warmth of the suite’s heating doing its best to keep winter beyond the glass, as the rest of his body laid exposed to the elements, long and limber.

I stood from my chair, my tender, tired feet moving silently atop the dense cushioned carpet as I neared his side of the bed.

Asleep and relaxed, his calm face, nuzzled into the soft duck feather pillows, looked young. He wore no confusion, and even his sharp features were softened by the touches of shadow. His mussed blond hair was pale in the white moonlight.

I wanted to reach out and touch him. To feel his skin against my palm, and his warm on my skin. But I knew my resolve would melt at the warmth of his body. Knew that I would falter.

It would just make my decision harder.

I curled my fingers tight against my chest, turned, and did what I did best.

I walked away.