Page 104 of Lamb

Wolf.

I sighed, my burning, newfound libido deflating in disappointment. “Go,” I sighed, stepping back.

Lamb’s mouth quirked with a little smile before he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “I’ll come find you soon,” Lamb promised, his hand dropping from my waist. He stepped to move aside, but before I could even turn, hot, wet lips caught mine, and a tongue delved into my mouth.

He was hot and impatient, and the kiss set aflame my desires once more before Lamb pulled away, licking his damp lips, his heated gaze staring into my own. “I’ll show you everything you’re capable of,” Lamb promised, and without another beat, he turned and dissipated into the crowd of people, leaving me alone, horny and soaking wet in the corner of the room.

Great.

Unable to do anything about my wet panties, or my raging hormones, I chose to wander around the room, trying to find any quiet place to hide away. People were caught up in their indulgences—alcohol, sex, music, and more sex. Some even had the odd spliff in their hand, taking long drags into the air before passing it onto the girl in their lap then stripping off layers of clothes. Nothing went the full way out in the open, I noticed,but hands were in trousers and many knickers and bras had vanished into the void of the clubroom. They would never be seen again until the clean-up crew came in. I felt sorry for the poor person who had that job. I bet the pay was great, though.

Standing at the far edge of the room, my eyes sifted through the crowd, sorting faces I recognised from those I did not. There were many I saw and, for the first time, with some clarity from a distance. I could always recognise people, but the glasses extended the distance I could do that with.

It was interesting.

Until it was not.

A bright flash of red hair whisked through the crowd like a trail of smoke stolen by a strong breeze. I chased the colour through dark denim and black leather until they vanished from view. Part of me wished I had gotten a better view; another part was glad I had not. As sure as I was that they had managed to see and recognise me, I knew that it was likely Kay or Mallory who had seen me and that neither would have welcomed me.

There were two more people whom I had betrayed. Two more I had cast aside their goodwill and help. Two more people I had sinned against.

Feeling the overwhelming awareness of being the outsider looking in, I struggled to settle the uncomfortable weight on my chest. Many did not pay attention to me, and those who did were either too drunk to care or sober enough to know to ignore me.

I wanted out of this party, and out of this room, but the crowd was thick and dense, and just as I stepped foot, I realised I was trapped.

A large, bellied biker rocked up next to me, a beer swaying in his hand, the contents already sloshed over his hairy knuckles and down half of his shirt. His eyes were glazed and unfocused as he squinted down at me. I wasn’t small, but the man wasmuch larger than I was, more so in width than height, but it was more than enough to make me concerned.

I stepped out of his reach, moving further down the wall my back had come against. The harsh chips and scratches in the raw wood rubbed against my shoulders as I shimmied past the other partygoers.

A hand snagged my wrist, and I spun, ready to break free.

Stale, warm beer splashed over my face and hair, the liquid running over my skin and into the dip of my shirt.

“Sorry, babe.” The man chuckled to himself, slurring the noise. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Get off me,” I seethed, tugging on my wrist wrapped tightly inside his meaty paw.

I took a breath, trying to curb my temper. I had no weapon, no strength, and no options. We were at a party where I already stood on thin ice. The last thing I needed was to cause a commotion and give the Black Angels another thousand reasons to kick me to the curb.

The beer drizzled through my lips, the bitter taste on the tip of my tongue. I had toyed with the idea of falling off the wagon. I had wondered what I would have tasted if I had even a sip of the whiskey Jax had obliterated into the bar. Wondered if even a drop of the alcohol’s bitter warmth would be enough to seduce me into oblivion.

Now, as just a drop slipped down my throat, I realised I was wrong.

I wretched, the taste of it like acid down my gullet, ready to project my earlier butterscotch ice cream all over the invasive man. I would return his favour in kind.

“Don’t be like that, sweet thing, I know you club sluts all want a piece.” He put the bottle to his lips, unable to lift it high enough to drink the tiny remnants left in the bottle. He didn’t notice, gasping as if he had swallowed a mouthful.

I wanted to retort his ridiculous comment, to tell him the only piece of him anyone would want would be a piece of the knife I would ram through his chest if he came any closer. No words came, though, as I slapped my hand over my mouth, the bitter bile cresting at the back of my mouth. I felt clammy and cold, and the longer the man held me, the smaller the room became.

I wanted out. Out of this situation. Out of this room. Justout.

“Let go, fatass,” a voice bit through my darkening world.

One moment, my hand was locked in his; the next, the man reeled back, holding his hand to his chest, anger red across his drunken face. I stared at it with the same shock he mirrored. But just as my hand was out of his, another latched around my wrist and dragged me into the crowd.

I tried to calm my breathing, taking short breaths in and long breaths out as I was all but hauled like cattle, knocking past body after body, some shouts and grunts whipping past until we both came stumbling into a quieter hallway.

It was short and vacant, but the noise of the party boomed dully behind me as my kidnapper swung the door shut.

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