Page 29 of Lamb

Less than a second passed before Ash, in a rare spurt of energy, whipped her hand out of the bed, and the resounding clatter of metal bounced off the wall behind me.

I felt the smile this time.

I walked over to collect the two broken clock hands. I stared down at the pair of accomplices that had caused the scuffs around the door’s lock. The hands were too small and too delicate to have had any chance against the heavier-duty lock. I was proud of the ingenuity, however lacking the results were.

I glanced over my shoulder, a flare of hair spread back over the pillow, blanket wrapped tightly around her neck. The serene picture that had been painted when I’d first walked in was now once again in focus.

I picked up the abandoned empty tray of food, leaving behind the new one. Steam had stopped trailing from the surface, but I knew it would still be warm enough for now. “Try having something to eat,” I advised. “I’ll be back later.”

Balancing the tray back in one hand, I opened the door, pulling loose the key from my back pocket as I turned to leave.

“Do not,” Ash growled, the noise so quiet I almost missed it, “come back.”

I paused for a heartbeat.

Then I walked out of the room and locked the door behind me.

Chapter Eight

ASH

My watcher never slept.

As if he always had a ready supply of batteries to exchange throughout the night, it was impossible to find a means of escape. It simply added to my theory that Lamb was not human, but a fantastical feat of engineering and AI technology gone wild.

“You’re thinking deeply about something.” Lamb’s voice slipped into my thoughts.

I looked up in the mirror at him, powered with what little energy I could muster. My restricted supply of alcohol kept my addiction at bay, but that was about it. Feeling as if I was in a constant state of hungover, my day-to-day life was becoming a challenge. I swayed with the ripple of the bath water, wanting nothing more than to press my face into my thighs and sleep there.

“I am tired,” I grumbled, the warm water bleeding through my skin and deep into my bones.

Fingers grazed my face, and for a moment, I let them.

Then my mind sobered, and I jerked my head back, glowering at the offended palm left hovering in the air.

Lamb did not look discouraged; he never did. Instead, his hand followed my motion, once more cupping the damp skin of my cheek, his chocolate eyes transfixed on the movement. He brushed away a stray strand of hair sticking to my skin, and I fought not to press my spine any harder against the back of the tub.

“If you want to sleep, then sleep,” Lamb uttered, his low and rumbling tone touching a deep, instinctual part of my brain. I shook it off.

“I want to leave,” I replied, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “Let me leave.”

Lamb’s soft and curious expression vanished. “I’m acting in your best interests,” he explained, eyes flickering between mine, searching for something in them. “You can trust me.”

“So long as my interest aligns with yours, you mean?” I brushed away the lingering rogue hand and sat up, allowing myself to lean closer to him. I could smell his woodsy cologne mixing with the soft floral scents of the bathwater. “I am not a fool, Lamb. Play me however you want, but at least do not lie to me.”

“I haven’t,” Lamb said. “I haven’t once tried to deceive you. Not truly.”

That stunned me.

“Yet another lie,” I managed, shaking my head with incredulous disbelief.

Lamb sat back from the bath stool, where he had managed to inch himself closer over the days. At five p.m., without fail, Lamb would draw a bath for me, and during my moment of freedom from my room, I was not to be left unsupervised.

“It’s not useful to lie to someone who can see through them.” Lamb shrugged, giving me an appraising stare.

I frowned. “I do not know—”

“I saw it the moment I met you,” he interrupted. “From the way you’d never catch my eye, how you avoided me at all opportunities, and even now, you shy away from my touch. You, from the get-go, have seen througheverything.”

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