Page 30 of Lamb

The bath water felt cold, and my skin broke with goosebumps.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I might simply dislike you?” I brushed him off, averting my gaze into my reflection, the bleary-eyed, warped woman staring back at me, as unease weighed on my chest.

I knew the moments he was referring to.

I had never been oblivious to Lamb’s nature. At first, something had felt off, and I had never been able to put my finger on it. As time went on, and our interactions and shared spaces overlapped during my brief stay with the Black Angels, my suspicions had grown.

Nevertheless, I was not walking around, acting as if I was Lamb’s own lie detector. In fact, I had spent more effort trying to avoid him than earn his attention. Ironic, considering my current situation.

“That look.” Lamb leaned forwards again, ignoring my comment as he joined my reflection bathwater’s surface. I refused to look towards him, staring down only at the rippling mirage of his face. His warmth invaded my space, so close I could feel his words roll over his tongue and caress my cheek. “It intrigued me.”

In the water, a hand moved forwards, reaching out to touch me. It lingered midair, only a hair’s breadth away, and my skin electrified with anticipation as it grew closer.

It never came.

Lamb rose from my side, moving his seat towards the back of the claw tub as I released the breath I’d unknowingly held.

He settled behind my shoulders, and I watched him from the corner of my eye. “Sit back,” Lamb ordered before waiting patiently for me to respond.

I lingered, considering his command. As indecision flittered through me, he sat in silence, waiting. An image of Lamb, thousands of years from now, unchanging and eternal, sat in the same place, with the same expression, ever patient, passed through my mind. An intense emotion I could not decipher settled on my chest. It was as heavy as stone, but it was neither uncomfortable nor painful. I shook it loose, staring at the mortal man staring back at me. If I focused, a little remnant of that weight remained beneath my ribs and the image lingered behind my closed eyes.

I shifted, the water cooling around my body, and instead of fighting this uncertain change, something else crept in. Curiosity purred in my ear, and something about that lingering weight had my resistance crumbling.

With a tight breath, I gripped the tub, angling my back towards him, and settled against the smooth porcelain curve. The mirror edges were fogged with moisture, but in the middle, I saw my face looking back.

The creak of his stool bounced across the tiles before it settled behind my head.

“Sit still,” Lamb said, adjusting himself behind me.

I stared through the tall mirror, fastened to the scene unravelling inside. Lamb was tall, but the low sides of the tub and the even lower stool bowed his back and shoulders.

He pumped some lotion or shampoo and began to lather his hands, suds and bubbles building with each rough caress. With ease, he pulled the length of my hair over the edge, the wash of water showering the floor at his feet. With care and extreme concentration, he started to detangle what others would have long since given up on, myself included. I wanted to yank myhair from his grasp, to scathe and hiss at the touch I’d grown far too comfortable with, but an unusual emotion gave me pause.

Curiosity stilled my hands, and instead, I watched him work.

“You should just cut it,” I said, allowing my grip on the tub to ease as Lamb magically worked through my hair, not a single tug or pull to be felt. “It is not worth the effort of fixing.”

“How do you know if you haven’t ever tried?” Lamb responded, voice distracted as his eyes were locked on his task.

“You can tell just by looking at it. It is a mess. It will take hours to unravel it all.”

“Just because something is hard work, doesn’t mean it’s not worth the effort.” Lamb glanced up, catching me off guard and red-handed spying. His dark, rapturing gaze caught mine through our reflection, and for a moment, I was smothered by the pressure, the deeper meaning behind his words. I swallowed, my throat feeling tight, and with great strength, my eyes turned back to the murky water.

Silence followed for a long moment, the water growing colder while Lamb patiently began to pull a strand from the rest of the strands. He produced a comb from somewhere out of sight, and I only felt its soft tension running over my scalp and down the lengths.

“Is that what you are doing to me?” I whispered, my voice barely enough to disturb the water’s surface. “Trying to fix me?”

Lamb stopped. The comb dropped to the tile floor, and the stool creaked.

My gaze snapped to the mirror as he rose to his full height, becoming a figure towering high above my prone body. My blood thickened, my skin prickled, and my body coiled.

He reached over me, his warmth and scent rushing over my skin and senses, and I’d have leapt straight from the tub if it was not for the sheer space his limber form covered. Instead, my muscles coiled, and I could see the small, faint growth of hair onhis throat, so close to me I could reach out and bite his Adam’s apple. It was a vulnerable area. If I hit him quick enough, with surprise on my side, I could escape before—

Lamb gave the tap a swift turn.

Hot water gargled and poured from the ornate vintage gold taps, and with its rapidly travelling heat, I realised how cold I had grown. The goosebumps on my skin shivered with delight at the warmth subduing them back under the surface.

“Do you think you’re not worth it?” Lamb asked, not looking as he settled back down on his seat, picking back up the comb and continuing his work.

---