Page 31 of Lamb

His scent lingered on my tongue, and I bit back the urge to chastise myself for readying an attack. Until it reoccurred to me that I had been kidnapped. I should have taken the chance to escape while I had it.

Instead, I considered his question, as if I had not been building the courage to kill him vampire-style. “I think there is an easier solution to your problem.”

“Killing you?” Lamb phrased the question so simply. Perhaps it was.

“Surely, you have heard ofOccam’s Razor?” I shrugged, the shift in my thoughts was not too big a leap. The threat Lamb posed to me in the present, and the threat I posed to everybody else in the future. “‘The simplest solution is often the correct one.’”I recited; the words summoned from a dusty shelf in my memory. “I am the reason your club is being targeted. Without me, the threat on you would disappear.”

“‘Extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof,’”Lamb murmured. “Sagan’s Standard.” He allowed my hair to drop down the tub’s side, a new lightness to its fall. Then he looked up, his bitter chocolate eyes carving through the mirror. “You can tell me that it’d be easier to be rid of you, but you can’t prove it.”

“Neither can you.”

I gasped at the touch of Lamb’s fingers, long and lubricated with conditioner as they glided over my bare skin, down until they rested on the smooth, shiny scar over my shoulder. My heartbeat thrummed beneath his touch, and I was sure he felt the ripple under my skin.

Everything screamed at me to lunge out of his grasp, but it fell on deaf ears. I was anchored beneath his hand, unable to do anything but feel the electrifying sensation burning into my skin. I watched, Lamb’s eyes unmoving from mine in the mirror as he leaned his head down over the bath, his head dropping next to my shoulder.

His mouth opened, and warm breath tingled over my damp skin. “The difference between you and I,” Lamb purred, my body vibrating with the tremor of his words, “is that with every means disposable to me, Iwill provethat my choice is the correct one.” With his other hand, he reached up, finger cupping my chin and turning my head, eyes directly staring into mine, no more mirror between us. “Even if it means proving it to you, as well.”

He kissed me.

The taste of his tongue as it slipped past my lips flooded my mouth and brain with overpowering lust. I was both attached and distant to the version of me with the man pressing his mouth to mine, his warmth bleeding into my body, reaching deeper and further into me than I ever thought possible, my mind screaming far in the distance.

Lamb pressed deeper, and his tongue tangled with mine. The more I fought to resist, the more my body caved to the demand, wanting to give in.

I twisted in the water, turning for better access, as his hand on my shoulder travelled up my skin, settling at the base of my neck, setting a blazing fire along its path. His fingerssplayed over my throat, his thumb pressed on the pulse rapidly pounding beneath.

I could not breathe, my head spinning and my heart squeezing in my chest and—

Lamb pulled away.

The cold rush of air running over my damp lips was like artic water over my head. I jerked away from him, clamping my hand over my mouth, disbelief trampling over my mind and body.

What was I doing?

Lamb reached over, his hand tightening the tap back to close, the water just about to spill over the edge. His hand stayed fixed on the tap long after the water had stopped, knuckles turning white, eyes fixed hard on the metal faucet.

What felt like years passed only in a handful of seconds.

Lamb turned away, collecting a towel from the counter. He stopped a step further from the tub than before, the towel extended at the edge of his reach.

In those few actions, Lamb had managed a factory reset. His expression was calm and neutral, mirroring the same face I had seen when I had first entered the bathroom. Before he had ambushed me with his mouth. Before he had set fire to my soul and shattered my resolve in a single, spirit-stealing kiss.

Was it a hallucination?

My tongue tingled with his taste, my lips swollen, and a sore ache throbbed in my jaw. It had been no hallucination.

I did not know what expression I wore as I took the towel from him, feeling incredulous as I watched him turn his back in a rare show of privacy. I could not take my eyes off him as I pulled myself to my feet, my body weak and shivering as the warmth of the water receded. I tugged the plush towel around my shoulders, tucking it tight under my chin, my eyes staking steel daggers into the wide back presented as something else crawled its way up. Through the shock and newfound bitternessat his retreat, a new emotion was lurking. Something hotter. Something …angrier.

“Why are you doing this?”

Lamb did not turn. Instead, he cocked his head, turning just enough for his ear to angle towards me. And that was all. He said nothing to my question, and nothing to the tone it carried.

“There is no point in being kind to me.” I tasted the bitter venom on my tongue, spitting the words as frustration fought for dominance. “Do not look after me. Do not try to help me. Do notkissme.”

My long, wet hair whipped around me, snapping and coiling around my slick skin. I stared at it, the dark length reaching farther down than I last recalled. There was so much of it all at once, everywhere, touching everything. It was unfamiliar, and the anger that had slowly been rising vanished. Like a train jolted from its tracks, the emotions surged, the power and control rushed forwards and, with no path to go, something else opened its arms instead.

I was numb, and overwhelmed, and stupid, rising to my knees in his heated bath, the air cold and biting against my wet skin, the soft towel suffocating around my shoulders, my smooth hair like a net tangling my limbs. I shoved with my arms, water sloshing over the edge of the bath and splashing onto the floor as I began to push and scratch at the dark web glued to me. The more I pulled away, the more that seemed to appear, tightening and wrapping around me. I could not escape it. It was everywhere. I could not get free. I could notbreathe.

“I should not be like this … I should not be—” I fought to speak; my throat tied into knots. My lungs burned, and my chest ached as I pushed my ribs to open, to fill. Sharp noises rang like a shrill bell in my head, pounded like a gong over, and over, and over again. I was speaking, but I could not hear myself anymore. I did not know if I was making sense. I knew mymouth was moving, but my tongue was dry, and each word felt like sandpaper scratching my voice box.

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