Page 64 of Lamb

Covering the short distance between us in two long steps, his deep brown eyes swallowed me whole. Now he was seeing me, a solid, malleable being in front of him. “You’re hesitating.”

“Well, I just …” I began to fumble with my hands, picking at the rough, calloused skin around my fingers. “Is it even worth it? Does it really matter? Can I not stay the way I am?”

Lamb’s hands closed over mine, stopping the nervous gesture. His gaze was searching, looking deep into my soul and seeing much more than they should. “You can,” Lamb responded. “It’ll make my plan more difficult, but if you don’t want to do this, I won’t force you. It means nothing if this isn’t your own decision.”

Returning his searching stare, I saw no judgement or disappointment on his face. It was just as he said. Lamb had no expectations of me, no demands, no requirements.

It was truly my own decision.

“How will it make your plan more difficult?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. Lamb had slung the word “plan” around as if he owned it, and yet I was no closer to figuring out what he meant by it—if he meant anything at all. Lamb was the type to have a plan for everything, from A to Z. It would be alphabetically categorised like his bookshelves, of course.

“A good plan needs two things,” Lamb began. “Means and opportunity. My part will be to provide the means.”

“And the opportunity?” I asked, lured into his lecture.

Lamb’s hand scooped up my chin, his thumb holding my jaw still. A knowing smile pulled his lips into a soft curve. “You.”

I frowned, wanting to escape his touch, but Lamb’s hold was firm. He refused to let me back away and did not let my eyes leave his.

“What about me?”

“You are my opportunity, Ash.” Lamb’s other hand touched my face, his finger running along the side of my cheek, leaving tingles in its wake. He traced it along the side of my jaw, migrating down the muscles taut in my neck before resting just above my collar bone, finger pressed to my pulse. Somehow, it always ended there, like a pigeon flying home.

“You want to use me as bait?” I scoffed; the notion was almost hilarious to me. Meanwhile, something rattled quietly in my chest.

“It’s not the word I would have used, but you could say that.” Lamb shrugged. “Your father has few weaknesses; you are the most reasonable option to exploit.” He tilted his head to theside as he searched my face, trying to piece together whatever emotions were bubbling up there.

“Speak,” Lamb insisted, a frown wrinkling his brow. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

“I do not know whether to be shocked that you thought it was fine to use someone as bait, or that you think that I would be okay with that. Or that you think I am my father’s weakness.”

“It’s a means to an end.” Lamb shrugged. If he had not held onto it, my jaw would have hit the floor. “I don’t need to justify my means, only getting my end.”

“And that is …?”

“Marrying you.”

A hole opened, and it swallowed me whole. That or a brain tumour had finally taken hold of me, because I swear to God, I was hallucinating. Heat burst across every nerve, energy electrifying my skin. I did not know what I was feeling, but it was uncomfortable and overwhelming, my mind both numb and racing.

“You are not right in the head, are you?” The words stumbled out of my mouth, my own brain struggling through what he said.

Lamb smiled. “No, I’m not,” he agreed. He let go of my chin at long last, and I ducked out of his grasp, my palms cupping my cheeks. They felt cool against my flushed skin, and even crowded against the couch, I could breathe again.

“I haven’t forgotten our bet,” Lamb said. “Whether you choose to detox or not, I will not lose.”

“Oh my God.” I shook my head. “Youareserious. I thought you were joking.”

“I’d never joke about such a thing,” Lamb’s smugness faded, and in its place, a steeled expression held his features. “With you, I am honest.Mostly.”

“Forgive me for not realising that, R2-D2.” I rolled my eyes because, really, what was I supposed to think? This man hadthe emotional capacity of a cactus; he had given me so much expressive whiplash in one conversation that I did not have the brain power nor the capabilities to process it.

A barked laugh shifted the attention of the room as Mint did a valiant job of trying to hide it behind a cough. “So, we still on, or did I just go through the trouble of illegally acquiring prescription drugs for no reason?”

“We are on,” I growled, pressing one hand to Lamb’s chest as I pushed him out of the way. Surprisingly, he gave in easily, allowing me to break past his defences. “I have a bet to win, after all.” I jabbed my finger back over my shoulder, not deigning him even a glance as I headed towards the stairs. I turned back to Mint, crooking a finger. “Follow me.”

Mint picked up his bags, slinging them easily over his wide shoulders, and marched into step behind me.

“Itake it back. I think I will just waste away in a vat of Jack Daniels, thank you.” I groaned, flopping down onto my back. The soft, cushioned bed enveloped me, and I wished it would swallow me whole.

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