Page 87 of Lamb

Pipe frowned, running his eyes up and down. “I’m not sure that’s—”

“Please,” I begged, my body shaking violently. I no longer had control. Something had taken over, and no matter how much I screamed and begged not to do it, I was unable to resist. I needed it. Needed it more than I needed to breathe. Needed it more than I could cope.

After a long stare, a soft breath rushed from Pipe’s lips, his steel grey eyes softening. “All right,” he sighed, reaching up to the shelf and pulling down a bottle. His hands were slow, or time had slowed to a snail’s crawl. Either way, it felt like an eternity before a glass slid in front of me.

Like an animal dying in the desert, I lunged for the glass, my hands shaking so violently that I almost threw it back over the other side of the bar.

Stop!

I pulled the glass to my lips, the wet whiskey rushing over my skin like burning electricity. Finally.

STOP!

Glass shattered across the bar. Pieces scattered over the surface, rushing over the edge and crashing over the floorboards. A rough, calloused palm clamped over my lips, the back of my head pressed into something hard and firm.

“Fuck,” Jax hissed, shaking his glass-splintered palm above the counter. Small shards dropped onto the counter while others glistened in his skin.

I stared at the blood trickling over his palm and onto the counter, mixing with the spilt whiskey. I could feel it on my hands and dripping down my skin and arms.

“No,” I breathed through tight fingers.

Jax dropped his hand from my face, and my own hands, dripping with dregs of whiskey and glass, jerked towards my lips.

Hands locked around my wrists, stopping them in place, a few inches from my lips. A tug from tasting that sweet warmth once again.

“Towel. Now,” Jax hissed, and without missing a beat, Pipe tossed one across the bar. Jax held me like an iron bar, unyielding to my struggles as he wiped the whiskey and blood running down my skin.

“No,” I whimpered, pulling at my arms as Jax wiped away the traces of my drink. With his muscles and my meagre strength, he might as well have been a mountain. “Please, no …”My tears burned as they ran down my cheeks and the fight leaked from my bones.

Pipe hurried to clean up the counter, my drink disappearing as I watched, unable to do anything about it.

“What’s wrong with her?” Pipe’s mild concern had evolved into full apprehension as he looked towards Jax, who was making sure to get every single drop of drink from my skin.

“Fresh out of detox.”

“Fuck, brother.” Pipe paled, his eyes pleading over my shoulder. He held his palms up either side of him. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Jax grumbled. “You wouldn’t have known.”

I could not bring myself to turn or look. I did not want to see their faces. See the disappointment. I had crumbled at the first hurdle. I had been left alone for less than a moment and was desperate to throw myself over the bar and drink every bottle until the world disappeared.

My throat tightened, and I could not get my chest to relax. My breaths came short as the despair washed over me. I had begged and pleaded with myself not to do it, but when it had come down to it, I was unable to stop myself. I had no power. I was pathetic. I was weak.

“Fuck, Ash,” Jax snapped, dropping his hands from my arms. “Sweetheart,breathe.”

“I—” I could not. “I cannot—”

Arms wrapped around my back and my legs, and the next thing I knew, I was in the air. I clutched my chest, desperate to pull in just a breath of air as the world rushed around me. I was aware I was moving, but I could not focus on anything except the darkness dancing across my vision.

“Ash,” Lamb’s voice echoed through my mind. I heard abang, and the next thing I knew, Lamb was putting me down, sitting me up. One arm held tight around my forearm, stopping me from kneeling over, and the other pressed against the back of my neck, pushing me forward until I had my head tucked between my knees. “Breathe for me, Ash. Calm down andbreathe.”

I was unsure how long I sat there, but Lamb held me still, his familiar hand squeezing the back of my neck in soft, gentle pulses, counting the beats as I fought to pull in air. Slowly, my mind cleared, and my racing heartbeat calmed.

Certain I was not going to pass out anymore, I pulled back against his grip, and Lamb allowed me to sit upright. He sat on his haunches in front of me, his hand on my thigh, the other cupping the side of my face, rubbing his thumb up and down the curve of my cheekbone.

“I am sorry,“ I whispered, my voice hoarse and weak. “I am—”

“Ash,” Lamb cut me off. “Look at me.”

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