Page 91 of Lamb

“Can’t be sure.” Wolf shrugged, the motion easy on his wide shoulders. “Love looks a whole lot different to everyone. And even if your love is not the love that I or our brothers know, it might be the closest you ever get to the real thing.”

If anyone was to understand my nature the most, it would be him. The man who’d been by my side since day one; who’d seen through my shit and shenanigans. Who’d taught me the meaning of loyalty and brotherhood, even if I didn’t work the same way others did.

“Either way”—Wolf drew back—“it’s special, and you need to protect it.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Wolf didn’t let me.

“Though I’d rather you pick anybody else on the planet.”

My words dissolved behind a barked laugh erupting from my chest. The man had not changed even the slightest as the years went on. Much like the true mountains he resembled, he weathered and aged, but he still stood tall and proud, remaining who he was to the core.

Wolf didn’t laugh with me, but his mouth resembled something close to a smile. “If you didn’t think it was love,” Wolf questioned, his expression puzzled and curious, “then what did you think it was?”

“Indigestion.”

Wolf barked out a laugh, hard and hearty. It was a noise I had not heard in a long time.

“If you think that, you’re the fool. Not her.”

I glowered at my president. “That’s the third time I’ve been called an idiot today.”

Wolf shrugged. “If the shoe fits.” He didn’t allow me to argue any longer, patting his hands against his knees and pushing himself up to stand. Deep brown eyes looked over at the darkness on the horizon, regarding it for a quiet moment before moving along as if it never happened. “My old lady will be needing me about now. I’m sure she’s already loaded up with things to throw at me.”

I didn’t doubt it. If Anna didn’t already have an arsenal of weapons, she’d make do with a shoe, a lamp, or a bookcase—whatever was handy. She was resourceful like that.

I recalled her expression from earlier, her calm and collected reaction to the biggest trigger in her life. It’d be calming for him and the rest of the club to see her attempt to commit murder, as usual.

“Lamb,” Wolf jarred me from my thoughts about his wife. He stood tall and towering over me, his face darkened with his shadow, light smothered behind him. “It doesn’t matter what you call it. If you know it’s something you don’t want to lose, you know what to do.”

“Which is?”

Even through the muted light, I could see Wolf’s expression sober.

“Don’t let go,” he warned. “No matter what.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

ASH

“Die!” she screeched, pressing the blade into my throat. “Why won’t you just die!”

I lurched from the darkness, my hand jumping to my throat. Pain throbbed against my fingertips, but my skin was dry with no blood in sight.

It was not real.

I had had plenty of nightmares, more nights with than without. Often, they involvedher, and normally, I could fall back asleep afterwards, even just for a brief period, knowing she could no longer hurt me. But sometimes, on rare occasions, they hadhim. Those nights, I would not sleep at all.

As my heart began to calm, I squinted around. Wind rapped against the window, rain showering down on the panes with natural ferocity. I heard the rumble of thunder in the distance, and not long after, a burst of light flashed across the room.

It vanished, and I was enshrouded in darkness, the short fracture of light glimpsing off the unfamiliar furniture and room. It took a few moments, but eventually, I realised where I was.

Lamb’s room was sparse; nothing more than a bed, a dresser, and a side table. Only a small stack of books on top of the dresser would give away its owner. I could not read the titles atmy distance, but I would probably be able to guess the general genre.

I reached up, once again probing the tender bruising around my throat, the small bandage that had covered my self-inflicted wound no longer there. I missed the soft sound of its crinkling touch in the void of noise in the darkness. Even the sound of the storm was dulled behind the strong, fortified walls and watertight window frames. From the lack of noise around the clubhouse, I assumed it was the early hours; the time after people had gone to bed, and well before any would arise. Those were the hours that were the most silent. The most suffocating.

I jumped at the warm hands around mine. I stared hard at the large hand tugging mine down to the bed, a curious finger tracing over the ridges of my knuckles and the veins of my hand. Even in the darkness, I could see the glimmer of white light in his eyes as he stared deeply at his movements as if mesmerised by himself.

“I slept longer than I expected,” I whispered, needing something to fill the air.

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