Page 18 of Lamb

Green eyes were a fresh surprise.

A sharp prick dispelled some of my sleep haze as my visitor pierced a needle into my arm.

“Good morning,” Mint’s rough and tired voice greeted me. He stared down at my face, and his wide calloused hands were warm around my wrist.

“Not exactly,” I grumbled, my throat dry and my head heavy, like gravity had doubled during my sleep. My head floated like a bobbing on the surface of water and tiredness still clung to my awareness. “I feel strange …” I tried to sit up, but my body was too burdensome, and the effort was wasted.

“I wouldn’t bother.” Mint released my hand and tucked it under the blanket. “You’re probably feeling quite drowsy right now.”

I tracked the tube he had attached to my arm, slipping out beneath the sheets and up to the bag hanging from the bedpost. “What did you give me?”

“That?” Mint followed my gaze, leaning back into the plush armchair pressed up to the side of the bed. He had a book in his hand and a pen perched betwixt his fingers. “It’s just glucose.”

I frowned, and Mint seemed to read my thoughts. “I’ve just given you something to minimize alcohol withdrawal symptoms.” He looked back down at his book, his pen scribbling something. “It’s a type of tranquiliser.”

“Oh.” I sighed, sinking further into the bed. I looked around the room, figuring roughly what had gone on during the time I had been passed out.

The room, from what I could make out, was wide and empty. Once again, a page had been taken from the IKEA catalogue with matching furniture, muted warm tones, and sparse accent decorations. I wasn’t sure who he was trying to impress; I wasn’t fully blind yet, but my vision had deteriorated over the years, thanks to previous trauma. I got by well enough, but I’d admit that the interior décor was wasted on me.

Still, no matter how pretty it was, everything screamed new and unused. For a house, it felt rather unlived. I hadn’t expected anything less.

It was Lamb’s house, after all.

“At least I’m not in the basement.” I sighed, looking over to the sheer curtains covering a wide, bright window. The lighting was dim, but daylight still crept in, brightening the room with a warm glow.

“Yeah, I saw that.” Mint chuckled, the noise unfamiliar from his usual grumpy demeanour. He was gentle underneath, from what I had seen, back before my (semi-self-imposed) banishment from the club.

He had not changed much visually. Mint had cropped hair, a stiff, upright posture, and disciplined muscles. Everything about him screamed Army. Although many had been welcoming to Mint, I noticed that he did not often seek others’ company. He was a lone wolf. Or he tried to be. Company always seemed to have a way of finding him, even if he did not wish for it. That was just how Fellpeak was.

“Glad someone finds this amusing,” I grumbled, forcing my fingers and toes to wiggle. They moved beneath the sheets, and I was relieved at the sight. I did not know what dose I had been given, but at least it was not enough to paralyse me.

“You’ve been out for a few hours.” Mint ignored the comment. “The effects will wear off soon, and your symptoms will relapse.” He closed the cover of his notebook, turning his head up to meet my eyes. “You should consider detoxing. Long-term effects of excessive drinking can and will cause neurological issues later down the life. You’re young; don’t ruin your future.”

I laughed. The noise was ugly and bitter. “My future?” I scoffed before a twinge of guilt hit the brakes. “Sorry—”

“It’s okay.” Mint waved me off. “I get it.”

His interaction timer must have rang as he tucked the notebook under his arm and, without another word, walked out of the room.

I stared at the empty doorway, feeling the tiniest spec of guilt chewing through whatever tattered organ was left in my chest. Of all the bullets to have hit me, you had to have expected at least one to puncture my heart, but nope, the toxic, bitter muscle still pumped, and here I was, being a dick to a man who had only ever offered help, no judgement. Unlike his brothers, I liked Mint. He had an intense pain in his eyes that reflected my face, and for some sick and twisted reason, I appreciated it.

I was left alone with my thoughts for no less than a heartbeat before Ifelthim. Goosebumps pricked my skin, the tingling sensation of his gaze sending a chill running down my spine. My, surprisingly, intact survival instinct flared at his presence.

“Is kidnapping not illegal in this country?” I refused to look at him, knowing he’d be propped against the doorframe, arms over his chest, eyes everywhere, taking in everything. He had a gravitation pull, and even if I did not meet his eyes, it felt as if he would swallow the world whole if he wanted to.

“It is.” The sound of Lamb’s tired and gravelled voice was new, and I despised how it vibrated deep in my bones.

His footsteps were quiet but not soundless as he walked across the room. I stared holes into the sheer white curtains, not letting even his silhouette enter my line of sight. They drifted in a small breeze, rippling like the crest of a wave breaking across the shore.

My weight shifted on the bed, the world tilting slightly with it. My stomach churned, but its disapproval was muted compared to the previous night’s protests.

I jerked at the warmth against my forehead, his wide palm momentarily blocking my vision as I spun towards him. “Your fever’s broken.” Relief laced his voice, and I scrutinized it.

“You do not have to touch me,” I hissed. “Thermometers exist.”

“I know,” Lamb murmured, his hand still lingering. “But it’s a good excuse as any to touch you.”

“You’re not supposed to admit that.” I shook off his touch. He did not push, retracting his hand back into his lap. He remained seated by my side, undeterred by my unwelcoming actions. Instead, a small smile pulled on his lips, eyes flickering as they jumped about my face. I was sure I looked interesting to him—white face, dark circles, hollowed cheek. I could not fathom what horror movie I had turned into. It had been a long time since I had last looked at my reflection. I doubted I could even recognise it even if a mirror was in front of me

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