Page 43 of Lamb

“Sure. Get that one,” I huffed. I had been fed up after the first twenty pieces of décor that Lamb had shown me, and after the slowest-paced wander through the kitchen crockery and appliance section, I was now frustrated.

“You don’t like it?” Lamb repeated his infamous, finishing words as he put the pot back onto the shelf, managing gracefully to stand it upright alongside its clones before moving us farther down the aisle.

“Read my lips,” I growled, grabbing him by the lapel of his coat and turning him to face me. He turned easily with my pull, face lowering the small gap to my own, eyes wandering down to my lips. “I do not care. I want to go home.”

Lamb’s ears weren’t working, and his mouth must have malfunctioned as he stared back at me in silence. His eyes jumped back and forth between my own, a burning heat penetrating through the dark sunglasses. They slid down to my hands wrapped tightly into the material of his coat and then travelledoh so slowlyback up to my lips, his tongue darting out over his own.

The images jerked through my head, the feel of his hands around my neck, the warmth of his hips pressed into mine, and the soft growl that vibrated down my jaw and landed deep into the pit of my stomach.

I jerked backward, letting him go. I threatened to fall but quickly caught myself, the ache in my foot lost to the pounding heat flooding my core.

Fuck.

Something had loosened in my chest with that kiss earlier, but I could not explain what it was or what it meant. Self-control had been siphoned by his touch, and now I was like a fish floundering out of water in front of him. I was distracted, panicked, and, most of all, really, reallywet.

“How about this one?” Lamb had already moved on, picking up a small cat ornament off the shelf above my head. It was a cursed thing; wiry fur, black abyssal eyes, and a hunch rivalling Ben Nevis.

“Yes, adorable. We will get it,” I pleaded, near tears beading in my eyes as that encroaching tremor began to ripple through my muscles. My throat had long since dried, and the headache I had battled earlier lingered at the back of my eyes, ready to jump back into action.

Sensing my irritability, Lamb skimmed his eyes from my head to my toes in that piercing, clinical way that made me feel naked in front of him; and not in the sexy, hot way. I felt exposed, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a fetal positionin the corner and never move. It was more chilling than the snowy winters spent in parking garages or rainy days on public park benches.

“Look, just give it to me and let us go pay,” I said, reaching for the cat ornament. Lamb did not fight me when I took it out of his hand. His gaze was wandering over my face, a frown placed on his.

“Can I help?”

I spun on my heels as a voice travelled over my shoulder. It came from behind me, and I panicked at the proximity, one foot stumbling over the other, nearly throwing the cat ornament. I could see it about to smash into a million pieces as my body landed flat on top.

Lamb was next to me in a flash, my shoulder crashing into his firm chest, a strong arm catching my back and stopping me, and the cat, from hitting the floor.

“Sorry!” the woman gasped, alarmed at my sudden movement. “I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“It’s okay,” Lamb reacted, flashing that deceptive, sweet-as-honey smile. “My wife is just a little skittish.”

“Wife?” I choked. “I am not your wi—”

Lamb’s hand tightened around my waist, pinning me close to his side. “Not yet.” He looked down at me, his eyes crinkling with adoration. “We’ll be married this spring.” I had to give him credit; he was a good actor. Probably studied it in How to Fake Being a Human 101.

“Oh, how lovely!” The woman smiled, clapping, a bright smile on her rouged cheeks. For a moment, I was sure I saw her gaze flicker between me and Lamb and something crossed her eyes. It disappeared behind her professional veil, and she moved into her sales pitch. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re shopping for today? I’ve seen you wandering around for a while.”

“We’re looking to redecorate our home. Everything’s a little …blank.”I did not miss the short flicker back to my face with that comment.

I huffed at his pathetic storytelling as Lamb described our house and “wedding” plans. The woman ate it all up, while all I wanted was to stomp on his perfectly polished shoes. I would revel in the look of pain on his face and watch that mask fall and crumble to the floor. I would want to take a photo, fold it up, and keep it tucked in my back pocket for when the dark nights crept in.

I had been in my head a little too long as, suddenly, I was being tugged along. Lamb had wrapped his arm around my waist, and we walked in step with the saleswoman guiding the way deeper into the shop. More importantly, farther from the exit.

“What is happening?” I whispered, glancing over his shoulder as my prized exit disappeared. “Where are we going?”

Lamb did not look my way, but I saw the small smirk creeping up the corner of his lips. He was up to something. I knew it.

“Here it is.” The woman smiled, swiping her hand toward the premade display bed. A deep rich red nearly burnt into my eyes at the sheer loudness of the colour. It was intense and almost sensual with the quilted edges and the pinched seams giving it a quilted look, the homely sense clashing with the overtly sexual red.

It was horrib—

“Perfect. We’ll take it,” Lamb interrupted my thoughts.

“We willwhat?” I strangled.

“Amazing. I’ll get one all packed up for you.” The woman smiled. “It’s such a beautiful colour for your soon-to-be newlywed bedroom.”

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