Page 37 of Scavenger's Oath

Shifting a little on the cot, I adjust the hoodie, so it pulls tighter across my chest, drawing the fabric closer to the curves of my body. Pretending it's casual.

He sees. But not in the way I need him to. He’s not taking the bait. Brow furrowing like he’s trying to work out a riddle.

“Zane,” I say softly as I shift my posture, pulling the blanket back to reveal more of my bare legs beneath the oversized hoodie. “I want to thank you. You've been nice to me.”

His body stiffens as his eyes flash down to my legs for a brief moment before averting his gaze.

“I want you to feel safe,” he says, tense.

Is he seriously still not getting it?

“And you have,” I say, spreading my legs just a little to catch his attention again. “Let me… thank you.”

His eyes flicker back to my legs, body staying frozen. But I see the flare in his nostrils like he's fighting with himself.

“Ivy,” he murmurs, my name falling from his lips like a prayer he didn't mean to speak. “What are you...”

“I don't have anything else to give you. Please. Let me repay you,” I beg sweetly, using the tone that men like.

He jolts as if I knocked the wind out of him. Silence stretches between us.

“Ivy. Stop,” he says rougher, making me flinch. “Shit. I didn't mean—I'm sorry,” he stumbles over his words, hanging hishead and running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to rewind the last few seconds.

I've never got a reaction like this.I don't understand.

“I don't need you to repay me for anything,” he says, a hint of frustration in his voice. “I'm just doing what’s right… trying to treat you right.”

Oh… he must bethattype.The gentleman who tries to deny his own urges in a vain attempt to be noble.

He just needs more of a push.

Heat climbs up my neck as I stand, letting the blanket fall away from my bare legs. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he watches me from the corner of his eye.

Gathering my courage, I step towards the bars and kneel in front of him.

“Ivy,” he breathes like he's trying to hold his breath. His muscles are taut as if he’s holding back what he really wants to do.

Trembling slightly, I reach between the bars and rest my hand on his arm. It's hard and warm, veins climbing over the muscles, making my hand look small in comparison.

Zane looks away again, throat bobbing as he swallows hard.

I tug at his arm a little and he lets me guide it between the bars to rest on my thigh.

“You don't have to be nice for nothing,” I whisper.

The warmth of his palm feels more comforting than I was expecting. His fingers flutter against my skin as if he wants to grip me harder. I can’t deny I want him to.

Pulling his hand, I guide it higher up my thigh. His hand is warm and calloused, and goosebumps tickle my flesh in their wake. Our breathing has picked up and time seems to stretch as electricity teases the air between us.

When his fingers brush the hem of the hoodie, so close to dipping underneath, his eyes go wide, and he snatches his hand back as if I burned him.

Leaning forward, closer to my face, Zane’s voice is soaked in disgust. “Is this what you think you have to do to stay safe?”

His eyes burn into mine, searching for something. A drop of pain finds its way into his expression when he doesn’t find whatever he was looking for. “You’ve been taught the wrong lessons. You don't have to earn your place, Ivy. Not with me. I'm not here to take anything from you.”

My eyes search his face while my brain tries to make sense of what he’s saying.

I don’t understand what game this is. Shaking his head gently, his face softens into pity.