Page 64 of The Vixen

I swipe my pants off the floor then head for the door.

“Luna, wait…Please.”

I stop. I shouldn’t stop, but I do.

CHAPTER 17

LUNA

His voice holds neither humor nor contempt. Instead: desperation. Fake or not, it strikes me in the chest.

“Don’t leave.”

I turn to face him and search for a lie in his expression.Prayfor a lie in his expression. But there’s no lie—yet. His eyes dart as he searches for words, for therightwords.

He’ll find them. Somehow, I know he will.

My shoulders quiver as air ghosts up my neck. But like an idiot, I stay. I trudge toward Sawyer, heavy feet dragging on splintered hardwood, body and brain at odds once again.

Pulling my sweater off my head, I drop my clothes to the floor and climb into bed next to him.

It feels wrong. Personal and forced andsick, somehow. But as I pull the blanket over us and lay my head on his stretched shoulder, warmth settles in my belly.

A minute passes before I find the courage to run my fingers over his chest, tracing a familiar scar.

I follow his sternum to the shell necklace, but of course, it isn’t there. At the mines, it’d be considered contraband. If the Keepers didn’t take it, a fellow Dreg would have, breaking the shell to use the sharp edge as a meager weapon.

I frown while fingering the spot it once rested.

“You’re smart for being quiet,” I say, voice low. “You know I like this. You think if you give me what I want now, you’ll be able to influence me tomorrow before the execution.” I trail his collarbone. “And you’ve earned that confidence. You’re incredible at saying the right things and doing the right things and being the right things for almost anyone.”

Myself included.

“But…” I inhale deeply, my palm resting on his pec. “I’m not as clueless as your ordinary mark. I can sense when you’re playing me, and you’realwaysplaying me.”

Silence overtakes us for a painful moment while I try not to regret my words.Stupid, showing my hand like this. He’ll try harder to hide his lies now, up his game even more.

I’m foolish to hope that he won’t.

“But you don’t want me to…”

“No.” I close my eyes as I sidle closer to him. My nose and cheek press against vanilla-scented skin.

“You want to trust me.”

“Yes.”

More silence. I slide down his abs and nudge myself into him, glad he can’t hold me. It’d only feel like placation.

“Tell me how to make that happen.”

When he speaks, he whispers. He sounds genuine. Vulnerable.Honest.

My guard lowers none.

“Tell me something real,” I whisper back.

I consider elaborating but don’t.