"Nearly healed," he said, opening the tin and smearing the salve into his hands, the scent of rosemary sharp in the air. "And yours?"
"Mm, same. Ohhhh," I groaned as he lifted my foot from his lap and gently rolled his thumbs up my arches. "Ohhh, Hunter."
He huffed, and I grinned, aware of the nature of the sounds I was making in response to his touch.
"You'll have to instruct me on how to repay this favor," I said, my voice a little tight as I squirmed. The ache in my foot and the relief of his touch was blatantly erotic.
"Your company is already more gratifying than I could hope for," Hunter said.
I giggled and opened my eyes. He'd twisted to face me at an angle, and he was watching my face rather than his own hands at work.
"The strangest part is that I think you're serious," I said softly.
"Why should it be strange?"
"Why should you find my company such a treat? I know...I know not all human women might accept an orc, but any of the girls at the theater would consider themselves lucky to be in your company."
Hunter's brow knotted. "Tolerant, perhaps."
It was my turn to be puzzled. "Hunter, I mean it."
"Would you prefer it was another girl in your place?"
I balked at the question, trying to sit up, but Hunter kept my foot clasped gently but firmly in his grip and I could only push up on my elbows.
"Of course not! In fact, I would be very jealous!"
Hunter's touch paused, and he blinked, cheeks darkening and lips twitching. We stared at one another for a long stretch of quiet until I grew restless, wanting to shake his thoughts from his head.
Finally he spoke, slowly and quietly. "Would you have preferred I had taken you shopping today? To a jeweler's? To have dined at a hotel rather than on a blanket in a garden?"
"Absolutely not," I said easily.
"Would any of the other girls have preferred that version of the day?" he asked.
Probably all of them. Maybe not Alexa, but she was already in love twice over.
"I suppose you and I are more enthusiastic about a garden than most," I admitted. "Does the idea of spending money bother you?"
"Of course not," he said, and this time, it was his turn to sound defensive. "Today was more than worth the price."
He sat my right foot down and added more salve to his palms, warming it before picking up the left.
"Price," I repeated.
"Mm," he said, blinking at me.
Earlier, with Myra, he'd handed her… Could it have been money? Wrapped in an envelope, perhaps? And the other night too? Cold settled in my bones, disappointment and heartache chilling me in that warm room, on that decadent bed.
"Hunter, stop," I said, and he stilled immediately, only squeezing briefly around my ankle before letting me slip free. I sat up completely, drawing my legs under me and inching a little closer. "Hunter, did you... What do you mean by 'price'?"
Hunter blinked back at me for a moment, head tipping. Did he feel the same chill creeping in from the windows that I did? The sinking weight in his chest?
"The thirty pounds for this week," he said. "I gave it to Miss Jones earlier today."
"Thirty pounds?" I squawked.
"Is that not enough?" Hunter asked.
I gasped and his eyes widened. My face was numb, my head pounding, and I wanted to scramble out of the bed, out of the house.
It's not as though you're not paid to have sex on stage, I reminded myself. But certainly not thirty pounds a week!
"Hazel, please," Hunter said, reaching for me.
I wanted to slap him, but it wasn't his fault. And the truth was, sex had always been a kind of transaction for me. Except what I'd gained was a fleeting kind of approval, the gratitude of my partner. And money too, through the theater, but…not like this.
"Is this the first time you've paid Myra?" I asked, words almost at a whisper with how strangled my throat was.
"I paid her after the night at your home, I hadn't expected—"
"Oh!" This time I couldn't resist, nearly falling out of the bed in my haste to escape. My feet were greased with the salve from Hunter's hands and stiff from walking all day, and I nearly slipped as I marched off the carpet and onto the floorboards.
I braced my hands on the back of a velvet armchair that faced the fireplace, aware of Hunter's approach, fighting down the urge to storm at him or out of the house and back to the theater to tear into Myra.
"You didn't know?" Hunter asked, and my slip brushed against my back where he stroked a tentative line down my spine.
The question brought a rush of relief. He'd seemed surprised for me to ask anything about a price, as if it wasn't meant to be a secret kept from me. But I'd never heard even one of the girls mention making money from their nights with patrons. The hope was always that you'd catch one who'd build you a life outside the theater, not that you might make a living from bedding them.
"Was it just a price for me?" I asked.