“Oryou’rean asshole,” he pointed out.
Davy smirked as he started toward the main doors. “Naw,” he said. “I’d have let you fall. I’ve no problem with the idea of you face down on the floor.”
This time Hill didn’t need any help to stumble. He caught himself and gave Davy’s back a hard look as he tried to work out what that meant. Insulting or…suggestive.
He’d just about settled on insult when one of Davy’s restless tentacles wove back. It wrapped around his thigh, warm and solidly muscular, and goosed him. He jumped, and the tentacle whipped away, grazing between his legs as it went.
Usually it was heat. The sticky, inconsiderate flush of hunger that kindled in his balls and spread up to prickle at the back of his neck and the tips of his ears like sunburn. The mix of discomfort and desire was familiar, even though a lot of it had been…solo engagements.
This felt different.
No warmth. No tightness in his chest as his breath caught. Instead, he felt ashiftin the pit of his stomach, like the way sand slipped on the beach.
It was strange, but then so was the fact that it had been in response to a caress from a tentacle with no respect for personal space.
Hill groped through his memory for a second for the exact way Davy had put it.
We have some fun and we learn some important lessons.
Something like that. Hill guessed this could count.
He filed it away to think about later and broke into a jog to catch up with Davy before the main doors swung closed behind him. Hill supposed there was some way to get out—logically, there had to be—but he didn’t want to have to ask.
To Hill’s surprise, Davy stuck his arm back to brace the heavy glass door from closing. Hill muttered thanks as he ducked under it. He wondered briefly what would happen if hedidtry to just walk through it instead. The wave of nausea that hit him was vicious enough to feel like a warning.
He stopped to let it ebb again and looked at Davy.
“What happened to Reynolds?” he asked.
A smirk crooked the corner of Davy’s mouth as he tilted his head back, one hand raised to shade his eyes. His hair had been shorter than Hill’s. The overlay faded away into an ombre of black curls at the end of caramel brown waves.
“He put something in his mouth that disagreed with him,” he said. “I don’t think he’s going to make the party.”
Hill grimaced at the reminder.
“Lucky him,” he muttered sourly.
It made Davy laugh, a low, unforced snort of amusement. Unlike the strange experience of getting turned on while dead, Hill was very familiar with the queasy, heady feeling that pushed at the walls of his chest.
Great, Hill thought sourly to himself as he padded along in Davy’s shadow. He had a crush on the vengeful spirit. Hill thought being turned on by tentacles was probably the healthier of the two.
Chapter Six
Dec 22, 8pm
“Aren’t you going toask me what happened back at the office?” Hill asked from the other side of the bathroom door.
“No,” Davy said.
He peeled the bandage off his hand and grimaced at the dry, sour edges of the wound. When he poked at it, it felt hot and tender. Either it wasn’t a good idea to stab yourself with a knife you’d just dissected a rabbit with, or being dead fucked with your immune system.
Either way, it would be Hill’s problem soon enough. For now—Davy flexed his fingers quickly to make sure everything still worked, and hurt—it would do.
“Why not?” Hill asked.
Davy shrugged for no one to see.
“Because I already know what happened,” he said. “The Company made you an offer.”
