He pauses before answering that, clearly chewing the inside of his cheek while trying to think of a response that isn’t just a yes. “Don’t play coy, I know you’re a wander-off-er-er.”
“Er-er,” I scoff back at him, and toss my ponytail over my shoulder.
Getting into the waterways is easier than I initially expect. There’s a metal frame that works well enough as a platform to enter it. Inside, the brickwork vaults into a ten-foot tunnel, with ledges on either side barely a couple of feet wide. It all has a sickly greenish lighting, from the occasional grime-covered wall sconce.
Water flows freely down the center, and every so often a mostly transparent blob like a jellyfish is carried on the current. The ooze doesn’t dissolve in water, it behaves almost hydrophobically.
I follow behind Ellis on one of the ledges, the tunnel quickly branching into a system of similar hallways.
We pause at an intersection, and Ellis crouches on his heels to watch the water closer. We wait for a few more blobs of ooze to come from one direction more than the other. After a while, he stands, and we head further into the waterways.
We pass a number of grated openings in the walls, over more drains that must lead back to the streets overhead. A couple have coffee cups and food wrappers caught in the grates as gray slush drips through. A few rodents crawl along the brickwork. Occasionally, we pass by service doors. Some are clearly as old as the architecture of the waterways, the brickwork outlining them.
I’m glad he’s leading the way because I’m having a hard time following the iridescent shimmer of the ooze. My mind is in the gutter, and not just because I’m shuffling around in the city waterways.
Following behind gives me a little too much time to admire the breadth of his shoulders, the taper of his hips, the shape of his butt as he walks, the way his tail flicks.
I can’t stop eyeing him, greedily, hungrily. Every twenty feet or so I think about pushing him up against a wall and kissing him. Every twenty-fifth foot, I remind myself I can’t, because we actually have to stop hooking up. For real this time.
What ends up being more convincing is that there’s no section of the wall I feel confident in even possibly touching.
Ellis takes a step from one ledge lining the wall to the other, and I stop just before a large chunk on my side that is missing. He holds a hand out across the way, fingers curling through mine instantly.
His grip is firm and steady as I take a careful step around it. He comes back to my side again, but I notice he doesn’t let go. He keeps holding my hand as he leads me down the passage, and when he catches my eyes, he gives it a little reassuring squeeze. My pulse stutters.
I’m not really prepared for the rush of appreciation at how easy it is to be around Ellis. It feels strange not to have to fight to get some sign of affection from him. It’s not the first time I’ve been struck by how earnestly and simply his thoughts and feelings are available.
“I’m surprised your clingy ex let you out of his sight tonight.”
I wince. There it is. Very available.
“He’s, uh, busy,” I say, and it could be the truth, for all I know. If I tell Ellis I needed to use my friend as a buffer between me and my ex to get some time alone tonight, he’s going to say that’s a reason I need distance.
He must have a dozen reasons to hate Clayton, so of course he would find flaws in anything I told him. Hearing myself when I was telling Ellis everything yesterday at once made it sound somuch worse. Then the things he said about Clayton, I just don’t know if I can trust them.
“So, what’s got him so busy?”
“They’re appointing him Protector of the City in some ceremony tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll expect me to be there.”
His sigh echoes off the damp brickwork. “Isn’t the point of vigilante-ism that it’s unrelated to the government? That you’re not putting an unchecked weapon in the hand of a government that could potentially become fascist?”
“Something about the way you talk makes me think that you leave a lot of comments online,” I return dryly.
A sardonic smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he claps a hand against his chest and feigns being wounded. I roll my eyes and continue shuffling down the grimy path, skirting carefully around a pile of trash.
We come up to a tight corner and stop. His claws curl over the edge for extra balance.
I’m sort of already resigning myself to the fact that I might get at least one foot wet, when Ellis curls an arm around my waist, squeezing me bodily to him. I gasp aloud as the crush of his arm against me lifts my feet off the ground, his tail wrapping around my leg.
The world moves, or maybe he just pivots the pair of us around the narrow corner.
Ellis deposits me on the wider, less questionable ledge, releasing me just as quickly as he’d scooped me up. My body mourns the loss of the firm heat of his body instantly.
And just like that, my panties are drenched, and I’m achingly horny.
His hand remains loosely on my hip. When I lean back against him, he stills against me.
The light behind him carves a sliver of his features out of his silhouette, and I watch the shadows deepen between the cords of his neck as he swallows and says, “Listen, Lacey, I’ve been thinking about our little problem—”
