"Oh, god," she said, shuddering. "You mean …I slept with a demon?"
"Yeah." There was a note of familiar anger in his voice.
Her insides were shaking again. He'd calmed her with a simple touch last night and quenched her body two nights ago. She crossed her arms and walked towards him, stopping close enough for him to reach her, if he wanted to. He didn't try. Seated, his face was at her level, the dark eyes on her. Moonlight played across his chiseled features. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. The t-shirt he wore was tight around large biceps and snug across his muscular shoulders and thick chest. She'd run her hands over his perfect body, marveling at the smooth skin stretched over solid muscle.
"You're Death," she said quietly.
"I am."
His heat and scent were starting to mess with her at such a distance. Her stomach fluttered, her heartbeat fast. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze at last. She'd imagined staring down Death before, but she never guessed it would be anything like this. Which did she fear more: Death or the man behind the mask? She was compelled towards both, one by emotion and the other by fate.
"The Logan I saw in my apartment was a… a demon," she managed.
"Yes."
"They ate someone," she said, eyes watering. "I saw what was left."
"That's what demons do." He was cool, distant, impossible to read. His tone was matter-of-fact, his answers short. The comfort he'd offered her before was gone.
"It's been a rough few days," she murmured.
"For both of us."
"You were really unhappy about…" she turned and patted the tattoo on her back. "…weren't you?"
"It was unexpected."
"Unexpected," she repeated, face warm. She didn't know why it bothered her. "I thought you were going to kill me."
"I almost did. Twice."
She fought back the urge to run. "We might have a trust issue."
He was shutting her out. It was like their talk on the beach the other night never happened. She was surprised to find it bothered her. She felt very alone, exposed, standing before him. He held her gaze, and she had the sense that he was looking beyond her, to her soul, examining it as only Death could.
"We do," he agreed quietly.
With a trembling hand, Deidre reached out to him, taking one of his. The warm energy crept across her skin and into her blood. She swallowed hard and looked into his dark eyes again.
"Will you…" She wasn't sure how to ask for what she wanted, the comfort only he seemed to be able to give her.