"Don't stop there," he said grimly.
"I'm what's …left of the two of us," she said and stopped. Lying was hard as a mortal. It didn't feel good. She touched her neck and felt the scars. Was human-Deidre going through the same pain many times a day at Darkyn's hands?
"Are you in pain?" Gabriel's voice softened. He reached out to her again and pulled her hand away, placing his against her neck. She shivered at the odd connection, the heat and warmth. The fact he touched her without hesitation. Did she like that or not? She debated.
She never offered to heal him, either, when she had been Death and he was her servant. She didn't understand what pain was at that point. Her greatest warrior, Gabriel had experienced his fair share of battle wounds. The idea he'd gone through something like this, and she didn't know to help him made her sad.
She never wanted him to suffer.
"No pain," she murmured, pulling her attention back to him.
"So you just made a random deal with Darkyn." His thumb brushed her jaw line. Back and forth, back and forth, in a way that left her skin tingling and her feeling as if she was falling under some sort of spell.
"Sort of," she replied. "You didn't used to …touch me without asking."
"You didn't seem to mind me holding you for hours last night on the beach."
"I don't mind. I …" She shook her head. "I can't think when you do."
"Tell me what happened," he said and dropped his hand. "I'll wait to touch you until after." He was amused.
Deidre's brow furrowed. He didn't say he'd ask to touch her. Just said that he would.
"I made him a deal to take the tumor out. He made the two of us one," she said slowly. It wasn't coming out the way she practiced it, maybe because Gabriel was sitting close enough that she wanted to lean against him instead of the bed and place his large hands on the parts of her body hidden by clothes.
"You are past-Death and … Deidre?" Gabriel asked.
"I'm both Deidres," she replied with some offense. "We are the same person."
"In some ways, maybe," he allowed. "The tumor is gone?"
"Yes."
Her first thought was that he wasn't buying it. His gaze remained steady.
"Turn around."
She frowned. "Why?"
"I want to make sure you're my mate and not a shape-shifter demon."
"Do I look like a demon?" she retorted.
"You can show me your marking, or I can hold you down and look myself," he warned.
"You wouldn't …"