Some time later, Atticus found me baking a breakfast cake. "God, I never realized how terrible this place must have smelled before you arrived," he said, moving to sit on the barstool.

I smiled brightly at him. Being able to eat when we wanted instead of having typical dietary needs was one of my favorite things about being on this plane. Food was the luxury of the living.

"Well, after discovering Betty Crocker's Big Red Cookbook tucked in the cabinet above the fridge, I figured why not?" I said shrugging, clad in black, cloth oven mitts. Atticus was looking me over again, and I found it unnerving. My smile shrank as I realized the damage I had done to my attire. Flour dusted my t-shirt and leggings, making me look sugar-coated. Just what I needed when I was dealing with both a lack of clothes and staving off temptation.

My head snapped up as a thought occurred. "Are there clothes here for me?"

Atticus looked at me dumbly, seeming to slowly absorb my question. "No. Why would there be?"

"You have clothes," I said. Are they yours?

My companion shook his head. "Yeah, this place was built for me, remember?"

"But I was sent here too," I started, talking through my train of thought. "Maybe they snuck some pieces for me in with yours."

"Or," Atticus drew the word out. "You aren't meant to be here."

We shared a long look. His tone had been bittersweet. I was growing on him and I completely understood why that was dangerous.

"Maybe you'll be gone tomorrow," he said reverently, but his eyes were beginning to betray him.

My own gaze narrowed. "You're trying again to get me to sleep with you," I guessed.

A smile spread over Atticus' lips. "I mean, I'm not wrong. You literally can't tell me I'm wrong." Standing, he moved around the counter to approach me. "What if this is our last night together?" he pouted.

I rolled my eyes and moved around him to get a trivet out for the soon-to-be-done cake. "Excuse me," I said, enunciating each syllable.

"Oh, am I in the way?" A mocking laugh reached my ears as he danced with me instead of just getting out of the way.

Huffing, I lightly elbowed him in the stomach, prodding him back so I could open the oven. The timer went off just as I brought the Pyrex pan out to check the cake. After a successful toothpick test, I turned everything off and realized I was alone. I discarded the oven mitts before patting myself down to attempt to remove the flour. Once satisfied with the effort, I dampened my hands in the sink and began wiping down my clothes.

"No secret wardrobe for you upstairs, but I did find these." Atticus had returned with a handful of fabric.

I moved forward immediately but he held a hand up to halt me. "The first one was free," he said, pointing out my already sullied t-shirt.

"I thought we were beyond this," I huffed in return.

A smirk erupted across his face. "Oh Ash, you have greatly underestimated my boredom. I've been alone here for a very long time and if I don't get to fuck you, I'm at least going to fuck with you."

"What happened to being super confident in my attraction to you?" I questioned, putting my hand to my hip.

Leaning back against the counter, my tormenter shrugged. "Yeah, that's the long-term plan. This is the 'now' plan."

I shook my head, pulling patience from deep within myself. "Okay, so what did you have in mind?"

A devilish grin overtook the mischievous smirk. "I actually have something I think you'll agree is just plain logical," he said and I didn't believe a sleazy word of it. "It's almost feeding time and at this rate, I won't even have enough shirts for myself with the speed you are going through them- dirty girl- so to save the mess, you should probably just go topless," he spoke matter of factly.

I scoffed, exaggeratedly. "Wow."

"Now, just think about it."

A blush emerged as I couldn't help but picture his hands on my bare torso as he fed from me. I cringed realizing that he had successfully planted that image there.

Atticus laughed triumphantly. "See? Whether you admit it or not, deep down you love that idea," he said, so proud of himself it was practically dripping from him. "You aren't even good at hiding it."

I met his gaze and straightened myself. "It's not going to happen," I said with finality.

"Then counteroffer me," he suggested. It was so quick I had to assume he had known from the beginning this would end up being a back-and-forth. He wanted me to test his boundaries.

If that was so, I needed to lowball. "How about... I let you be topless?" I said, dreading how questioning my voice was.

"That sounds like fun for you," Atticus accused.

"Maybe you can seduce me faster?" I offered, hating that I was giving him an inclination that he could succeed.

A long moment passed and I began to wonder if I had offered up something I didn't realize.

"Maybe I should be pantsless instead..." he mused.

"Absolutely not," I spoke immediately.

He tsked me. "Counter," he emphasized.

I sighed. "Atticus, you are trying to make me sacrifice feeling clean on the inside for feeling clean on the outside. You have to know which I value more." I was getting tired of this game but also increasingly worried he would trick me with my own words. This charade was doing nothing to build my trust in him.

His blue eyes held mine as he deposited the clothing on the counter before approaching me languidly. I stood still allowing him to intrude my personal space. At this point, it was hardly a surprise. Leaning in, he spoke lowly in my ear, "I think I'd like you dirty inside and out."

A shiver ran the length of my spine. "Tha- that's the opposite of what we should be trying to accomplish," I stammered out.

The dark figure looming over me leaned back to capture my gray gaze. "You're so cute when you talk about shining up my soul. And even after you got all up in there. Your greedy little touch all over the dark, broken works in me. You want back in there, don't you? You liked getting your hands dirty. I bet you-"

"Stop!" I cried. I backed up into the counter behind me, steadying myself against his onslaught. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding and I didn't know how or why.

Thankfully, he stayed stationary. "Seems like I hit a nerve," he mused.

I scrambled to pull myself together. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that."

Atticus' expression blanked.

"Me getting my hands dirty tending to your soul... is like that of a gardener. Soil is full of nourishment and is the birthplace of beauty."

We eyed each other in silence for a long moment.

"Mood-killer..." the demon before me grumbled. He turned, heading for the drink tray.

Feet already carrying me forward, I followed, not wanting to lose this tangent. "You seem to be under the impression that my exposure to you is going to taint me." I waited a beat to see if he would join the conversation. "When I'm fairly certain things are going to go the other direction."

"And then what?" Atticus finally faced me. "I'm not getting out of here. You were sent here to fuck with my head so that when you get pulled to where ever the fuck you get to go next, I get a new level of torture."

As if punctuating the unsaid, the throw blanket shifted as one of the corners lost its purchase on the window frame. The soft blue material swung to one side revealing our feline friend. Two yellow eyes looked knowingly inward as the creature stretched forward before turning to saunter off into the treeline.

Atticus took a long drink from his glass. "Someday, that cat will be my savior."

I watched him look out the window to where the furball had been waiting patiently to remind us of its presence. "Atticus? Why did you get sent here?" I steeled myself against the potential volatility.

His piercing blue eyes captured the dullness of my own before a smirk crept over his features. "What do you think?"

I eyed him, thankful he hadn't attacked me but I was still on guard. "It's an interesting concept. You are supposed to be 'bad' right? So what gets a bad boy in trouble?" I talked through my train of thought. "Insubordination?" I guessed.

Gaze dropped, Atticus leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "Sure, let's go with that."

"What? Wait. Is that really it or are you just trying to appease my curiosity?" I asked, startled by his immediate affirmative response.

"Yup." He let the 'p' pop from his lips.

I sighed. I wasn't going to be getting any real answers out of him tonight. Unintentionally staring, I dug deep, trying to figure out how to get him to be more cooperative. The more I knew, the better I could help him.

A grumble sounded. "Stop staring."

My cheeks flushed as I dropped my eyes before glancing back up to see his waiting gaze. "I suppose I can't blame you; it's a hell of a view," he said, rising fluidly to join me on the small couch. "Are we going to continue to ruin my clothes or have you reconsidered just how genius going topless is?"

"Maybe if you weren't such a messy eater, it wouldn't be a problem," I said, lifting my wrist.

Blues eyes regarded my arm before swatting it aside. "Screw the clothes." He spoke in a flustered tone, rushing at me.

"Wait!" I called, bracing my hands against his chest as he enveloped my whole upper body. "This needs to be about nourishment. I need you to keep your head."

Heavy breaths cascaded the flesh of my neck as he held his position. "Ash," he spoke my name wrapped in a sigh. "Are you asking me to be gentle with you?" A swipe from his hand pulled the rest of my hair back out of his way, leaving a wake of sensation against my skin.

A shiver passed through my body as I gulped down my heart. "I'm reminding you of my first rule."

"You can remind me until you run out of breath," Atticus growled. His grip became forceful as he wrenched my head to the side, exposing my neck. "Or you can stop me." Sharp teeth broke my skin with more force than necessary.

I choked on a scream. The pain he was causing swirled with startling sensations as his free hand trailed my arm to entwine our fingers. Body overshadowing mine, I felt his weight begin to settle into me. Tears pricked my eyes as I recognized the need in him. His hand wasn't holding mine to restrain me, it was doing so for the connection.

As his assault on my neck slowed, I moved my unoccupied hand to his hair where I gently caressed the dark locks back. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing against me. A tender kiss was placed over my wound before he rested his face against my collarbone.

"Why didn't you stop me?" he asked into my flesh.

I squeezed his hand gently. "Because I didn't need to."

Slowly, Atticus lifted his body from mine, not releasing our interlocked fingers. "Then why make the rule at all?" he questioned.

My gray eyes stared at him knowingly. "So you have a chance to show me what type of person you are."

He screwed his face up at my words. "And who am I to you now?" he asked bitterly.

Doing my best to convey forgiveness, I looked to our joined hands, then back to him. "You're lonely," I said softly.

Ripping his hand from mine, he stood to tower over me. "No shit, Sherlock," he spat, striding over to his discarded drink. "That's the point, remember."

I mulled that over. I refused to believe I had been sent here to compound his torment with my inevitable absence. But, if it were true, that meant I needed to work all the more faster.