He supposed he should have been expecting the slap, but he’d been so stuck on the things she was screaming in his face that he missed the hand coming towards his jaw until she’d already struck. The blow startled him, and he flinched back, raising a hand to cover his abused cheek. Ginger always did have a damn good arm, and he knew he had deserved that slap.
But more than the sting, more than the solid impact of her hand against his cheek, it was what she’d said that hurt. Not because she didn’t want to hear it, not because she wouldn’t accept what he’d said; he could never fault her for that. But the implication that he didn’t care anymore about her...
When he looked back around at her, he was nearly as furious as she was, eyes glaring wide and his voice low and lethal. “If you really think for one second that I would just get over you getting fucking murdered by a fucking vampire in our fucking front room, then you clearly don’t fucking know me at all.”