She thought she'd been prepared. She'd worked the entire day to become so, but the moment his door opened and the familiar leather-copper scent (heavier on the copper today) rolled over her, she took a breath and lost her thoughts momentarily.
Then she saw his face. Black eyes, bright fangs, and his skin was so very, very flushed. If she'd known better, she'd have thought he was running a fever. But she did know better.
Evey didn't do much thinking after that. The coal dark eyes flamed to life. She set both palms on his chest and pushed hard, fast, pushed until they were both inside his penthouse and she could plant her heel against the front door and kick.
The latch snapped closed and she stood in front of him, glaring upward. He was warm. He was warm. All she'd ever done for him, everything she'd tried... She'd spent hours carefully collecting her own blood in bags for a vampire who never came for it. She'd put herself - with Peter's help - between his nature and the people of die Festung. Not that it'd ever come to that, but hadn't it been close a time or two?
And here he was, practically screaming about what he'd done. It was stamped all over him. Did he even know that?
Her hands flew up toward his face. She slapped him twice, sharply, in quick succession. Both her palms stung, but she did it again anyway.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed. "Put those things away in front of me! How dare you. How dare you."
Evey was more than angry. She was furious. Her blood was fire, and her body was wound so tightly she felt like she was vibrating. She was shaking, but not at all out of fear.