There was an undertone to Evey's casual acceptance that Aidan didn't trust. Perhaps he was doubting her because he was feeling guilty about what he was saying, or perhaps it was because she actually didn't believe what he was saying. Which she shouldn't.
The need, the desire, the outright addiction, coursed through his veins - quite literally. He watched her, every part of him tense now, get up from the couch. It appeared at first that she was going to pace again. But not for one moment did Aidan believe that she had accepted his answer so easily.
It seemed that Evey was about to speak when she turned toward him, and then she was walking across the apartment toward the bedrooms. Aidan was up a moment later, jogging following her, and then slowing his gait after a couple of steps to a more curious speed. When she turned toward the second bathroom, Aidan put his hands up on the casing, fingers subtly on the door, but firmly holding it closed.
"What are you doing?" He tried to make his voice let go of the accusation he was throwing at her.
Usually after a good solid run with live blood, he found it difficult to let go of that and craved it heavily. Never before had he actually found himself angry at the idea that he couldn't have it, or desperately trying to keep the stash hidden. If he'd been more of his right mind, he would have been utterly shocked at himself and his behavior.