"I'm better with it." He pleaded. "Ask Bishop. He's..."
He glanced around for his Father, and found no trace. He was alone again. All he had now was the blood. He needed it. Needed it like nothing else. His thoughts whirled around his desperation, spinning. Something broke through, Evey broke through it all. She breathed, expanding ever so slightly, his arms moving with it. She, a living creature, was speaking to him, over his babble about Bishop. He didn't know if she'd even heard.
Aidan clung to Evey like a child clinging to his mother's skirts. Fear, need, sorrow, agony, and shame ripping through him all at the same time. He heard her words and let them sink in. Instinct raged against logic.
He didn't want to be this.
She knew it as well as he did, he'd fought for so long to be anything but this. That fight had him begging now instead of ripping her apart. He had no idea if the knowledge would keep her whole and in tact if he didn't keep fighting against the more primal side of himself.
Aidan wrapped his arms tighter around her, his fingers digging into cloth and skin, though he did his best to keep from doing anything more than bruising. That itself was a struggle. A struggle on top of a struggle.
His stomach lurched at the denial of what it wanted. His fangs itched to sink into something and release the blood he knew was under the skin. Every cell of his body wanted the blood that his nose promised was there, just on the other side of the sink wall, sliding down the drain with the cold water that she'd turned on. It muted the scent, but not enough.
Aidan wanted to be a better man. For himself. For the world. For Evey. Both versions of her. He knew that the other was important, that he loved her, but she wasn't the one here now, asking him to do better, be better. Her voice rang in his ears, and he tightened his grip on her a little more. Grounding himself in her. He pressed his face against her dress, breathing deeply. The scent of her wasn't enough to overpower the smell of blood, but it was something.
He held onto it. Onto her. The sound of her voice replaced that of the plastic being punctured and ripped, releasing the blood he so needed. The smell of her fought with the scent of the blood in the sink, dulled more, thankfully, by the cold water - if she'd used hot... the steam would have built in the air, the blood would have permeated everything... she had to have known. The beating of her heart spoke to him, he swallowed hard. Aidan forced the black of his eyes to peel away, fighting every ounce of himself.
"Do it faster." He said, his voice barely a whisper. It elevated to a yell. "Turn on the disposal and do. IT. FASTER."
Aidan didn't know how long he would be able to hold out. And as close as she was, she was the prime target for any violence. If she didn't get it over with, he knew that there was little chance that he'd be able to stop himself. As it stood, he had to fight to stay in the position he was in, had to risk bruising her.