At first her heart sped up, but after she'd wrapped herself around him as tightly as he had done to her, it slowed down again. As if she'd been startled, or scared. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd been afraid of what he might do after everything else he'd already done. The pace had slowed, though. The rhythm was slightly too fast for her to be fully relaxed, he suspected there was some tension there that she was able to coax her muscles into letting go of. Perhaps it was because of Preston, and this was entirely too intimate. Perhaps she still worried that he might just turn his face a little bit and take a bite out of her.
Drinking Evey's blood had never occurred to him, though. Not even after having a sample of it and knowing her flavor. She was off limits. Even blood drunk and wild he'd been able to make that distinction. He had no attacked Evey. He had watched her rip open and pour out the bags of Leeloo, and he had not attacked her. Aidan hoped that he would have been able to stop himself if she'd happened across his path that horrible night.
He listened to Evey breathe, the steady sounds of a human in good health. She was skinnier and lighter than his Evey, but fit. Her body was in top working order. Honed down to the bare essentials for survival at any costs. She was not starving, he knew this because of how she smelled, how she looked to his detail-sensitive eyes, but she did not have even the trim bodyfat percentage of a woman who lived in a leisurely place, either.
Her voice vibrated against his skin, and he heard it from within her body at the same time as he heard it from without.
"Yes?" His voice was a whisper, too. Matching hers.