A/N: Fluff, fluff, fluff towards the end. I'm loving writing these two at the minute, I've already got quite a few more ideas for this story planned out.

Paul's eyes were glued to her as she moved around the cave, getting ready for the night ahead. Upon returning to the cave the night before, she refused to spare him a glance. Instead, she chose to head to her brothers' 'bedroom' and settle down there for the day. She'd slept that way once or twice before, but nothing could beat her mass of pillows and blankets – and cuddling, which hanging upside down made impossible. However after the previous night, cuddling was the last thing on her mind. The weirdness of sleeping 'vamped out' was worth the look on Paul's face when he realised where she intended to sleep.

What truly surprised her was how amused her brothers were by her new attitude. Usually when she and Paul had a rare spat (although there had been none like this since after she forgave him for turning her), they'd stay well out of it and showed no kind of opinion or reaction, other than to see if she was okay. Normally she'd have returned to the cave, talked it out with Paul and, in all likelihood, ended the night with make-up sex and cuddling. But Marko's words had struck a chord, and if being a bitch would drum how serious she was into Paul, she was more than happy to do it – and enjoy it. Revenge was going to be sweet…She just had to avoid looking at him. He'd been an utter asshole the night before, but the kicked puppy expression on his face now could easily weaken her resolve if she looked at it for too long. Asshole or not, she loved him. Her intention wasn't to hurt him, but to teach him a lesson. Unfortunately, in this case, the two were mutually exclusive. In any other circumstance she wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt, but she knew from experience how hurtful what she was about to put him through was. It would be worth it in the end. She hoped.

Cat gave herself one final, slightly nervous, appraisal in the mirror. If her plan failed she'd end up completely mortified. Quickly, she banished these thoughts. Self-doubt was the only thing that could guarantee failure. Step one of her plan was the outfit. For it to work out, she had to look good – and just to drive her point home, she'd chosen pieces that Paul loved her in. A black form-fitting velvet skirt, laddered stockings, high-heeled boots, and a Hanoi Rocks tank-top shirt that she'd cut the arms from, and a series of holes running up the back, revealing the lace bra she wore underneath both at the back and whenever her arms weren't at her sides. The look was polished by the addition of a lipstick the exact colour of blood.

"You're a cruel woman, Cat," David smirked when he caught sight of her "I don't think I've ever been so proud."

Cat snorted, pretending not to hear the furious whispers behind them as they began the walk out of the cave and up the stairs, towards the bikes.

"You gotta talk to her, man," Paul's voice hissed.

"Do I?" came Dwayne's, tone laced with amusement.

"Well she won't let me!"

"Can you blame her? You fucked up badly, bro. What kind of asshole tells his girl that no guy's gonna want her?" Marko chimed in.

"No shit! But how do I fix it if she won't even look at me?"

"Guess it's not up to you," she could almost hear the shrug as Dwayne replied.

"I'm assuming you've got a plan," David muttered, drawing her attention from the others.

"You're smart," she replied "…Can I ride with you?"

"I'd be honoured."

One of her favourite side-effects of vampirism was the predatory feeling it gave her. Walking onto the boardwalk was like being a wolf amongst a flock of sheep. That, along with her underlying anger towards Paul, gave her all the ego boost she needed.

"Well, have fun boys," she sang once they were on the boardwalk, breaking away from the group to join the smattering of tourists on the outskirts of the crowd watching the band playing that night.

This was foreign territory to Cat, but what she lacked in experience she made up for with sheer determination, spurred on by Paul's eyes burning into her back. All it took was one song's worth of swaying her hips before she found her target. He couldn't have looked less like Paul if he'd tried, but he was hot. Perfect. It wouldn't be as effective otherwise. Tan, with a mop of messy brown hair falling into his eyes which followed her every movement, and the beginnings of a goatee. A cute bookworm type (the guy was wearing a knitted jumper in California, for crying out loud), and judging by the look he was giving her, an easy meal.

Cat flashed him the smallest hint of a smile, and he replied with a cheeky, if not sheepish, grin at the fact that he'd been caught. He ruffled a hand through his hair, and continued to watch her. Trying her luck, she lifted a hand and waved her fingertips at him. The grin on his face widened. Deciding to take this as encouragement, Cat mouthed a "hi" in his direction before turning her attention back to the band. If all went well, he'd take the next step. The only thing that amused her more than how easily she'd caught his attention was that if she listened very carefully, she could just hear Paul's voice, angrily ranting. She wasn't close enough to distinguish any words, but the general tone said it all. Cat smirked openly.

The next song wasn't even finished when her target approached her, a beer in each hand.

"Hello," he smiled shyly, speaking with a thick Italian accent "May I, uh, offer you a drink?"

The beers in his hands were unopened, so she smiled and nodded. He twisted the cap off of one and handed it to her.

"I'm Cat," she offered him her free hand, supressing an eye roll when he used it as leverage to pull her closer and press a kiss to each cheek.

Instead, she giggled and gave him her prettiest smile.

"Ah, Katerina?" he asked.

No, but it didn't matter and sounded nice, so there was no point in correcting him "And you?"

Paul's incensed shouting grew louder.

"Antonio," he clinked his bottle against hers and they both took a swig "You are a tourist here too?"

"Sure," she nodded, noticing how his eyes began to trail down her body, pausing at her chest, and then her legs.

Her skirt had ridden up a little, exposing the top of her stockings, a hint of the garters and a slither of bare thigh. Cat didn't fix it.

"I could tell," he leant in a little "Only an English girl could be so beautiful."

Or a Scottish one, idiot.

"And only an Italian man could be so charming," she responded, resting a hand on his arm for a moment.

Antonio threw his head back and laughed just a little too hard. The flirting continued for a few songs, and Paul's ranting became quieter and quieter and eventually seemed to die down. Cat couldn't bring herself to turn and see his face. Sure, Antonio was hot, but his intentions were obvious and it was boring pretending otherwise. Every joke she made was laughed at too hard, and everything he said was a blatant innuendo.

"Oh, Cat, you make me laugh," he sighed eventually.

"Perhaps you could make me purr," she teased, a perfectly feigned innocent look on her face as she batted her eyelashes at him.

Any reservation, whether genuine or not, seemed to leave him at that remark. He took a step closer, into her personal space, and it took every ounce of restraint she had not to step away. It felt wrong.

"Is that an invitation or a challenge?"

"Why not both?" she tilted her head, staring up at him daringly.

"I like you, Katerina."

He followed after her down the boardwalk like a stray dog, her brothers whistling after them mockingly.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. It all felt wrong. From the texture of his skin, to the amount of pressure his hands put on her. He was too short, too quiet and too clumsy. She supposed the literal decades of experience paid off for Paul, and made her lucky in return. The second they'd retreated under the darkness of the pier, Antonio had been on her, but the sweetness of victory was overshadowed by the fact that he wasn't Paul. He let out a short, surprised gasp the first time her teeth nipped at his throat, before releasing a breathy chuckle.

"Not so rough, Katerin-ah!"

The name had lost its charm. Her teeth sank in. Blood flooded her mouth whilst his hands switched from groping to clawing. Ignoring them, she brought her legs around his waist so he couldn't put any kind of distance between them. There was no chance of him fending her off. He was gone within minutes.

After it was done, Cat sat in the sand beside the corpse for at least ten minutes, struggling to regain her breath. She quickly filled his pockets with rocks and disposed of him in the ocean, where he'd be taken care of by the aquatic life. After that she took a few moments to rinse any trace of blood from herself. Following most kills, she usually felt euphoric. Now it just felt like she'd been the one who was drained. She could still feel his damn hands on her, grabbing at her ass. She wanted Paul. He knew how to touch her, what to say. He cared, and when they were together he had her in mind just as much as himself, if not more at times. To go from that to simply being a pretty face and a body to use felt…empty. Sickening. Was this how it was for him? Suddenly she understood how stunned he'd been at her thinking it might mean anything at all. But still, it couldn't continue. Meaningless or not, it was terrible to witness. Cat dearly hoped her point had been made. She didn't want to have to go out there and do it all over again, but she would as many times as it took for him to truly admit she had a point. For him to apologise – genuinely, too, not just to make the silent treatment end.

"Cat?"

She jumped when her name rang out, breaking through her thoughts. Turning her head to the right, she saw Paul's silhouette in the darkness. He trudged through the sand and fell into the space to her right.

"…I wanted to make sure you were okay," he murmured awkwardly.

"How did that feel?" she asked softly, no hint of malice in her voice.

"I really…really…really fuckin' hated it," he admitted quietly "…And that's what it was like for you? Every time?"

"You're not as insecure as me."

He sniffed and tentatively raised a hand to her shoulder. When she didn't shrug him off or squirm away, he wrapped him arm around her properly, pulling her closer. Cat laid her head against his chest, hating how awkward things suddenly felt between them.

"I'm so sorry, babe," Cat had never heard him sound so guilty "I didn't realise how hard it was to watch."

Before she could reply, he took a breath in as though steeling himself, and continued.

"And I shouldn't have said any of that shit last night. I'm an asshole. Cat, I swear there's nobody's bullshit I'd rather listen to."

She snorted, but he remained undeterred.

"And we both know you could have any idiot on this boardwalk, and I ain't ever gonna get over how damn lucky I am that I get to be that idiot, instead of somebody who probably wouldn't say horrible shit – horrible lies – whenever they get pissed, or somebody educated, or somebody who could give you a proper home-."

Cat had heard enough. In a moment she was straddling is lap, his face I her hands as she pressed her lips against his. He pulled her tightly against him as they kissed, hands roaming across her back, her thighs, moving up to tangle in her hair, erasing all memory of Antonio's touch.

"I love you," he murmured when they parted, staring deeply into her eyes, their foreheads touching "Not just because you're hot. You laugh at my jokes, you're funny, we can talk for hours about jack shit and never get bored…No matter what bullshit I come out with, this - what I'm saying right now - is true. You're the only chick I'm interested in, don't ever doubt that, okay?"

Holding back tears was becoming a trial for Cat at that point. Paul very rarely talked about his emotions this deeply, or openly. She didn't know if it was the security of the utter darkness that enveloped them, or the seriousness of the situation that had prompted it, but she was touched.

"I love you too," she breathed "No more seductions?"

"Not unless it's you I'm seducing," he tilted his head up to give her a peck.

"You already did," she laughed quietly, remaining where she was and relishing in their close proximity.

"That doesn't mean I'll ever stop. Gotta make it worth your while," he smirked quietly before his posture stiffened for a moment "…And Cat? Promise me somethin'?"

"Hmm?"

"Never ignore me…or make me sleep alone again?"

The pure vulnerability and hesitation that seemed to envelope him hit her like a bus. Cat hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck "I promise."