By the time Richie's at the elevator Kate's already left the lobby, presumably on her way up to his room. He presses the elevator button impatiently, cursing himself under his breath. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was supposed to be a vampire for fucks' sakes. That meant quick instincts. Instead, he'd been sitting at the bar and pondering his options like a frickin' dumbass. And hell, what was wrong with her? Was she seriously proposing a one-night stand with him? After everything they've gone through and what they meant to each other, she really thought that was even possible?

Minutes later he rushes out of the elevator and towards his room when he spots Kate waiting by the door. She's leaning against the wall, her body absolutely banging - to use Seth's words - in that tight little dress, feet tucked into high heels. And she's wearing stockings. Fuck. They were a particular weakness of his, the sheer veil of fabric simultaneously revealing too much yet not enough and just seeing them on Kate makes him hard. Instinctively he starts to wonder what else she has on underneath that flimsy red dress. His gaze trails down the length of her body, pausing momentarily on her breasts. He remembers the feel of them in his hands, the way her pink nipples puckered under his tongue, and he has the sudden urge to taste her again, to go down on her until she's screaming his name and coming over and over again.

"Enjoying the view?" she asks, her tone grim.

"Very much so."

She's beautiful, glowing from head to toe in a way that is only visible to vampires, and he's grateful he can see her this way, a part of him wishing Seth could share this with him. It would leave his brother in awe, like it does Richie. Sometimes he thinks he could just sit there and watch her all night long, doing just that and nothing else, memorising every inch and nuance of her face and gestures but then reality kicks in and he remembers they'd be doing a lot more than just staring at each other if the opportunity presented itself. Like it has tonight. "How did you find me?"

"I've learned a few tricks over the years."

"Really?" He quirks his eyebrow, intrigued. "Tell me more."

"Let's not waste time on small talk. I need to get back."

"To Seth?"

Her jaw clenches. "No. I left him after I heard your voicemail. I don't know where he is."

A maddening rush of anger and fear sweeps through him. "Are you kidding me?" He approaches her with a quick stride, pissed as hell at the idea of her alone and unprotected. "Why would you do something so stupid, Kate?"

"Because he's hurting without you, he needs you, and maybe you don't care about that but I do. I'm used to being alone. He's not."

"And so you left him alone? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense."

"Only a matter of time before you went back to him. I made it easy for you."

"I gave you up so you could be safe. And now you go and do something this idiotic?"

"I'm not your puppet, Richie. I don't dance to your tune. You made the decision to leave all on your own. What makes you think you have any right to dictate my life?" She looks down at the door handle. "Are you going to let me in?"

He takes the card out of his back pocket, angrily swiping it through the slot. It turns green and he pushes the door, holding it for her. Kate walks past him without so much as a glance in his direction.

She saunters towards the window, her back to him.

"Want a drink?" he offers.

"No."

She turns to face him, eyes cold, blank expression in place. He's seen her hurt, angry, afraid - but never cold and it pains him, makes him feel sick to his stomach.

"Take off your clothes," she orders, calm, almost indifferent.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'm not interested in hearing any of your bullshit, Richie."

"You need to work on your seduction skills, sugar. Cause that wasn't a very nice thing to say."

She throws her purse on the bed. "It hurts at first, knowing someone who claims to love you doesn't even care enough to hear you out but, you know, you'll get over it. I have."

"Stop trying to piss me off."

"Do you want me?"

"Of course I want you. I love you."

"Yeah, sure you do," she scoffs. "You love me so much you couldn't wait to run out on me the second I started letting you in again. Just admit the truth, Richie. You like playing games, you like the chase. The second something starts to feel real you look for ways to get out."

"Fuck you!"

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"It's not the goddamn truth and you know it."

"Do I?"

There's a crack in her cold demeanor, a very striking flash of pain visible in her eyes and it makes him ache on the inside. "I didn't want to leave, Kate. I swear. But the closer we are the more access Santanico has to you and I can't stand that."

"Fine, whatever. Are we going to do this or what?"

"Haven't you heard a word I've said?" he snaps, irritated. "If we make love, she's gonna fuck with you even more."

"We're not gonna make love. It's just sex, Richie. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Don't be an idiot. It'll never only be that with us."

She moves closer, her eyes fixated on him and her close proximity begins to wreak havoc with his senses, especially when she reaches out to lay her hands on his chest and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Despite knowing better he reaches out to stroke the long strands of her hair, curling it around his fingers. There's a hitch in her throat as soon as he touches her, and he can feel the excitement begin to rush through her blood. It sings to him, hums, the white-hot desire coursing through her veins. The effect on him is heady, potent, and fucking addictive. "Every time we've fooled around, you black out. Because of her." He rests his forehead on hers, her skin warm against his cold.

"No, not always, not that time on the hood of the car. That night I just wanted a distraction and that's all you were. And see, I was fine. I didn't pass out."

The pain is palpable, like a swift kick in the gut. "So I was stress relief?" he demands, feeling furious.

"Yes. It could have been any Tom, Dick or Harry. It just happened to be you." Her eyes are firm, steady, as if she's oblivious to the stabbing pain of her words. "So you don't have to worry about me getting emotional over you. After tonight, you'll be a distant memory."

He closes his lips over hers, cruel and punishing, wanting to hurt her the same way she did him. Except she's just as vicious when she returns his kiss, biting his lips, digging her nails into his shoulders so hard it's painful. They wrestle for control but it's not an even match, not with his supernatural strength, and he overpowers her, easily, picking her up like she weighs nothing. He drops her on the bed, perched above her, gripping her arms over her head. "Is this what you want, Kate?" he asks, angry. "You just want to fuck?"

Her breath is ragged, her eyes fiery. "Yeah, that's all I want. That's all you're good for anyway."

He spreads her legs apart, slips his hands underneath the dress. With one swift gesture he pulls down her panties, ripping apart her garter belt and stockings. Rage is all he feels, rage and hurt, and he wants to punish her, to scare her, to make her realise she can't play with his feelings like he's a fucking retard who doesn't know any better. Except she's not cowering, she's unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers.

Her eyes are lit up with passion, not fear, and it makes him more frantic, hard.

It wasn't supposed to be like this between them, like animals in heat fucking each other, but that's exactly how it is. And even though a small voice in his head tells him to stop, to end this before it goes too far, he can't. Not when she's kissing him again, her tongue caressing his, her heels digging into his ass, her hands on his back.

She's turned on, her pussy wet and inviting, and it's overwhelming how much he wants her, needs her. Pushing up her dress, he finally penetrates her, and he can't remember the last time anything felt so good as the sensation of being inside her.

Her eyes are open, brimming with emotion, and he starts to thrust fast, hard, watching her as she finally begins to give into him and lose control. "Tell me you love me, Kate."

"Fuck..." She expels a hard groan, her eyes closing when he shifts her hips to slide in deeper. "Fuck!"

"Say it!" he orders, his voice rough, demanding.

"Go to hell!" she mutters through clenched teeth even as her body edges closer to climax.

Even though every fucking nerve in his body is dying for release, he pulls out. "Find someone else to finish you off," he says in a cool tone, moving away from her. He pulls up his pants and starts heading for the bathroom, intending to finish the job on his own.

A sharp object hits his back, Realising she'd flung her heel at him, he looks over his shoulder at her. Her lips swollen, dress hiked up to her waist, she looks like his fantasy come to life. Before his resolve weakens and he starts acting like a pathetic little bitch again, he enters the bathroom and slams the door behind him.