A/N: Here's the chapter that got the story its M rating. Little bit of smut coming right up.

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Amber and I walked for several minutes through lushly decorated halls far more colourful than our city as a whole. A quick elevator ride brought us to the loft of the building, which I took to be the GeneCo tower. The hall we entered was just as decadently furnished as the other corridors, though somewhat more intimate—narrower and slightly darker. There seemed to be mood lights in this hall rather than the usual fluorescent lighting.

After another few moments, we arrived at a handsomely carved door near the end of the hall. Amber rapped it four times. We could hear a muffled grunt, the creaking of bedsprings, then the door finally opened. Standing in the frame was Pavi, his usually-perfect hair tousled for obvious reasons. We heard a squeal, and a barely-clothed woman darted between him and the doorframe and down the corridor. My eyes followed her as she slipped into the elevator, knowing that she would never return.

"Ah, sister! You have-a interrupted the Pavi" He too was looking to where the woman had disappeared. "A pity! She was a feisty signora." He winked heartily at Amber, as if she understood exactly what he was talking about.

Instead, she replied with a look of disgust. "Here she is. Will you stop bitching now?" Amber gave my back a shove, pushing me very nearly into her brother.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders. "Ah, yes! Thank you, dear sister. I will-a stop the...ah, bitching." We retreated into the room, and Amber was already stalking off even as Pavi slammed the door.

"So!" he cried. "Bella! I have-a not seen you in such a very long time. Where-a have you been?" He led me to what looked like a living room, and sat me down beside him on a cozy loveseat.

"Avoiding you," I growled.

He continued to smile, though his eyes betrayed disappointment. "Why, bella, why must you avoid the Pavi?" His fingers caressed my shoulder. The feeling, however, was not sexual. Strangely enough, it felt more like a gesture of comfort.

"I've already told you. You disgust me. The way you sleep around, the way you treat all the girls in this town, the way you—you—you're a murderer! You kill people and take their faces!" It was a stream of uncorked detestation. It felt wonderful to release it all.

Pavi ran a hand down his own face. "Bella...the Pavi has never-a murdered a soul." His voice was bemused. He sounded more like a wounded puppy dog more than anything. "Anyone who has-a said such a thing...I have-a only taken the faces of people who are already dead. I have never-a killed for a face."

"Oh, like that's so much better," I scoffed. "It's still disgusting. You're a despicable human being. You're a part of this foul corporation. You're the reason for my best friend leaving me." The tears were beginning to burn behind my eyelids. "You've screwed everything up! Get your fucking hand off me!" I shrugged out of his grasp and stormed to the other side of the room.

He said nothing, only watched me as I went. The grin of his mask, so comically excessive, struck a chord of irony.

I let the tears flow as I stood by a wall in the corner. In all the past weeks, I hadn't cried once. It was about time that I let them go. I slid to the floor and curled into a seated fetal position.

Minutes passed in painful silence. Finally, I sniffed and cleared my throat. I needed another focus that wasn't my crumbling life. "So...so...why did you never try to seduce me?"

Pavi finally stood and came to my side, though he did not sit down. "I-a figured it would not work on you, bella. The Pavi has-a seduced the ladies, even the men—everybody!" He giggled as he looked into his handheld mirror. His voice then became more serious, the Italian lilt seeming less apparent. "But for the girls who actually think—" he tapped his head "—the Pavi is not so wonderful. You'd-a be surprised. There are not many ladies who-a think around here."

"And so you chose to stalk me? Because I think?" I laughed, though it sounded watery and humourless. I wiped a few more tears from my cheeks. "And you abducted me? Why am I here? Why did you tell Amber to bring me to you? Why am I so important?" It was sounding increasingly like a poorly-written love story. The heroine detests the fickle hero, until she realizes that he has, for reasons unknown, fallen for her. She then admits her own deep feelings of attraction to him, and they live happily ever after.

Remember what I said before after happy endings, though?

Pavi waited before answering. He crouched down before me and scrutinized my face. I held my breath, waiting for the story book confession—

"You are a challenge, bambina." His eyes now matched the exaggerated glee of his mask. "But don't-a worry—the Pavi will get you-a yet!"

His words felt like a blow to my gut. I was stunned that anyone could be so blatantly oblivious to normal human behaviour. He really was a twisted son of a bitch. In that moment, I hated him more than ever. I hated his Genterns. I hated anything and everything that had to do with him.

And I hated the power he already had over me.

He registered my deadly look and got to his feet. "Bella?"

This world would be better without Pavi Largos. They're a scab upon society.

I got to my knees and pushed him back into a wall. My fingers fumbled at the button of his pants, and struggled to pull down the skin-tight material. The confusing swirl of emotions raged in my mind: hate, anger, confusion, sadness, lust

His erection belied his feeble protests. He really was nothing but a sex-driven maniac. Contempt, loathing, hate; it was all a jumble lost in the fierceness of the moment. Someone had said that there is a fine line between love and hate. Is it true? As I sunk lower into my vortex of emotional chaos, I realized that I hardly cared.

Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips to the tip. I slipped my tongue along the slit, tasting his skin. My nails dug into the flesh of his back for support. They may have drawn blood—it didn't matter, not then. With one last breath, I enveloped as much of him as I could. When I could feel him pressed to the warm, wet confines of my mouth—that, I think, is when our dynamic changed.

No frills, no foreplay, no fun. It was anger. It was me dragging my teeth along his skin while he gasped in shock and pain and pleasure. It was sucking so hard I could feel the throb of blood pulsing beneath the surface. It was his hands raking through my hair and pulling to the point of yanking it out. It was a thrust, a moan, a release from all the shit we'd been through. It was a need for me just as much as it was for him.

When he came, hot and heavy, into my mouth minutes later, I think that is when I began to hate myself.

That line between love and hate...what is it made of? What do we have to cross? Is there an overlapping portion, where it can be both?

And on what side of that line did we stand?

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-to be continued-