He needed to fuck.

Hard, deep, and preferably from behind. The promise of currency did that to him.

Nicholas ran his tongue over one distended canine as he entered the club. Ribbed for pleasure. A mutation gifted by his father, the dual sensations of heat and vibration when sunk between a customer's thighs had always granted him extra funds when he'd worked the streets as a balas.

Now it was his cal ing card.

Metro wasn't the hottest club in town or the hippest, but it had plenty of dark corners, bathrooms that were rarely used for their proper purpose, and a lackluster room upstairs for minor celebrities and their catalog model companions.

Nicholas had been there a few times in the past year, and he knew the lay of the land-and the land knew him.

He had decided to lay off the tricks until Dare's capture, but after what had just gone down in Times Square, what was the point? He could manage both. In fact, a good green fuck might be just the thing to center him, get his focus back-get him amped up to kill.

Because, if it was the last thing he ever did, Dare was going to lose his life, his ability to breathe-his everything.

Just as Nicholas had.

His nostrils flared at the scent of a female with an appetite to match his own. With one glance at the appetite to match his own. With one glance at the bartender, Nicholas knew this was his trick and treat. Dark hair and eyes to match, she hovered near the bar, her drink nearly gone. She was new to him-but the moment his gaze locked on hers, he knew she had either heard about him or seen him in action.

When he walked over to her, stood over her, she looked up at him and moistened her red lips. She was a nervous creature, human and somewhere in her late twenties-but Nicholas could see the raw excitement in her eyes, scent the wetness already glistening between her legs.

He loved it-loved that he felt nothing but revulsion for her. That was how his cock did its best work.

"What do you need tonight, mon truc?" he asked, the French slang for "trick" sliding off his tongue as though he were right back in the dilapidated flat in Nice.

"You," she returned breathlessly.

Nicholas grinned. The word was simple enough, but the sound, the tone, belied her need. Nicholas knew that sound. . . Desperate, hungry. Ready to pay to play. And she would-for his rates were steep. Granted, he didn't need the money anymore, didn't need to make sure his ailing and aging mother was taken care of or that she had her day's supply of gravo-but the sickness inside of him demanded he always receive payment for his services.

"I need you inside me," she whispered. Then she grinned.

"I need you to be rough, yes? I need you to slap my ass, my face, my tits." Her grin widened, her eyes belying just a hint of embarrassment. "I need you to cal me a dirty little whore."

Ah. God, yes. There it was.

Perfection.

And maybe if he screwed her blind, she would return the favor.

"I think you need this first," she said, opening her way-too-precious flower-shaped purse. His eyes moved over the ten one-hundred-dol ar bil s sitting inside.

Come on, now. You know you want it. You know you like it. His cock stirred. That's right. Do what you're supposed to do, motherfucker-all you're good for.

Her dark eyes glistened with anticipation. "If this works out well, I'm going to bring my husband next time." She grinned. "He needs his ass spanked, too."

"I am here to serve," Nicholas said smoothly. Any and all.

It mattered not.

He was about to take the female's hand when the scent of home and concern and life-giving blood suddenly hit him like a basebal bat to the nostrils.

Shit, no.

Not here.

Not now.

Goddamn her. He fought the urge to turn around, spy her at the door to the club. She had no business coming here.

He didn't want her here, didn't want her bringing that part of his existence anywhere near him right now.

But the scent grew stronger, deeper, until it was so intense it forced him to look or be suffocated.

Fuck me.

She was already inside the club, dressed in jeans and a She was already inside the club, dressed in jeans and a sweater, her coat over her arm-the complete opposite of the female behind him. To anyone in Metro that night, Kate Everborne was as nonsexual as it got. But to Nicholas, she was the most beautiful, most desirable creature that had ever walked the earth. And he had walked it longer than most.

Kate's large brown eyes spotted him then, and she offered him a smal smile-a sad smile. Not exactly pity, but close.

His guts twisted, and he wanted to stab something-the bar, himself . . .

She knew.

And his brothers were going to pay.

"I'm waiting here," came the irritated voice of the female who had been-this close-to hiring his cock for an hour.

Nicholas turned and flattened her with a dark glare. "You wil wait."

Her eyes widened, both frightened and turned on by his blunt command. He didn't even wait for her nod, knew she would remain affixed to the barstool al night if that's what it took to get pounded both in body and in soul.

Kate stood near the exit sign, red light bathing her like ethereal blood, and Nicholas wondered if she recal ed their last time beneath a sign that glowed red.

His eyes moved over her, every inch as he approached.

"What are you doing here, Kate?"

"Looking for you."

He despised how much he loved hearing that. "How did you find me?"

"Our blood is bonded, Nicholas. It wil always lead me to you, whether you want me or not."

She had no idea how badly he wanted her. "You aren't supposed to be out."

She looked past him, to the female at the bar. "Looks like we're al doing things we shouldn't tonight."

"Go home, veana. "

"Come home, Nicholas."

He shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Why? So you can screw that skank at the bar?

Seriously? She's wearing a wedding ring, for Christ's sake."

"Not my problem."

"What does she want you to do to her? Fur handcuffs and a pole to get up that tight ass of hers?"

"I have a pole."

"I know," she countered. "I had it in my mouth last night."

Nicholas's cock went north-instantly. "Shit, Kate. What are you doing to me?"

"Trying to wake you up, jackass. This isn't your life-

doesn't have to be your life."

"You know nothing about my life."

"Not true. I know enough. And as a fel ow sufferer of the past, I know it's damn hard to crawl out of the gutter, even if you want to. It's cold and it smel s like shit, but it's familiar and sadly comforting, right?"

"You need to leave."

Her expression went tight, resolute. "I have money. Is that what it'l take? To get you away from her, from here." She grabbed a stack of twenties from her back pocket and shoved them against his chest. "It's al I've got, but it's yours."

"I'm not leaving."

Her eyes blazed into him. "Then fuck me. Take me."

"Stop it."

She grabbed his shirt, fisted the material. "If it's al about money for sex, then what does it matter whose hole you're in?"

Nicholas grabbed her arm and yanked her back into the dark hal way that led to nothing, nowhere-just like them.

"You sound ugly."

"This is ugly." She pushed him away. "Al of it."

He spun her around to face the wall, unbuttoned her jeans, yanked down the zipper. "This what you want?"

"For a start," she returned harshly, her cheek pressed against the cool black wall. "Tel me what you have to offer me besides rough hands."

He hissed, his fangs dropping. "Nine and a half inches, veana," he said, yanking her jeans down to her ankles, then unzipping his fly, letting his prick loose. "It would fil your hand nicely, as it did your mouth."

"Would it fil my cunt?"

His cock wept for her because his eyes could not.

He kicked her legs as far apart as the denim would al ow.

He thought about the twenties, al over the floor of the bar.

He thought about her face, her eyes.

"I paid you," she said sharply over her shoulder. "I paid for a fuck and I want it."

It was a gut reaction, one built out of decades of work for hire. He yanked her hips back and entered her in one hard thrust.

She cried out, her nails digging into the dirty club wal s.

Nicholas froze inside her, in her hot, wet, insanely tight virgin cunt. It was Kate. Kate, who cared for the balas, who had risked her life, her freedom. Kate, who was trying to save him right now, even as he tried to take her back down into the gutter with him.

He hated himself, despised every inch of his skin, the steeled prick inside her. His hands gripped her hips, dug in as he fought his need to thrust. "You are something else,"

he uttered. "You deserve something else-something clean."

"That's bul shit," she said on a moan, breathing heavy as her body stretched to accommodate him. "And you know it."

"It shouldn't be here. Not here."

"Yes." She started to move, rocking her hips back and forth slowly. "Yes, it should. Here. Now. Anywhere. Doesn't matter as long as you're in me."

"Kate." The blinding pain of pleasure nearly ended him.

"Fuck me! Now!"

His mind shut down and he pounded into her, gripping her hips as she held up the wall. People could've walked by, seen them-hell, watched them-and he wouldn't have noticed or cared. This was his home. Right here. Her cunt, her body, her voice, her unfathomable, unrequited care for him. It's where he belonged.

He heard her breath hitch, her quick rhythmic moans.

She was so tight, impossibly, deliciously tight, and he entered her with quick, short thrusts. He knew he must be hurting her, and yet her body, the way it moved beneath his, the constant rain of her desire against his shaft, screamed otherwise.

"Oh God," she uttered. "I can't hold . . ." Her chest jerked, her hips too, and her arms shook.

Suddenly, the wal s of her cunt contracted, fisted him so tightly his fangs dropped and he growled. He was going to come inside her-defile her with the flood of his despicable life.

He started to ease back.

"Don't you dare," she uttered hoarsely. "I paid for a ful fuck. Your cock in me, your cum in me."

Shit. Never in his life did he want to come inside someone so desperately-mark her, brand her.

He pounded into her, wild and untamed. And she met him, thrust for thrust. She cried out, her muscles clenching, bathing him in her juices until he couldn't contain it any longer. He slid al the way in, deep as her body al owed, then thrust his hips upward. He came hard, growling like a rutting animal, and Kate held stil and tight around him.

In the dark hal way of a club she didn't even know the name of, Kate breathed her way back to sanity. Though she didn't real y want to get there anytime soon. The feeling of Nicholas inside her was harmony and bliss, perfection and peace. And regardless of the way they'd gotten there, she now understood the chemical connection of a true mate.

After that initial thrust, after her body had registered him, his size, it was as though they'd been making love forever. No pain, no soreness-just extraordinary pleasure. Their bodies were literal y made for each other.

Nicholas slipped out of her and gently turned her to face him, drew her pants up. It was relatively dark in the back, in the shadows of the club, but a streak of red light from the exit sign lit their faces weakly.

Their mouths were so close, nearly touching, and Kate felt his breath mingle with hers, felt the apology that was close to coming. She didn't want it-didn't need it.

She tilted her head to the side, stretching her neck. "Do you stil want to know about these?"

His gaze slid over the slash marks. "What I want is to run my knife across the throat of every Similis guard who did this to you."

"It wasn't the guards. It was the Order." She took a breath. "Once a year, I would wake up to the most intense pain, another mark being seared into my skin as I lay there helpless on my mattress." She reached out and touched his brands with the pad of her thumb. "Similar process to these, I'd imagine."

He growled, low and feral.

"Ten marks for ten years," she said, keeping a close eye on his expression. "Ten years for murder."

He looked at her for a moment, then leaned in and kissed the marks on her neck. Ten kisses, soft and wet and sweet.

Kate closed her eyes and inhaled. God, if this could only work. Them. Her and him. If she could just give up her perception of what freedom needed to be, and he could come to believe he was more than a cock for hire, maybe they could have something.

"As you know, gifts can be given when a Pureblood needs them most. That could be at birth or death or anywhere in between," she said softly, leaning against him, her chin on his shoulder, her eyes on the wall. "My father gained his after he mated my mother. And it was a good one. He could change the emotions of anyone around him-anyone but the Order, of course." She sighed. "He always said he loved my mother more than anything in the world and he just wanted that same love in return. Supposedly when his gift had first surfaced he'd tried to change my mother's emotions into a deeper love for him. You know, amp them up. And I guess for a time that worked. But soon he grew insecure. He thought my mother was unhappy with him and her life-he thought she was hot for the Impure who worked our fields. He thought they'd slept together."

"They had not," Nicholas said gently.

"No. My mother was a fricking saint. But it didn't matter."

She sniffed, shook her head. "He got rid of the Impure and soon after, whenever my mother would piss him off, which seemed like al the time to me, he'd use his gift on her-real y fucked with her mind, took away every bit of happiness she had inside her and forced her into days of nothing but despair."

Kate felt Nicholas's hands on her back, his fingers brushing her, petting her softly.

She looked straight ahead, seeing nothing. "It was the most god-awful thing to watch. I almost wish he'd used his fist instead. He may have blackened her eyes, but at least he wouldn't have robbed her of every shred of hope."

Nicholas's hands were on her shoulders now, easing her back so he could see her and she could see him.

"My mother tried to kil herself once," she said. "But she failed, and my father made her pay for trying to leave him.

He lost his mind one night, sending images into her head so fast she couldn't even process them much less react to them. It was total emotional overload. One moment she was on the floor, her hands over her head, the next she was in the kitchen grabbing a knife. She stabbed him until he stopped, until the pain in her head stopped."

There were no tears as she spoke-Kate could never manage tears, even seeing the whole thing again in her mind. But in that moment, with Nicholas's gaze so intent on hers, she wished she could produce something to ease the tension within her.

"She'd been through too much," Kate said, shrugging like a child. "She would've never been able to live through Mondrar, so-"

"You said it was you," Nicholas finished, his black eyes raw with understanding.

"Yeah."

"Oh God, Kate. You must regret that every day of your life."

"Never," she said passionately. "Not once."

"And your mother? Where is she now?"

"She went onto the afterworld a few years ago. But she lived in peace after that horrible day."

Nicholas's hands came up, touched her face, her nose, her eyes. "Kate, listen-"

"You don't have to tel me anything, promise me anything," she said quickly. "That's not why I told you."

He brushed his thumb across her lip. "Why did you?"

"I just wanted you to know that I understand." She lifted a brow. "I want you to know that I feel dirty too. Used up.

Unworthy of anything good. After what I've been through, seen . . . But it's not the truth of what I am."

He smiled and pulled away from her. "You've done nothing wrong, only saved someone else from more hell."

"So have you."

"At one time that was true, but . . ."

As she watched him right his shirt and zip his fly, she realized that she wasn't going to convince him of anything.

His worth as a paven wouldn't come out of her assurances or attempts at mutual understanding. He was comfortable in his beliefs.

"Come." He took her hand and led her out of the shadows and into the electric lights of the club.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to take you home."

She lifted her chin. "What about, Miz Bar Back over there?"

He didn't even glance in the woman's direction. "I'm out of service."

"For tonight?"

He smiled that half smile of his, that impossible-to-read smile, and said, "Let's go, my dear," then ushered her out of the club and into the night.