The wind bit at his skin as he moved down the street. But it wasn't going to be easy to just blend in and be a follower. It seemed as though the world was always attempting to make decisions for him-and without consulting him. Yes, he wanted to help the Impures. Yes, he thought they were getting a raw deal, but was it really that bad? They had the choice to stay in their credentis or get out into the real world, didn't they?

He'd just come off Ethan Dare's mind fuck of a ride. This time, he would choose where he got on and when he got off.

He rounded the corner and grinned. And speaking of getting off . . .

He jumped the curb and stepped right in front of the Hummer limo that skidded to a stop, inches from his gut. Without a thought or a word for the driver, he sprang onto the hood like a cat, walked easily up the windshield and when the sunroof opened he dropped inside.

His boots hit the floor with a dull thud, and the feminine gasp at his back had him turning around with a quick whoosh.

"Damn, sugar. We could've killed you." Clad only in a hot pink trench coat-just as Gray had instructed-the woman sat up straight on the long back seat, her legs crossed at the ankles.

"It would take a lot more than that to kill me," Gray said, his gaze moving over her, from painted toes to cleavage too rock hard to be real. But shit, who was really real these days anyway? He raised one arrogant brow. "Now, let's see if you followed my instructions. Lie back like a good girl."

The woman's skin went pink, and she called out to the driver and his companion. "Circle the block, Beecham."

"Yes, ma'am," came the reply.

"Until she tells you to stop," Gray ordered, his finger pressing down on the button for the privacy screen.

Before the glass even hit the top, the woman was reclining back in her seat, her eyes intermittently opening and closing as though she were tired. Or in heat, Gray thought, amused as he yanked the belt from her coat, tossed it to the floor and spread the lapels wide. She wasn't wearing a thing, save for the thin landing strip of hair at her core. Gray licked his lips and felt the tips of his fangs respond to his desire. He was a vampire. An Impure, true-but a vampire nonetheless, who lusted for blood and sex and more often than not the combination of both. He hovered over her, let his fire ravaged fingers trail down her taut and tan stomach, to her pelvic bone. He felt his mind shift with the action, first widen, then calm. This was where he excelled, where he felt real and right and needed. His ruined hands on skin, his mouth feeding-his cock inside a hot, wet pussy. There was something in the sound of a female's scream of pleasure that took his mind away, stole all shards of confusion and questioning about who he was, what he was. Inside a female, fingers, cock and tongue, he was air, light, adrift. Maybe that was weakness, maybe that was the Impure in him . . .

The woman hissed as he brushed his index finger through her hair, over her sensitive clit and to the opening of her body. He felt the gentle pulse of the vibrator caught inside and nodded.

"Good girl," he whispered. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to punish you."

Her hips tilted up and she bit her lower lip. "This is punishment. Torture." She let out a soft moan. "Take it out. Please, take it out. I can't hold on much longer."

Weak human female. He pressed the vibrator deeper into her pussy and growled, "You haven't come already, have you?"

She gasped, gripped the leather seat and shook her head. "No. I swear."

"I'll be able to tell. In fact . . ." He eased the vibrator from her body, then thrust two fingers up inside of her.

She cried out, bucked her hips, and slammed her cunt against his knuckles.

He chuckled softly. "No, no . . . You haven't come yet. Your walls weep with an unclaimed hunger." He pressed his thumb to her clit and stroked her, then lowered his head and sucked hard on one large pink nipple, biting at her the way she liked.

"Oh, god," she uttered breathlessly, arching her back, giving herself over to him.

No resistance here. She wanted him, would give him anything-give in to anything. That knowledge made his cock stand up, pulse even, but it didn't fully satisfy his desire. Not anymore.

"Please," she whimpered, her eyes closed, her cheeks inflamed, her hips swaying back and forth, hitting the black leather seat, then slapping against Gray's wet knuckles. "I need you. I can't . . . I'll die . . ."

What would satisfy him fully, he wondered? Not taking what wasn't offered, but perhaps a total loss of control . . . for her . . . for him?

"All right," he whispered. "I will help you-just this once."

He would be done with her tonight. His need had outgrown the sweet and simple play of this female and the others like her. But until midnight struck, he would forget all. He would forget the grand plan, the work of his brain, his mind-the connection to his fellow Impures and their need to bring down the Order, while bringing themselves into a position of power. Because, truly-THIS was the power he craved!

He ripped off the female's coat, eased his fingers from her quivering cunt and mounted her. She shook beneath him, her gaze finding his, her eyes so heavy with need and excitement and desperation to connect. He looked away. She wasn't his, didn't belong to him. They were about basic and mutual pleasure-a quick and easy distraction from their lives.

They were cunt and cock and nothing more.

With that, he sank into her hot, wet sheath and let her thoughts lead him toward climax. Slow easy stokes, his fingers pressed deep into her backside, his mouth, his tongue moving from one breast to the other, then up-up until his lips met the curve of her neck. He raked his fangs up and down her skin. Not a bite, just scratches.