by Kate Hill
Dangerous Cravings: Disdain
Kate Hill
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2005 by Kate Hill
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ISBN 1-59596-116-X
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Chapter One
Alana knocked on the door of room one hundred ten. “Housekeeping.”
No one answered, so she guessed her suspicion about the room being empty was correct. Its guest’s scent was still fairly strong, probably because he had only just left.
A glance at her watch told her it was nearly midnight. She’d better hurry along if she was going to finish all the rooms in time to watch the late night horror movie she’d been waiting for all week.
Whoever would have thought that after becoming a vampire she’d still get a thrill out of watching actors in tacky black capes strut around wearing phony fangs? Most of the time such films were so far from reality that they offered her an escape from the frightening world she had stumbled into -- and that fright had nothing to do with others of her own kind.
Realizing no one was about to answer the door, she used her key to step inside. Even with her keen vision, the place was dark as a tomb. The heavy curtains were drawn, not allowing a hint of moonlight inside. There wasn’t even a candle burning.
She pushed her trolley of cleaning supplies aside, crossed the room, and raised the shades.
Turning, she gave a shout of surprise when she found herself staring at an exquisitely formed, half-naked man sprawled on the bed. Wearing only an unbuttoned white shirt, he lay with an arm draped across his eyes. Thick black hair spread across the white pillow and his lips were slightly parted. He drew slow, even breaths, his gorgeous chest rising and falling. A dusting of hair scattered across his pecs and tapered down his lean abs before it fanned out in an enticingly bushy nest in which lolled his masculine attribute, impressive even in its semi-erect state.
Alana licked her lips, her heart pounding not only from surprise but from pure arousal.
Then something struck her as very odd. This was the first vampire she had ever known, herself included, who could sleep through having their room invaded. Usually their kind could hear and smell a potential visitor -- or threat -- a mile away.
He was either dead tired or --
“You’d better have a fucking good reason for being here,” he said in a soft yet irritated tone, not bothering to remove his arm from his eyes.
“I’m with housekeeping. I knocked, but --”
“But I didn’t answer which means I was resting.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”
“You do that.” The sneer in his voice nearly made her cringe, but also incited her temper.
Unless he answered his door, how was she supposed to know he was in here? Most normal vampires had been up and around hours ago, and if he was adamant about getting his rest, why hadn’t he used the “do not disturb” sign?
“You’re right,” he stated, sounding a little less angry. His face was still half-covered. Goodness, he was one hell of a telepath. “I should have used it. I’ll try to remember next time, but for now, would you --”
“I’m going.” Unable to resist, she swept one last glance over him. Damn, the man was fine. “Sorry to disturb you, sir.”
He uttered a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl.
Alana paused, knowing she should get the hell out of there but sensing something almost painful in the noise he’d made.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Mmm.” He dragged a pillow over his face. “Close the curtain before you go.”
What a grouch, she thought, trudging back to the window. She fulfilled his request, then left him to his darkness and silence.
Alana finished her work at quarter to twelve, leaving her just enough time to stop at the bar for a bottle of her favorite blood-laced wine. She walked downstairs to the club section of Burgundy Peak and approached the bar. Her friend Mel was seated, munching peanuts.
Only a few months ago, Mel had rescued Alana from near death at the hands of vampire hunters -- the same ones who had slaughtered her creator. Recently Changed, she felt lost without her creator to teach her about vampirism. Mel had volunteered to continue her training and had given her a job at her husband’s club, Burgundy Peak. At first Alana hadn’t understood how lucky she was to work there. Everyone on staff was under the protection of the owner, Master Zigor. An ancient alpha male, Zigor took his responsibility to his family, friends, and workers seriously. There were few safer places for decent vampires than Burgundy Peak.
“How’s it going?” Mel asked.
Alana took the stool beside her. “Pretty good.”
She turned to the bartender and asked for the bottle she’d come for. Reaching for a peanut, Alana’s thoughts drifted to the gorgeous black-haired vampire with the bad attitude. “Do you know anything about the guy in room one hundred ten?”
Mel grinned. “Funny you should ask. His name is -- get this -- Disdain. Zigor says he’s an ancient with mystical mind powers. He’s been working with the guy for centuries, hiring him to instruct his offspring and their offspring. It’s like some strange family tradition. Was he in when you stopped by to clean?”
Alana thought back to his half-naked body reclining on the bed. “Uh… you could say that.”
“Zigor has insisted I take Disdain’s class along with the other newbies. You know, sometimes it still pisses me off that he treats me like I’ve just sprouted fangs. I’ve been a vamp for close to fifty years now.”
“Sounds old enough to me, but I’m not even a year yet.”
“But you’re old enough to take Disdain’s class with me. I already asked Zigor. He wasn’t sure at first because he’s concerned you might not be up to it after everything that happened.”
“Maybe he’s right.”
Still terrified by the hunters’ attack, she was plagued by horrible dreams and was having some difficulty with mind control techniques she had once practiced with ease.
Mel rested a hand on Alana’s knee and held her gaze. “Hey, you will get over what happened eventually. There’s no big rush.”
“Thanks, but I know I’m just being a wimp.”
“You almost lost your life and you did lose your creator. Trust me, you’re not a wimp. Zigor and I both agreed Disdain’s techniques would be a huge help to you, but the training can be intense and frightening, so if you’d rather not do it, no one’s going to force you. It’s just that Disdain isn’t always easy to get a hold of and it could be years before Zigor can arrange for classes again.”
“When do the classes start?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Alana felt weak all over. If she didn’t get a hold of herself, fear would eat her alive.
“Are you up to it?”
“Yes.”
Mel held her ga
ze. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Just remember, I’ll be right there with you, so will Dechrista and a few other young vamps you haven’t met yet.” Dechrista, the wife of Zigor’s vampiric son Woodrow, frequented the club and often hung out with Alana and Mel.
“Don’t worry.” Mel draped an arm around her shoulder. “You’re a tough kid. You’ll do fine.”
Though she didn’t feel much better about herself, Alana appreciated Mel’s support.
The bartender approached with the bottle Alana had ordered. She paid and took the blood, then said goodbye to Mel and walked up to her apartment on the second floor of Burgundy Peak.
After showering, she changed into her pink cotton nightshirt and snuggled on the couch to watch the movie.
Seemingly from out of nowhere, a wave of sadness broke over her. The urge to cry was almost overwhelming.
She and Stella had loved spending nights cuddled on the couch watching their favorite movies.
The new friendships she had formed with several of the vampires at Burgundy Peak had helped her through her grief, yet at times like this Stella’s loss still seemed unbearable.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to concentrate on the movie. It was impossible.
Anger started to mingle with her sadness. She hated the people who had killed her creator, and she was furious at herself for not being able to fight them. As Mel had told her, the hunters who had attacked them had been experienced. Even Stella had been taken by surprise. How could a vampiric infant have fought them?
Shocked, she realized she wanted the upcoming lessons with Disdain so much that she could scarcely wait for them to begin. She was more than ready to take hold of her life again. Mel and the others had been sensitive and supportive, but it was time she started using the gifts Stella had given her and began acting like a vampire.
Thinking about Disdain’s lessons made her consider the man himself. Recalling his sexy voice and even sexier body, she felt an odd tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. In spite of his strangeness and surly disposition, she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. No matter what happened, she had to keep her desire a secret. She didn’t want anything to interfere with their instructor/trainee relationship.
Chapter Two
The following evening, Alana and Mel arrived together for Disdain’s first class. It was held in the largest of Burgundy Peak’s basement training rooms which were commonly used for fencing practice.
Even with a fire leaping in the hearth, the brick and concrete room was chilly and resembled a torture chamber. Alana hated the basement and always did her best to avoid it.
Dechrista, a young, dark-haired vampiress, sat on the floor by the hearth. A male vampire with silver streaked blond hair stood with a shoulder leaning against the wall. Mel introduced him as Ash Collins.
While waiting for the last of the students as well as the teacher to arrive, the small group talked. Mel and Dechrista were the eldest, having been vampires for fifty and ten years respectively. Like Alana, Ash had only been Changed slightly less than a year ago. This surprised her, since he exuded unusual power for one so young, but Alana had often been told the same. Funny she didn’t feel powerful, but angry, lonely, and scared.
In the midst of their conversation, the last two students joined them. One was an attractive, full-figured vampiress and the other a tall, well-muscled male.
“Marie, Harold, what’s up?” Dechrista called.
“He’s not here yet, is he?” Marie said, glancing around the room. “Disdain, I mean. The way Charles talked about him scared the crap out of me.”
“Charles is Marie’s husband and Zigor’s offspring,” Mel explained to Alana.
“No, he hasn’t yet graced us with his presence,” Ash quipped.
Dechrista clasped her hands in mock prayer. “Ash, please, please, try to be cool. I told Tavia I’d keep an eye on you.”
He snorted, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t need a keeper and when I get home I’ll let Tavia know what I think about you and her plotting to keep an eye on --”
“Hey.” Harold grinned stupidly and jerked his thumb in Ash’s direction. “He’s the pain in the ass. Onan told me about him.”
Ash glared. “Excuse me?”
“All right, that’s enough. It’s exactly ten o’clock, so our instructor should be here any second,” Mel said.
“He should be, since we were all told not to be a second late,” Ash muttered.
“Alana, pay no attention to these guys,” Mel told her.
Forcing a smile, Alana glanced at the others, feeling a bit out of place since they all seemed to know each other. They were connected to some of Master Zigor’s favorite offspring. She was the only one present who wasn’t part of the “family.”
Marie wrinkled her nose. “It’s the males. Have you girls noticed most of them have bad attitudes?”
“Not all of us.” Harold grinned in Ash’s direction. “Only the primitive alpha-types.”
“The only primitive I see in this room is a six-foot-four-inch, blue-eyed no-neck. Anyone care to guess who that might be?”
This time Harold growled. “I do have a neck. You’re just jealous because your creator waited until you were sixty years old before she Changed you and I was preserved in the prime of life.”
Ash’s jaw tightened visibly. “I was fifty, you Neanderthal.”
“Once you’re all finished, we can begin,” said a deep voice from across the room.
The sound of it sent erotic thrills down Alana’s spine. She and the rest of the students turned toward its owner, their shock almost tangible.
“I thought you said he wasn’t here?” Marie whispered.
Dechrista shrugged, her eyes wide. “I didn’t see him.”
“Or smell him,” added Harold.
“Exactly.” Disdain rose from the chair in a dark corner of the room. “I made you think I wasn’t here. If you by a slim chance have what it takes to finish my class, some of you will have the talent to do the same. At the very least, you will be able to create illusions powerful enough to confuse an attacker, either human or vampire. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m Disdain. You will call me Master.”
“Not another one,” Ash muttered under his breath.
Disdain paused in front of him. “You must be Ash. You have lasted exactly thirty seconds longer in this class than half the staff at Burgundy Peak wagered you would before saying something stupid.”
Ash’s lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes flashed. Obviously he didn’t like being an object of amusement at Burgundy Peak. Unfortunately, Disdain wasn’t just making up the story to goad him. Alana had heard two of the club’s prostitutes talking about the wager earlier that evening.
“You want me to leave?” Ash asked.
“I should throw you out on your ass, however I sense you have potential, therefore I’ll be generous. Five hundred push-ups. Now.”
Ash’s lip curled and Alana nearly cringed. She had the horrible feeling that if he spoke another word, Disdain would do him physical harm. Marie tensed visibly and Alana heard the woman’s thoughts. Oh no. Please don’t let him make me do push-ups. No push-ups. No push-ups. No push-ups.
While Ash dropped to the ground to carry out his punishment, Disdain approached Marie and held her gaze. She paled a bit, then he continued down the line until he finally reached Alana. Looking into his gorgeous brown eyes, she felt naked.
“While you are here, you will do what I say when I say it. You will concentrate on nothing except what I teach you. If you have any personal issues that will affect your learning, leave them outside the door. Do you understood?”
“Yes,” the group said.
He shot them a warning glance.
“Yes, Master,” they repeated.
“If at any time you have a question, ask it. I’m not about to waste mind reading skills trying to figure out what you do and don’t understand.�
��
“I have a question,” Dechrista said. “What’s this attitude for? We’re here because we want to learn. Nobody’s going to give you a hard time.”
“Not if you value your hide,” he sneered, stepping so close to Dechrista that they nearly touched. “I’ll say this just once. I’m not here for you to like me. I’m here to teach you dangerous techniques that require complete concentration and a great deal of talent. If you don’t like my methods, there’s the door. Whether all of you, one of you, or none of you choose to stay makes no difference to me, but it could someday mean life or death for you.”
To keep her hands from trembling, Alana clenched her fists. This man both terrified and infuriated her. What made a person this rotten? Reaching out tentatively with her mind, she tried to read his thoughts, his emotions, anything that might give her a clue about what was going on inside him.
Within seconds he was standing in front of her, his fathomless eyes once again fixed on hers. “It seems I have a volunteer for my first lesson. Have a seat, Ms. Travers.”
Alana swallowed nervously, but sat in a folding chair by the fireplace. He dragged another over, positioned it across from her, and straddled it backward.
“This lesson will be in creating a simple illusion. According to Zigor, Mr. Collins already has an excellent grasp of illusions, therefore it doesn’t matter that he’s too busy to join us.”
A low, angry growl rumbled in Ash’s chest as he mechanically continued performing his push-ups.
“The rest of you, move closer and observe. Ms. Travers, I want you to close your eyes and imagine you’re completely alone. Think about a particular memory. Once you have it, send the image to the rest of us.”
Fine. Simple telepathy. She could handle that.
Alana imagined the one thing she knew would nab the attention of every vampire in the room. She recalled the last time she’d tasted the blood of a human donor.
“Good. Now I want you to make your thoughts so strong that the rest of us can’t focus on anything else. I want you to make us taste his blood.”