by Kate Hill
“That’s impossible.”
“Don’t talk. Concentrate.”
Now that he had complicated the assignment, she found her thoughts drifting toward whether or not her companions were deeply involved in her vision.
“You’re losing us,” Disdain warned.
Losing them. Think harder. Blood. Salty. Sweet.
“You’re thinking about the words, not actually feeling the experience. Try choosing a different thought and lose yourself in it.”
“Good. All those thoughts of blood were starting to make me hungry,” said Harold.
“Quiet!” Disdain snapped.
“Sorry.”
“Seven hundred push-ups, Mr. Peterson.”
“But Ash only had to do five hundred!”
“Make that an even thousand.”
Alana felt sorry for the men. Disdain seemed impossible to work with.
“Stop thinking about what a fucking bastard you think I am, Ms. Travers. Your concentration needs improvement. The same goes for the rest of you.”
Now he was really starting to piss her off.
“All right. Don’t concern yourself with making the rest of the class see your thoughts. In fact, you three remaining women go to the back of the room and meditate.”
Alana opened her eyes halfway and saw Mel, Dechrista, and Marie walk away.
“I didn’t tell you to open your eyes.”
She glanced at Disdain. A shiver raced down her spine when their gazes locked. Just to avoid his eyes, she closed hers tightly.
“Relax.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m finding it really hard to relax in this class.”
“That’s part of the trick to learning my techniques. You must learn how to focus instantly, thereby overpowering your opponent and taking control of his thoughts, even for a short time. A few seconds can mean the difference between life and death. Try this. Think about the last time you had a completely engaging moment. Something that stimulated all your senses. Right away. Quick. Find an image and lock onto it.”
The memory of Disdain lying on his bed sprang into her mind. She briefly thought she should imagine something else, but now he was inside her, prodding her.
Don’t lose the thought, Ms. Travers. I don’t give a damn what it is.
But…
Think.
His bare chest seemed made for a woman to touch. Yes, all her senses had been engaged. She had been intoxicated by his scent, her entire body tingling and flushed at the thought of touching him. In her mind she approached his bed and sat on the edge. With his arm flung over his eyes, he couldn’t see her, so it was easier to act boldly. Gently, she placed her hands on his chest and stroked the hard muscles. His skin had been textured with a dusting of black hair and she imagined how it would feel against her palms. Her fingertips trailed down his lean sides and swept across his taut abdomen. Unable to keep her gaze from his cock, she stared at it with blatant desire. Dare she touch it? Curl her fist around it and savor its velvet thickness against her palm --
“Enough,” Disdain said, jarring her thoughts.
Alana’s face burned with embarrassment.
Her eyes opened, but she refused to look at him. Instead, she glanced around, praying the others hadn’t glimpsed her thoughts. Across the room, the women were kneeling, apparently in deep meditation. Ash, having completed his push-ups, had joined them while Harold grunted his way through his punishment.
“Ms. Travers.”
She turned to Disdain, but still refused to meet his gaze.
“Look at me when I talk.”
Anger and humiliation battled within her. Had he enjoyed seeing what she really thought of him? Of course he had. What man wouldn’t relish the thought of being the highlight of a woman’s sexual fantasy?
When she met his gaze, she detected no amusement or smugness. The man seemed devoid of emotion. Even his discipline was carried out with no rise of temper. He was merely giving orders and expected them to be followed. If they weren’t, he wasn’t going to yell and scream, but simply make their lives miserable. If they wanted to learn what he had to teach, they would obey.
“That was good in the sense that you made me feel what you felt. It was bad because you got so lost in thought that you no longer had full control over me or yourself. In time, you will improve. Join the others for now.” Disdain turned away from her and said, “You’re next, Ms. Quint. Hurry. We have much to do in a little time.”
Passing Dechrista on their way across the room, Alana noticed a muscle jerk in her cheek. She knew Dechrista well enough not to doubt that following orders irked her.
Settling herself onto the floor and closing her eyes, Alana released a shaky breath. Mel had been right. These classes were going to be hell and their teacher was Satan himself.
Chapter Three
Once his class ended, Disdain sat by the fireplace in the empty basement, watching the flames die and thinking about his new students.
All of them had the ability to learn his basic techniques. He doubted Harold was quite mature enough to grasp the most difficult skills Disdain could teach him. If Mel, Dechrista, and Marie applied themselves diligently, they could probably master all his lessons. Ash and Alana were the most talented of the group. If the young male could keep his pride under control, he had the potential to one day join the ranks of the world’s most powerful vampire psychics. Alana possessed similar talent, but the woman’s emotions were too wild. Her feelings tossed from fear to rage to lust and all the while she was hindered by self-doubt.
Zigor rarely handed him a novice who wasn’t ready to learn even his simplest lessons, but this might just be the first time the ancient Master of Burgundy Peak had misjudged a student. Alana seemed to have the power but not the emotional stability to undergo Disdain’s training.
In spite of her faults, she had done what no one in centuries had managed. She had surprised him. Not just once, but twice.
The previous night when he’d awakened from his almost zombie-like sleep, he thought he’d been imagining the lovely woman standing in his room. With her reddish hair bathed in moonlight and her azure eyes gazing at him from her pale face, she’d reminded him of a fairy or elf. Then she had said something about housekeeping. A very odd thing for a fairy to mention. Even so, he had been almost certain she was part of a hallucination. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had them since --
He shook his head. He wouldn’t think about that. Not while he was working.
Last night had been the end of a month-long jag of pleasure-pain that had to last him until the classes ended.
Turning his thoughts back to Alana, he recalled the next time she had surprised him, no more than two hours ago. When he had been teaching her the thought control exercises and she had imagined him lying naked in bed, he had finally realized she had indeed been in his room. Even worse, by the way she tossed out irresistibly erotic images of touching his body, he guessed they had slept together. A sudden bolt of fear shot through him, then he relaxed. She was alive and apparently unharmed by their encounter, so in the midst of his lust he must have somehow enforced his no biting rule.
Excellent, because his physical response to her was most unsettling. He wanted her again, so badly he could taste it. This time he wanted to be fully aware when they made love. He wished to recall each and every tasty little detail.
Oh, God. He rose to his feet and raked a hand through his hair. What the hell was wrong with him? She was a student. Off limits -- at least until the classes were over.
Who cares if she’s a student? She’s a beautiful woman and you’ve already slept with her.
But he hadn’t known who she was, hadn’t even been aware of what they’d done until he’d looked into her mind.
Not only that, he knew through conversation with Zigor she was an employee at Burgundy Peak. Most likely she had just been on duty last night. Had he even paid her? He couldn’t recall. Well, maybe Zigor had sent her. He sometimes tossed in an evening with
his best call girls as an added bonus for teaching the classes.
Stop thinking about it!
Disdain was jerked from his inner battle when he caught the scent of two vampires growing stronger with each passing second. He glanced toward the door through which stepped Onan, the club’s security chief, his wife Elizabeth beside him.
“Our apologies,” Onan stated in a voice as deep as a lion’s. “We thought you would be finished here by now.”
“I was waiting for the fire to die,” Disdain replied, sweeping by them and heading to his room.
Both Onan and Elizabeth had once been his students. Onan had been outstanding. Rarely had Disdain met a more powerful vampire. Of course, he would never reveal his admiration for the man. Disdain couldn’t be bothered with such nonsense. He preferred to keep other people at a distance, communicating with them only when necessary.
Why, then, was he interested in Alana?
It was simply a sexual urge. Once satisfied, he would lose his fascination with her. Besides, he needed to be careful and not get too fond of her. Regardless of whether or not they slept together, she was still his student and would not receive any special treatment.
“Fool,” Disdain muttered, his long strides devouring the stairs leading to his room.
Forget sleeping with her, at least until the classes end.
Damn. Two months from now.
His cock twitched just from thinking about her. He imagined peeling off her T-shirt and jeans and covering her long, lithe body with kisses. Then he would bury his face in her thick reddish hair and inhale its tantalizing scent.
Reaching the top of the steps, he paused and drew a deep breath. His heartbeat quickened for a moment. Alana was close by.
From behind the door to his left, the annoying hum of a vacuum cleaner stopped. A moment later, the door opened and Alana stepped out.
Their gazes locked. Her eyes widened and her scent grew stronger, more sexual.
“I was just on my way to clean your room, Master,” she said.
Disdain resisted the urge to close his eyes and sigh. He loved the sound of her pretty voice calling him Master. He wanted her to say it in the bedroom.
“But I can come back later. I don’t want to bother you,” she continued.
“You’re not bothering me.” He unlocked his door, then held it open for her.
“Thanks,” she said, pushing in her cart of cleaning supplies.
He opened the shades while she began making the bed. Though they didn’t speak, the tension between them filled the room. He sensed her fear of him, but also knew he aroused her as much as she aroused him.
“How long have you been working for Zigor?”
“About seven months.”
“You enjoy it?”
“I’m very grateful to him and Mel. They saved my life.”
“What happened to your creator?”
“She died.” Her clipped tone implied she didn’t want to discuss the vampire who had Changed her.
Just as well. The less he knew about her, the less he would care.
“You’re a maid?” He approached, standing near enough that when she stood she bumped into his chest.
“Sorry.” She tried to move away from him, but he refused to let her. “Excuse me, please.”
His hand rested lightly on her waist, and he cupped her face, tilting it toward his. “Why?”
Alana stared at him, her heart thumping against her ribs.
God, he has the most gorgeous eyes and he smells wonderful.
He stroked her cheek with surprising gentleness. Alana found herself rising to her toes as his mouth descended upon hers. His lips were moist and soft, yet at the same time firm. They moved slowly against hers, gradually becoming more demanding. Tracing the shape of her upper lip with his tongue, he tightened his arm around her and pressed her snugly against his lean, hard body. His cock pressed against her, a most arousing sensation.
Entranced, she closed her eyes and surrendered to sensation. No one had kissed her this intimately since Stella. Until meeting Disdain, she hadn’t wanted anyone to.
This was crazy. He was a stranger to her. The very little she knew about him hinted that he wouldn’t make a good lover, or even a decent friend, yet she couldn’t deny her attraction to him.
His mouth moved from her lips to her neck. Stimulating the sensitive flesh with feathery kisses interspersed with swipes of his warm, wet tongue, he made her dizzy with passion. She slid her hands up his back, relishing the sensation of hard muscles beneath her splayed palms.
Only when he reached between them and began unbuttoning her shirt did she snap back to reality.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She pushed his hands away and stepped back, aroused, yet angry. The very least he could do was ask her for a date before trying to undress her.
Raising a sleek black eyebrow, he folded his arms across his chest. “Not as friendly as you were last night, are you? Usually Zigor’s employees are more accommodating. Perhaps I didn’t tip you enough before. Let me know and I’ll make it up to you this time.”
Her lip curled in disgust. “What do you mean tip me? Do you think I’m a hooker?”
“Well, after last night --”
“What about last night?”
“The image of you and me naked on the bed. Where did that come from if not last night when you were in my room?”
Her mouth opened, but for several seconds no sound came out. Finally she said, “I came to clean, but you were passed out on the bed. Because of what was in my mind this afternoon you thought that I… that we… oh brother.”
Disdain stiffened. Not only had she managed to surprise him a third time, but now he felt a combination of emotions he hadn’t experienced in years. Embarrassment, amusement, and a heap of male pride. The woman had simply been fantasizing about him.
Her face tinted a most charming shade of red, she reached for her cleaning cart. “I need to go.”
“Wait.” His hand covered hers and he noted how soft and smooth it felt.
She tilted her face toward his and the urge to kiss her almost overwhelmed him.
“I apologize if I have offended you, Ms. Travers. When I arrived here last night, I was injured and therefore not at my best. Memories of your presence in my room are foggy and I jumped to a wrong conclusion.”
“Injured? I thought there was something wrong with you, but when I asked, you didn’t answer.”
“I’m fine now.” He removed his hand from hers, not liking the curious yet sympathetic expression in her eyes. This girl obviously had a crush on him, though God knew why. He did his best to cultivate an unapproachable image. Even worse, she stirred feelings inside him that were best ignored. Not only did he want her body, but when she looked at him like she had a moment ago, he longed to reach into her mind and learn more about her. The last thing he needed was to develop feelings for a student, or anyone else for that matter.
He reached for his coat and shrugged it on.
“I’m leaving for a few hours. Clean until your heart’s content, Ms. Travers.”
He strode out of the room without looking back.
Chapter Four
One week later
Alana stood with her classmates in a circle around Disdain. Though the basement was cool and the fire in the hearth nearly dead, heat enveloped her entire body. She felt as if she were standing in a desert at noon. Her skin prickled and burned. Sweat trickled between her breasts and down her back.
“You all must enjoy sunlight,” Disdain goaded. “Not one of you is even close to disrupting my illusion.”
Over a few short days, their lessons had gone from difficult to downright painful. They spent hours impressing memories and sensation upon each other and learning to detect and expel them before they took over completely. While they had progressed well in manipulating one another, Disdain was far too powerful to control. His illusions ranged from pleasurable to excruciating.
In additio
n to practice sessions such as they were now enduring, he taught them exercises for improving their concentration and perfecting their telepathy so they could enter even an older vampire’s mind without detection.
Though they found him to be patient when they approached their lessons with genuine effort, he was ruthless with any sign of laziness or rebellion. Thus far, only Alana and Marie had managed to avoid the dreaded push-ups. Ash, however, was quickly approaching the world record for most push-ups performed by a vamp in under two hours.
“Ms. Travers, what in God’s name are you thinking of? If you let your mind wander like that you’ll never get rid of me.”
You mean if we concentrate hard enough you’ll just disappear? Ash’s thoughts drifted throughout the room.
“If you’re able to think up wisecracks, I guess things still aren’t hot enough.”
The heat intensified. A loud thud echoed throughout the basement and the heat faded.
“Shit,” Alana panted, wiping a hand across her damp forehead and glancing at her companions, who looked as hot as she felt. Only Disdain appeared cool and dry.
Harold sprawled on the floor in a dead faint.
“What did you do to him?” Dechrista glared at their instructor. She and Ash knelt beside the muscle-bound vampire’s still body.
“He passed out,” Ash said.
“Somebody get some water,” Marie suggested.
A smirk twisted Disdain’s lips. “I can hardly believe he’s Onan’s offspring.”
“It’s a wonder everybody didn’t faint,” Dechrista said. “What the hell are you trying to do, kill us?”
“You can’t die from illusions, Ms. Quint.” Using his leg, Disdain nudged Ash aside and squatted near Harold. He lightly slapped his cheek. “Rise and shine.”
Harold blinked and raised himself onto his elbows. “Who hit me?”
“You fainted, Miss Peterson,” Disdain said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Do you feel you can continue now?”
Nodding, Harold rose to his feet.
“Good. I want to try something different. All of you have a seat against that wall.” He pointed across the room. “Except for you, Ms. Travers. You’ll be the first victim.”