by Kate Hill
“I don’t care if you ride on camelback through Central Park at high noon, but you will not be working with those students until you’re recovered.”
Without another word, Zigor grasped Mel’s upper arm, turned abruptly, and left.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Alana asked, stroking his hair. “And no, I don’t do thermometers up the ass.”
He smiled slightly, as if amused by her little joke. “No. Thank you.”
“Then I’ll get the blood Master Zigor wanted.” After dropping a kiss on his forehead, she walked to the door and glanced at him over her shoulder. She found him staring back, an odd expression on his face.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Fine.”
Nodding, she slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.
She approached the bar where Ash, Dechrista, and Harold sat, sipping drinks.
Bits of their hushed conversation reached her keen ears.
“He looked pretty fucked up to me,” Dechrista said. “Reminded me of myself after a bad trip when I was mortal. One of the best things about vampirism was kicking my bad habits so fast.”
“Everybody knows drugs and booze don’t affect us,” Harold said. “And we don’t get sick.”
“Maybe he was injured. Silver poisoning, perhaps?” Ash suggested.
“Whatever it is, I hope he’s suffering like hell,” Harold said before swallowing his drink in one gulp.
“With any luck, maybe he’ll die and we won’t have to finish these damn classes,” Dechrista added.
Alana had to remind herself that Disdain’s aloof, inconsiderate manner hadn’t won him many friends at Burgundy Peak. Still, the other novices’ cruel words regarding the man she was falling in love with disturbed her.
“Don’t say that, Dechrista,” Ash said.
Alana relaxed a bit. Leave it to Ash to show a little compassion.
He continued, “If he dies now, we’ll never master his lessons and they’re well worth learning.”
That was the final straw. Alana stormed to the bar and snapped, “You’re all terrible.”
“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” Dechrista asked.
“Just because he has a military teaching style doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a little respect.”
“Disdain?” Harold curled his lip. “I respect him, but I also hate his guts.”
“Since when do you care about him?” Dechrista asked. “I remember you cursing him lots of times.”
“He pissed me off, but I didn’t want him dead. I also didn’t know him like I do now. What a person shows on the outside isn’t always a reflection of what’s inside them, you know.”
Harold stood and left money on the bar. “This is too deep for me. See you guys later.”
“I need to go, too,” Ash said, leaving his payment beside Harold’s. He held Alana’s gaze. “I’m sorry if we offended you. Disdain isn’t among my favorite people, but I do respect him as a Master. I don’t wish death on him, but ten thousand push-ups would be nice.”
Once the men had gone, Alana asked the bartender for the bottle of blood Zigor had ordered for Disdain and waited for him to retrieve it.
Dechrista watched her carefully before asking, “What’s up with you and Master Disdain?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Alana. Everyone knows about the pool match the other night and you looked pretty worried about him when he passed out today. You didn’t leave when Zigor dismissed the class. Then there was your little display just now. Are you hot for the guy?”
“So what if I am?”
“Be careful. A vamp like that is twice as dangerous as silver and he won’t need a stake to pierce your heart.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“But you’re not going to take it, are you?”
Alana forced a smile. “I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, God. It’s too late. Have you and he already…”
“If we did, it’s our business.”
“Then I’m sorry you had to overhear what I said about him. Just take care of yourself, okay?”
“Okay.” This time Alana smiled genuinely.
When she returned to his room with the blood, Disdain was asleep. She left and changed into her housekeeping uniform before starting her nightly routine. After work, she’d stop by and check on him before retiring for the day.
She knew from experience that silver poisoning was extremely painful and strength-sapping. Zigor had been right to give him a few days off.
* * *
For several moments after Alana left Disdain alone in his room, he struggled through a variety of emotions. Anger and disgust at himself for his weaknesses and fear the others would discover his shameful secret.
It had taken nearly all of his remaining strength to block his thoughts from Zigor when he’d searched his mind, looking for answers about his collapse.
No matter how low he had sunk in the past, he had never humiliated himself by fainting in front of his students. He knew it was a sign that he was nearly at the end of the line. Terror took over for a moment and he laughed aloud.
His smile faded when he thought of Alana. For some reason, the woman genuinely cared about him. Worst of all, part of him had liked finding her with him when he’d awakened. She’d been a comforting presence, one that lured him to surrender to her tender touches and kisses. He didn’t deserve her, and she definitely should have a better man, not one who was so driven by the past that he longed to destroy his future.
He had existed for thousands of years and could not recall a single moment of pure pleasure in nearly as long. His life was twisted with loathing of himself and just about everyone else. Alana was the first person to touch his heart since --
No! He would not dwell on such things. Not until he could dull the memories in silver powder and finally surrender to the death that should have claimed him long ago.
Physically and emotionally exhausted, Disdain finally slept.
When he awoke several hours later, the pain that had been coursing through him had faded. Glancing at the bottle on his bedside, he felt his mouth water. He sat up, uncorked it, and took a long gulp. Nothing invigorated a vampire like pure, untainted blood. Taking it from a bottle did the job, but nothing compared to drinking it fresh. Disdain rarely allowed himself that luxury.
After the death of the woman and the boy, he had despised drinking blood straight from a person. Horrible memories soured the taste and dulled the sensations. When the vampire world introduced the novelty of bottled blood, he embraced it as deliverance.
He’d even stopped allowing other vampires to taste his blood, a practice that brought intense pleasure to both partners. Ironically, now that the silver powder made it impossible for another vampire to drink from him, he desperately wanted to be bitten.
Since meeting Alana, he had dreamed of her taking his blood, of her lovely fangs slipping into his flesh and her tongue lapping his essence. He imagined them tasting each other simultaneously, driving them into the haze of bliss only two vampires could share through biting.
He knew her desire to taste him, but she would never be able to.
With a sigh, he slipped out of bed. After washing and changing into fresh boxers, he lay back down and gazed at the ceiling. Because of his indiscretion, he was now forced to take time off that he didn’t want. He would have to make up the classes and that meant extending his stay at Burgundy Peak by two whole nights.
At least he would have more time with Alana.
Damn you, Disdain. If you had a shred of decency left, you would stop seeing her.
Or you could stop the silver and try to pursue a normal life before it really is too late.
Panic flooded him at the latter thought. It was too late for him, and he would certainly not crawl back to Dark Rhythm. He’d tried that once. Nothing had changed.
Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep again. Instead his thoughts drifted to Alan
a. He imagined her cuddled beside him, her soft hands caressing his chest, then sliding lower and curling around his cock.
As if by summoning, he caught her scent. It was followed by a soft tap on his door. His heart skipped and pounded. The woman made him feel things he’d never thought to experience again.
You ungrateful fool, send her away!
“Come in, Alana.”
Alana opened the door and glanced at Disdain, who was sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Though pale, he looked better than he had earlier. “I just got off work and wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m much better, thank you. Come here.” He extended his hand and she slipped hers into it. Tugging her closer, he grasped her waist. “Make love with me.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
In a fluid motion, he pulled her atop him so that she straddled his waist. His stiff cock pressed against her and she squirmed a bit, pleasure darting through her.
She grinned. “I guess so.”
Leaning forward, she bent her head so that her hair brushed his bare chest. Her hands splayed across it, loving the sensation of his hard pecs beneath her palms. She shifted position slightly and kissed him. She ran her tongue across his lips, hoping to taste even a droplet of his blood from where Harold had struck him, but the wound was already sealed.
Disdain cupped the back of her head and pressed her closer, deepening the kiss with lazy thrusts of his tongue that slowly became more demanding. He tugged off her sweater and quickly unfastened her bra. Both garments landed somewhere on the floor.
A moan escaped her throat when he began fondling her breasts. He squeezed them gently and caressed the nipples with his thumbs, his touch so light it was almost imperceptible. Still, it was enough to tighten the sensitive buds. He covered them completely with his hands and she instinctively thrust against his palms.
Grasping her waist, he pulled her upward so her breasts swayed over his mouth. His warm, moist lips covered her left nipple. He sucked and licked it, the tip of his tongue circling the areola.
“I love how you touch me,” she whispered breathlessly, clasping the back of his neck while he teased her nipple, then moved to the other.
Alana’s stomach clenched with desire. She felt herself growing wet and writhed against him in an attempt to stimulate her clit against his torso.
He growled deep in his throat, one hand slipping between them and unzipping her jeans. Long, powerful fingers slipped inside her fly and caressed her through her damp panties.
“Take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the waist of her jeans.
She stood on trembling legs, her pulse skipping with passion, and tore off the remainder of her clothes while he pulled off his boxers.
“Come here.” He reached for her as she slipped back into bed, pulling her atop him.
Held captive by his gaze, she stared into his lovely brown eyes, her hand curling around his cock and guiding its velvety stiffness inside her. His lashes lowered and his breathing deepened. Resting his hands lightly on her waist, he arched his head back and exposed the gorgeous column of his neck. The urge to bite him was almost overwhelming, but she recalled his aversion to blood sharing and refrained.
His grip on her waist tightened when she began shifting her hips. She controlled their pleasure, her legs flexing and her head thrown back. Scorched by passion, she rocked faster. Disdain’s hands swept over her belly and cupped her breasts. His strong yet gentle fingers flicked over her nipples, then rolled and pinched them.
Alana gasped and moaned in pleasure. She gyrated atop him, thrusting her breasts against his hands, little ripples of passion racing down her spine.
“I could watch you like this all night,” he said in a ragged voice, “if I wasn’t so fucking turned on. Come, Alana. Come for me.”
His words urged her to move quicker. Engulfed in the flames of desire, she cried out, exploding in a climax that shook her from head to toe.
Disdain’s hips lunged upward, joining hers in their frantic rhythm.
He pushed her onto her back, his cock never leaving her straining body. Growling, he thrust fast and hard.
“Yes, oh!” she panted, another orgasm building off the first.
His tongue flicked over her ear and down the side of her neck. For a moment, she thought he was going to bite her. Just the thought of blood sharing was enough to push her over the edge. Her pussy throbbed around his straining cock.
Disdain threw back his head, gasping, and came. Through her hooded gaze, she saw bloodlust gleaming in his eyes before he collapsed atop her, his hot, hard body pinning hers to the bed.
Chapter Seven
Alana awoke curled against Disdain’s chest, his arm draped over her. She smiled in contentment, wanting nothing more than to cuddle closer and fall back to sleep. Unfortunately, she had to wait tables in the club. She tried to slip carefully from his embrace, but his arm tightened around her.
“Disdain,” she giggled when he tickled her ribs and nuzzled her hair. “I have to get to work.”
“Oh, yes. Fifties Night.”
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind and stop by?”
“I told you I don’t like to socialize, especially in places where I teach.”
“You have got to learn how to relax.”
“I didn’t seem to have a problem last night.”
She warmed from the memory. “Neither did I after…”
“Start talking about it and I won’t let you go to work. I’ll keep you here and fuck you all night.”
“Tempting as that sounds, I can’t.”
This time when she tugged away he let her go. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she walked to the bathroom. He was sprawled on his back, his arm flung over his face, much like he had appeared on the first night they met. Just looking at his body made her legs weak.
She turned before bumping into the bathroom door. All too soon she was dressed and kissing him goodbye.
Two hours later, she was delivering Mel and Master Zigor’s drinks to their table when Disdain’s scent drifted through the club. Her pulse skipping, she turned toward the entrance where he stood, looking exceptionally handsome in a black shirt and jeans.
He glanced around the room filled with patrons, many wearing leather jackets, poodle skirts, and other period attire. He slipped across the floor with masculine grace, avoiding the dancing couples, and approached her.
“Zigor, Melinda,” he greeted them. “Alana.”
His gaze fixed on her, turning her knees to water.
“Feeling better?” Mel asked.
“Much.”
The fast paced song ended, replaced by a love song.
“Dance with me.”
Alana blushed a bit. “I can’t, Disdain. I’m working.”
He leaned a bit closer and spoke into her ear. “I’m a patron at the moment and you do know the customer should always get what he wants.”
Glancing nervously at Zigor, she noted that he seemed to be ignoring the situation.
Mel nudged her, winking. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to the owner for you if he accuses you of goofing off.”
Without waiting for another comment, Disdain grasped her hand and guided her to the dance floor. His arm slipped around her and it was all she could do to keep from completely melting against him.
Everything about him, from the expression in his eyes to his wonderful scent, turned her on. “This is a surprise. I thought you said you weren’t coming.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
He held her gaze with such intensity that she thought she might literally catch fire. “You’re more persuasive than you think.”
She felt several pairs of eyes upon them. A quick glance around the room revealed Harold staring at them. Ash was also looking their way, though discreetly.
“Aren’t you afraid your students will jump to the right conclusion about us?” she asked.
“Let
them think what they want.”
Smiling slightly, she rested her head against his shoulder. He tightened his grip, holding her even closer.
When the song ended, she remained in his arms for a moment before tugging away. “I need to get back to work. Are you staying for a while?”
“No, but would you like to join me for dinner when you get off?”
“I’d love to, but it will probably be late because once I’m finished here, I still need to do my regular cleaning.”
“That’s fine. Around three?”
“Sounds perfect.”
His eyes darkened with passion and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he nodded, then started walking away.
“Disdain.”
He stopped and turned to her. “Yes?”
“I’m glad you came.”
The slightest smile touched his lips, but his eyes revealed much more emotion. “So am I.”
* * *
Walking back to his room, Disdain felt torn between his growing affection for Alana and the harsh reality of his life. He had no intention of going to Fifties Night, but had sensed that for some reason Alana wanted him to. In some shadowed corner of his mind he recalled that sometimes the oddest little gestures made a woman happy. He also remembered how good it felt knowing he had pleased someone he cared about.
When he’d stepped into the club, he’d immediately caught Alana’s scent and glanced around for her. To his right, Harold stood at the bar next to Dechrista and her husband, Woodrow, who had been one of Disdain’s finest students a couple of centuries ago.
“Fuck it,” Harold had muttered, his softly spoken words barely discernable, even for Disdain’s keen hearing. “It’s bad enough we see him six nights a week. Now he has to crash our parties, too.”
“Crash?” Woodrow asked.
“Disdain,” Dechrista whispered to him. “And don’t worry. I’m sure he’s not here to mingle with us, thank God.”
“I’d rather mingle with a six-handed vampire hunter carrying just as many stakes. Besides, I was hoping he’d be at death’s door for a while.”
“No such luck.”
“Dechrista,” Woodrow said in a slightly reprimanding tone.