by Kate Hill
Wait. You said you would not do this while on a job.
But he didn’t actually need to work until the following night.
What kind of a fucking wimp are you?
The same kind of fucking wimp who should have ended everything long ago, but here you are. Still.
Without further hesitation, he began preparing the silver. When it was ready, he rolled up his sleeve, placed the needle to the center of a flower on the design etched into his right forearm, and filled his veins with death.
He scarcely had time to pull the needle out before burning pain tore through his entire body.
It was getting worse each time he shot up.
Flames engulfed him from head to toe, blinding him with their intensity. He writhed, biting back a cry.
Moments seemed to drag into hours.
Shit. Is it ever going to stop?
He screamed until the fire in his blood started to cool.
Finally he sat, panting and drenched in sweat, but filled with incredible energy.
His lips slid into a smile and he pushed himself to his feet. “Well, that wasn’t too bad. Now I feel so fucking good.”
His senses felt sharper than ever, yet at the same time he was buffered from the world. Nothing mattered except the fun a vamp could have in this magnificent city.
He quickly gathered his supplies and left the factory. Dusk had settled -- the perfect time for hunting. A long drink of mortal blood was just what he needed.
A short time later, he found a woman willing to slip into his car for the right price. She even seemed to like the idea of some blood play, but he was not a fool and used his mind control on her so she wouldn’t remember the bite.
Parked in a dim side street, he pushed the car’s seat back, allowing her to easily straddle him. He licked her neck, nearly laughing at the disgusting taste of her perfumed skin, then plunged his fangs in.
“Oh!” she cried, writhing upon him, her heart racing. Clinging to his neck, she panted while he drank. He felt her nipples harden beneath her scanty dress. They brushed his chest.
“Please. Oh, please,” she gasped, a sound of pleasure-pain.
Closing his eyes, he lapped her blood, his hands clutching her skinny waist. His mind floating in a silver-red haze, he felt higher than ever before. Her heartbeat skipped and he vaguely reminded himself that if he took too much, he would kill her.
Kill her. No!
Seemingly out of nowhere, he caught a flash of another woman, this one with dark hair and eyes full of love. He paused in his lapping and tried to clear the image from his mind.
Kill her.
The memory was replaced by yet another woman’s face. This one pretty, with an expression that alternated between minx-like and affectionate.
Alana.
He pulled away from the mortal’s neck and licked her blood from his lips.
“Why did you stop?” she murmured, her eyes glazed.
He opened the car door and pushed her out. “Go.”
“But --”
“If you value your life, get the hell out of here.”
“Weird,” she sighed, staggering away from the car.
Disdain drove off, his lovely high poisoned by memories that should not affect him while under the influence of silver. Maybe it was because he was getting toward the end again. The initial pain from the silver was longer, the high shorter. He had taken the usual dose earlier. Maybe he needed a little more to compensate.
He turned the car back to the factory. The night was still young, and he would have all day tomorrow to get himself together before class. Besides, there was no way he could teach with his mind continually focused on the past. If he could just forget about it for tonight, he could start fresh tomorrow.
You’re a fucking liar, and worst of all you had to drag Alana into your sordid life.
He told himself she didn’t matter. They were just engaging in a meaningless fling. She had known when she came to him that he wouldn’t be staying around. Once the classes ended, he would be gone.
Still, the next time he saw her, he would make certain she knew he had no intention of sticking around. That way he could enjoy her gorgeous body, guilt free.
If it’s just her gorgeous body you want to enjoy, then why did you hold her close all night? Did she rekindle feelings that should have died off long ago, jackass? Are you sure you don’t want more than just a good fuck from her?
Now was not the time to think about such things. Not when his mind was still spinning from the silver. Tomorrow, when his head was clear and he was back in control, he would think seriously about his life and Alana.
* * *
Alana awoke alone in Disdain’s bed. By his faded scent, she knew he had been gone for a while. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t so much as left a note. After dressing, she hurried to her room where she washed and donned fresh clothes.
It was her night off from work and the class didn’t meet on Saturdays. She had hoped to spend the evening with Disdain. After searching Burgundy Peak from top to bottom with no sign of him, she decided to speak to Onan. The man spent most of the night in the foyer and knew about the comings and goings of just about everyone in the club.
Onan was one of the most daunting vampires she had ever met, with only Master Zigor and Disdain possessing the ability to intimidate her more. She approached him cautiously. “Sir, I was wondering if you have any idea where Master Disdain is?”
“He has left.”
“Left?”
“For the night. He will return in time for tomorrow night’s class.”
Feeling numb, she realized she had been wrong in guessing last night meant as much to him as it had to her.
“Is something wrong?” Onan asked, his expression aloof.
“No. Thank you.”
She turned and slowly made her way to her room. What a fool she had been to let herself feel for a man like Disdain.
Chapter Six
Disdain awoke to his alarm clock’s piercing ring. Fighting a wave of nausea, he groped for the clock and finally managed to locate the “off” switch.
He vaguely recalled returning to his room and somehow through the silver haze remembering to set the alarm so he would have time to collect himself before class.
The way he felt, it would be a miracle if his full health was restored before then. Maybe the extra shot of silver he’d taken had left these horrible aftereffects. More likely, however, it was due to another reason that he didn’t have time to contemplate.
Ignoring the sharp little pains shooting through him from head to toe, he staggered to the bathroom and was very nearly sick.
Freshly showered and his teeth brushed, he glanced at himself in the mirror. Glazed, bloodshot eyes, the pupils still unnaturally dilated, stared from his pale face. He dressed, slipped on sunglasses, and was about to order black coffee and dry toast from room service when someone tapped on the door.
His senses were still a bit duller than usual, but he recognized Alana’s scent instantly. An odd feeling swept over him, a combination of dread, guilt, and a touch of giddiness at the idea of seeing her again. He hesitated for a moment, then opened the door.
By the look on her face, she was not happy. “I wasn’t going to waste my time telling you this, Master, but I have to let you know I think you’re a jerk.”
“That’s a common theory, but what made you jump to that conclusion this time?”
“The very least you could have done was say goodbye before you took off yesterday. I don’t care if you believe me, but I do not make a habit of sleeping with every man I meet. I’m not asking for commitment. Just a bit of courtesy for what I thought was a wonderful night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And furthermore, if you…” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “What?”
“I’m sorry I upset you. My reason for leaving had nothing to do with you. It was a wonderful night. I just had to do something that couldn’t wait.”
> Her anger seemed to fade a bit. “Why didn’t you wake me up, or at least leave a note?”
“I was in a hurry.”
She stared at him, her brow furrowed. “Are you feeling all right? You look terrible.”
“I spent most of the day in the sun. It caught up with me.”
“Are you going to be all right to teach? I mean, you really look bad.” She cupped his cheek in her hand, using her thumb to gently stroke his face.
The sensation was all too comforting and he didn’t deserve it. He grasped her wrist and kissed her palm before returning her hand to her side.
“I assure you, I look worse than I feel.” Damn, what a lie.
“All right. Then, I’ll see you in class?”
He nodded. What’s wrong with you, Disdain? Now is the perfect time to remind her that whatever relationship you have is short-term. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, not when she was looking at him with concern and affection. Not when she was being so damn nice.
“I’m assuming our evening together won’t affect your attitude in class, Ms. Travers?” The hurt look she gave him almost made him wish he’d kept his mouth shut.
She recovered quickly and glared at him. “Don’t worry, Master. I won’t expect to become the teacher’s pet.”
Sighing, he grasped her arm before she turned away. “Alana, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I’m not an easy instructor, but I strive to be a fair one.”
“I really don’t expect any special treatment… at least not in class.”
He smiled slightly, glad she didn’t seem to hold a grudge. “Are you busy tomorrow night after class?” By then he should be fully restored and able to show her a pleasant evening.
“Unfortunately, yes. Tomorrow is Fifties Night at the club and one of the waitresses asked me to fill in for her because she’s going out of town.”
“I see. Another night, then?”
“Definitely.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Why don’t you come to the club? The era parties are usually lots of fun.”
“I try not to socialize while I’m teaching at Burgundy Peak.”
Alana laughed and ran her thumb over his lips to wipe away any traces of her lipstick. “You could have fooled me.”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he tugged her close. Holding her felt more wonderful than he wanted to admit. “You’re a special case.”
“Except while I’m in class.”
“Exactly. See you in a few hours.”
“I’ll be there. Ready for push-ups, desert heat, and any other tortures your twisted little mind can think up.”
Though her words were teasing, they stirred something miserable deep inside him. She left and he closed the door, leaning against it. Yes, Disdain. Your twisted little mind.
* * *
Alana sat with the other trainees, waiting for her turn to work one-on-one with Disdain. Ash was the first victim, locked in a psychic battle with the ancient Master.
“The Master looks like shit tonight,” Dechrista said in Alana’s ear, her voice scarcely a whisper.
Alana nodded, knowing Disdain hated even the slightest chatter during his class, and she wasn’t in the mood for sit-ups or push-ups tonight. Still, she knew Dechrista was right. Disdain seemed to be growing paler by the minute, and one didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that a vampire wearing sunglasses in a dim basement was deliberately hiding his eyes. She guessed whatever urgent business had summoned him away yesterday had something to do with his sickly appearance. Though she tried to tell herself she was growing attached too quickly, she couldn’t help worrying about him.
When it was her turn to face him, some of her concern faded when she experienced the dreaded power of his mind control. Still, by the time he had worked with each of them, he’d paled so much that even his lips had nearly lost their color.
With fifteen minutes left in the class, he called them to the center of the room for one last exercise. Alana approached him while the others gathered around.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“Fine,” he said, his teeth visibly clenched, then he took two steps and dropped to the floor.
“Disdain!” Alana knelt beside him and pushed him onto his back.
He was completely unconscious. His glasses had fallen off, revealing deep shadows beneath his eyes.
The rest of the class hurried over, Harold wearing a smirk. “The great Master passed out on us. I’ll take care of him.”
He squatted beside Disdain and struck him hard across the face, mimicking Disdain’s revival tactics when Harold had fainted during the first week of class.
The unconscious vampire didn’t react to the slap, however, so Harold hit him again. The next blow was from his fist. Blood oozed from the corner of Disdain’s mouth, but he didn’t stir.
“Stop it!” Alana shoved Harold hard, furious at him, though she knew everyone in the class had reasons for disliking their teacher.
“Can’t you see there’s something really wrong with him?” Marie snapped.
Ash grasped Harold and dragged him away from Disdain. “Hitting him must feel good, but that’s quite enough.”
Dechrista shook her head and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “I told you he looked like shit.”
Terrified by Disdain’s stillness, Alana tugged his head onto her lap.
“Here.” Marie handed her one of the towels piled atop the weight bench in the far corner of the room. Alana used it to blot some of the blood from his face.
“I’m getting Zigor,” Mel said and hurried out of the room.
Moments later, she returned with the Master of Burgundy Peak. He dismissed everyone except Mel, but Alana refused to leave.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“No. I’ll take him to his room,” Zigor stated. “He’s merely unconscious, but it looks to me like he has a bad case of silver poisoning.”
“I thought he was sick earlier tonight when I spoke to him in his room.”
Both Mel and Zigor exchanged glances and Alana realized that between her statement and her obvious worry for Disdain, she probably had given away more about their relationship than she had intended.
At the moment, she didn’t care.
“Come,” Zigor ordered the women, hoisting Disdain over his shoulder and heading for the stairwell.
Moments later, they reached Disdain’s room. Zigor tossed him on the bed while Mel went to the bathroom to get some cold water.
Alana sat on the edge of the bed and brushed hair from his face. He stirred, his bloodshot eyes opening partway. They took a moment to focus.
“What happened?”
“You passed out in class,” Alana said.
“Passed out?” He wiped his bloody lips with the back of his hand. “Must have fallen on my face.”
Alana thought it better for everyone’s health if she refrained from mentioning Harold’s “tender” attempt to revive him.
“Why did this happen?” Zigor demanded, his expression hard.
“It’s not open for discussion.”
“The hell it’s not,” Zigor growled. “You are currently working for me in my domain. You will tell me what happened.”
In spite of his apparent weakness, Disdain flung Zigor a furious glance. “Fine. It’s silver poisoning.”
“I thought as much. Where is your injury?”
Disdain unbuttoned his right cuff and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a bandaged forearm.
“This happened in my city?”
“No, Zigor, it happened in Massachusetts. Out of your territory and none of your business.”
“I said while you are teaching vampires under my protection everything that affects their classes is my business.”
“It was an old problem that I will not discuss.”
Alana sensed nothing Zigor could say or do would force Disdain to
reveal any more information.
“Here.” Mel approached, handing a wet towel to Alana who began cleaning off Disdain’s face.
He snatched the towel from her, panic glistening in his eyes. “You didn’t get any blood on you, did you?”
“No. Why?”
“Because sometimes with silver poisoning the blood is affected and can injure other vampires.”
“That’s merely what the youths of today call an urban myth,” Zigor interrupted. “For a vampire’s blood to be affected by silver poisoning would require such massive exposure that the carrier could not possibly survive. Since you are still very much alive, we can assume you’re safe enough.”
“I just don’t want to risk harming her,” he said, then looked surprised by his statement. “I mean anyone.”
“Back to the problem you don’t want to talk about. Has it been solved?”
“Yes.”
Zigor held Disdain’s gaze, as if trying to sense the truth. Alana doubted Disdain was strong enough at the moment to block out the other ancient.
“Has your wound been properly cared for? If not, I will treat it and bandage it again for you.”
“It has been taken care of.”
“Do you need blood?”
“No.”
“I will have a bottle sent up to you.”
Disdain glared at Zigor. “Do you want to stick a thermometer up my ass while you’re at it?”
Zigor said through clenched teeth, “I will allow that comment to pass because the pain of your injury has obviously affected your brain, but I warn you not to test me, Disdain. You don’t want to get on my bad side.”
“Especially not right now,” Disdain murmured, then said with forced calm, “Thank you for your assistance.”
“I’ll get the blood for him, Master Zigor,” Alana said.
“I will let the bartender know it is by my order. Disdain, I will inform your students that your classes are canceled for the next two nights.”
“That isn’t necessary. I have a set schedule.”
“Silver poisoning is not to be trifled with. You might not have the sense to see to your welfare and the welfare of your students, but I do. This discussion is closed.”
“Canceling the classes is a waste of time. I’m not about to sit in this room for two nights.”
