Dangerous Cravings: Disdain Page 10

  “I thought you understood.”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “If I did stop seeing you, I’d miss you very much.”

  “Then why consider ending it?”

  “Because it’s best for you.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. Tell me the truth.”

  “I have been truthful. I’m admitting I’m not good for you. Think about what I’ve said. There’s no class tomorrow and I have an appointment out of town.”

  “Another appointment?”

  “I’ll be back in time for the next lesson. Please think about what I’ve said.” He stooped and began picking up her clothes, but she snatched them from his hands, gathered the rest, and stepped through the door he was holding open. “Alana, please believe I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Disdain.”

  His fingertips brushed her shoulder, but she continued down the hall to her room without looking back.

  * * *

  Disdain stared after Alana, his insides twisted with guilt, anger, and disgust. He’d hurt her, nearly given away his secret about the silver powder, and almost lost half of his fee from Zigor.

  He hadn’t intended to step in front of the stupid novice and take the arrow, but he’d acted instinctively, as if some tiny part of him that remained laughably courageous had insisted he play the hero. It had taken all his powers of persuasion to keep Ash from touching his blood. The delay in receiving proper care for the injury had cost him a great deal of strength. Even though the use of the powder had built up his pain tolerance for silver, it still took its physical toll on his body, probably far more than a normal vampire.

  Once Zigor was involved, there was no way he could keep the ancient from questioning his odd tolerance for silver and his fear of contaminating others with his blood. He could only hope Zigor would respect him enough to accept a partial explanation. Thankfully, the ancient hadn’t pried too deeply, but Disdain knew after these lessons ended, he would no longer be welcome at Burgundy Peak. Too bad, since Zigor was a steady source of income.

  To top off the night, Disdain had treated Alana abominably. She cared for him like no one had in ages and he had repaid her with harsh words spoken out of anger toward himself.

  Worst of all, she was better off without him. If he thought himself capable of affection, he would say he loved her, but how could someone like him feel such an emotion? He was the lowest of creatures. Weak, violent, twisted…

  The woman and child drifted through his mind. Laughter turned to screams of terror. Love turned to savage hunger.

  It could happen again, if he let it. The hunters still existed. He was still a vampire. The only way to stop the possibility was either to end his life or else never fall in love again.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. It was too much to think about, yet impossible to forget without the silver.

  Taking his jacket and his black case, he left Burgundy Peak.

  This time might be your last.

  Then at least everything would be over.

  Chapter Nine

  Alana spent the remainder of the night in her room thinking about Disdain. She told herself he wasn’t worth crying over, but such good advice didn’t stop her from shedding tears.

  Why had she fallen in love with the bastard? Whatever his issues, they prevented him from fully participating in a normal, healthy relationship. Obviously he didn’t care enough about her to disclose his problems.

  That day, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Part of her clung to the foolish hope that he’d knock on her door at any minute and tell her he loved her as much as she loved him.

  By the following evening, she had almost accepted that the most exciting relationship of her life was over. She was nearly finished cleaning room two hundred two when Mel knocked on the door. Alana answered, curious because her friend rarely interrupted her when she was working.

  Mel forced a smile. “Come up to our place. Zigor needs to talk to you about Disdain.”

  Alana’s stomach knotted. “Now what’s happened?”

  “It’s a little complicated.”

  “Is he… is he hurt again?”

  “No. Let’s talk about it upstairs.”

  Mel helped Alana gather her cleaning supplies and drop them in a storage closet. The silence hanging between them didn’t ease Alana’s mounting concerns.

  Nearing Zigor’s chamber, Alana caught the scent of an unfamiliar vampire. An ancient.

  She and Mel stepped into the room and her gaze riveted to the vampire standing across from Zigor. Tall and attractive with brown hair and pale blue eyes, he carried himself with the confidence typical of ancient alphas. Just like Disdain. Another pang of combined sadness and worry shot through her.

  “Alana, this is Rolon Adler,” Zigor said.

  She nodded. “Sir.”

  “Do you know where Disdain has gone?” Zigor asked.

  “Why?” Alana’s heart pounded. Never before had she questioned the Master of Burgundy Peak when he asked something of her.

  “Because it’s urgent that we speak to him.”

  “Why?”

  Mel took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Alana, if you have any idea where he is, you need to tell us. It’s life or death for him.”

  “I don’t know where he is, and if I did, I’d need more of an explanation than what you’re giving me before I betrayed his trust.”

  Zigor and Rolon exchanged glances.

  “Do you know what Dark Rhythm is?” Zigor asked her.

  Alana shook her head, a feeling of dread seeping into her very bones.

  “It’s an organization sworn to defend vampire kind. They’re fanatics, just like the most zealous vampire hunters. They would as soon destroy the entire human race as drink its blood.”

  “And they’re after Disdain?”

  “Not for the reason you’re thinking,” Rolon stated. “For centuries Disdain has trained their warriors in the psychic arts.”

  “You mean he’s one of them?” It couldn’t be. Or could it? Disdain had said there was darkness in him that she couldn’t understand.

  “No. He was never a member of Dark Rhythm, but a private contractor, well paid for his services.”

  “I wouldn’t have hired a member of Dark Rhythm to teach here.” Zigor’s fangs flashed. “They are not welcome in my territory.”

  A confrontational look flashed between the two ancient males, but Alana didn’t have time to consider it. She was too worried about Disdain.

  “If he wasn’t the absolute best at what he does, Dark Rhythm would never have hired him. They prefer to keep all their associations within the organization. I assure you, if even one of the members had Disdain’s talent for teaching, they would not have worked with him. Because he was exposed to some information usually reserved for members only, he became involved in an experiment. For years Dark Rhythm has been trying to find a way for vampires to overcome their weaknesses, particularly their aversion to silver. Some members came up with a theory that vampires could build up a tolerance to silver, similar to the way we train ourselves to endure sunlight. Their chemists made a substance using silver that, when injected into the bloodstream over a period of time, seemed to create the desired effect. Once the substance entered the vampire’s system, there were several moments of intense pain which passed into a feeling of euphoria.”

  “Like a drug,” Mel said.

  “Yes, and with each dose, the vampire did seem to build a tolerance to silver -- at least to the feeling of intense pain it instigates upon contact. The tolerance remained even after the euphoria faded. The vampires who had volunteered for the experiment were able to function with silver-inflicted injuries that should have incapacitated them. Of course, the silver itself did physical damage, but they couldn’t feel it with the same intensity as a normal vampire.”

  Alana recalled Disdain’s earlier reaction -- or lack thereof -- to the silver injury and understood what they were t
rying to tell her.

  “Dark Rhythm approached Disdain and asked if he was interested in volunteering,” Rolon continued, his lip curled in disgust. “They study people’s vulnerabilities, you see. Individuals don’t matter to them. Only their cause.”

  “What do you mean vulnerabilities?”

  Rolon shook his head. “It’s not for me to rake through all his personal issues. I’m just interested in saving his life. The drug the chemists created is highly addictive. Not only that, it doesn’t really do what it was meant to. Yes, the users appear to have a tolerance for silver, but what’s really happening is they’re conditioning themselves to the pain it causes. The silver is not expelled from their bodies and eventually they build up lethal amounts. As this happens, the user begins to feel pain after the high wears off.”

  “That’s most likely why he passed out in class,” Zigor said. “He was probably experiencing the aftereffects of a recent binge.”

  “Right now we’re guessing Disdain could possibly die from his next dose of the drug,” Rolon added.

  “That’s also the reason he didn’t want us to touch his blood,” Zigor said. “Because of the drug, it would be toxic to us. I imagine the hunter was able to strike him with the arrow because he is no longer up to par physically or psychically.”

  “As close to the end as he is, I’m surprised he’s been able to disguise his condition from you for this long,” Rolon added.

  “No,” Alana whispered.

  “When Dark Rhythm realized what was happening to the victims of the experiment, they set to work on a cure and have devised a way to cleanse their victims’ blood. Disdain has already been through this once. Unfortunately, the cleansing process does nothing to help with the addiction, especially in someone with Disdain’s self-destructive tendencies. We need to convince him to go back for the cleansing and this time stay away from the damn drug.”

  “Wait a minute, how do you know about all this?” Alana demanded.

  Rolon drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “I was once associated with Dark Rhythm and had trained with Disdain. They contacted me when they couldn’t locate all of the participants of this experiment and I agreed to keep an eye out. Since Zigor has many connections, I approached him hoping he could help me locate some of them.”

  “Did Disdain mention anything to you before he left?” Zigor asked.

  “He said he had an appointment and he’d be back for class tomorrow night.”

  “Good. Hopefully that will be soon enough.” Rolon headed for the stairs.

  Sighing, Alana rubbed her temples. “I don’t understand why he’d do something like this.”

  “Neither do I,” Zigor agreed. “I have known him for centuries and would never have imagined he would do such a thing.”

  Mel slipped an arm around Alana. “Well, I think the old saying applies here. You can’t judge someone until you’ve walked in his shoes. At least in his own mind he must have a damn good reason for fucking up his life.”

  * * *

  Walking slowly up the steps of Burgundy Peak, Disdain tried to ignore the pain shooting through him from head to toe. The high from this last dose had been short lived, but the pain and nausea before and after seemed to linger for hours. He’d lain on the floor in the abandoned building for what seemed like ages before forcing himself up, fearful of being late for class. If he missed another for illness, Zigor was sure to make a fuss and he didn’t have the strength or the inclination to spill his guts to the arrogant SOB. He’d walk out, fee or no fee, before revealing his weakness to the other ancient.

  “Master Zigor wishes to speak with you in his chamber,” Onan stated the moment Disdain stepped a toe inside the foyer.

  “Later. I have to get ready for class.”

  “Tonight’s class has been canceled.”

  Rage burned inside Disdain and he momentarily forgot how terrible he felt. Now what the hell did Zigor want? Had he decided the partial answers to the questions he’d asked about his private life weren’t good enough?

  Striding through the club and up the stairs leading to Zigor’s chamber, he caught his scent, Alana’s, and that of another ancient male, vaguely familiar.

  Disdain stepped into the chamber.

  Through the shaded lenses of his glasses, he recognized Rolon Adler and his stomach twisted. Fuck. They knew.

  Zigor’s expression was characteristically unreadable, but Alana gazed at him with concern that he simply couldn’t endure at the moment.

  “Disdain, we need to talk to you,” Alana said.

  “I’ll bet.”

  “We know about your addiction and we also know Dark Rhythm can rectify your problem,” Zigor stated.

  Anger boiled inside him and he fought to keep control of his temper. “Oh can they?”

  “We know you’ve already been through the cleansing once,” Rolon said. “But this time --”

  “The cleansing means nothing.”

  “They have adjusted the program and it now includes support from others with the same addiction.”

  “I don’t recall asking anyone for advice in this matter, nor do I recall canceling tonight’s class.”

  Zigor took a step closer, his expression unyielding. “There will be no more classes until you are fit to teach them.”

  “With only one week left, I’d say I’ve done an acceptable job.”

  “Take off your glasses,” Zigor demanded.

  “They’ll go from my eyes to up your ass,” he snapped.

  “I do not condone the use of drugs. I do not accept it in my human employees and associates, therefore I will not accept it in a vampire.”

  “I don’t need your permission. You’re not my Master.” Disdain glared at Zigor, then turned to Rolon. “Nor do I need any more help from Dark Rhythm.”

  “I am no longer part of Dark Rhythm. I am coming to you as a concerned acquaintance.”

  “So am I.” Alana approached and reached for his hand, but he stepped away. The last thing he needed was her touch. She followed, this time trying to caress his face, but he caught her wrist and held it away.

  “Do you want to die?” Rolon asked. “Since you’ve been through this before, Disdain, you must know you’re carrying a lethal amount of silver in your veins.”

  “Oh really?” Disdain said with mock interest. “I never would have guessed. Thank you for enlightening me. Now if this conversation is over --”

  “It’s not over!” Alana snarled. The fury in her expression took him by surprise. She jerked the black case from his hand and opened it, exposing the contents. “This is poison, Disdain.”

  “I know what the fuck it is! It’s inside me!”

  “There’s help for you, if you just --”

  “This is not your business, Alana. It’s not yours,” he turned to Zigor, then to Rolon, “and it’s certainly not yours.”

  “If that’s how it is, then I want you out of Burgundy Peak,” Zigor stated. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a wad of bills. “This is half of what we agreed upon for the second payment, considering you won’t be around to complete the classes.”

  His teeth clenched and heart pounding, Disdain took the money and tossed it in the air. The bills floated to the floor.

  He turned and stalked out of the chamber.

  * * *

  Alana stared after Disdain for a full thirty seconds before following him. She was not prepared to let him march so easily to his death. She flung open the door to his room without knocking. He scarcely glanced at her and continued tossing his belongings into a travel bag resting atop the dresser.

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

  “You wouldn’t understand and you don’t really give a damn. Get the hell out of here.”

  “Not until you answer me.”

  “Look, I don’t want you around. Get the fuck out. Can I be any plainer?”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Even the dark glasses couldn’t disguise the hatred
in his expression. For a moment she thought he was going to strike her. Instead, he grasped her arm and dragged her toward the door. “No one cares whether I live or die. I’m sure you’re no different and this is a display of pure nosiness.”

  Though he tried to pry her away, her nails dug into his arm.

  “I do care about you.”

  His lip curled. “Don’t say that.”

  “I love you.”

  A muscle jerked in his pale cheek and he bared his fangs. “Don’t!”

  “Why? Because if someone cares about you then you have a responsibility to take care of yourself? I love you, Disdain.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not the sort of man people fall in love with.” He loosened his grip and shoved her into the hallway.

  Before he could close the door, she pushed her way back inside. “That’s bullshit. Tell me what hurts so much that you want to do this to yourself?”

  His savage look faded and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Turning away, he continued packing his bag. Finally he said, “I told you to leave.”

  “You haven’t answered me.”

  “I’m a hell of a lot older than you are, Alana. Maybe I’m ready to die.”

  “If that’s the truth, then you’d do it quickly and not put yourself through this torture.”

  “Some of us deserve torture.”

  Hope sparked deep inside her. At last they were starting to get somewhere. “Why do you deserve torture?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she stared at him, though he didn’t glance at her. “You made it my business when we got involved.”

  “All we did was sleep together. Neither of us made any promises.”

  “If I told you I wanted to kill myself, you wouldn’t care?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “It is the point, Disdain. I’ve already watched a lover die. I don’t want to lose another, so at the very least help me to understand why you want to poison yourself?”

  “All right. But don’t be sure that once you hear you won’t agree I deserve death.”

  Steeling herself against whatever he had to say, she stared at him. “Go on.”