Dangerous Cravings: Disdain Page 11

  He stopped packing and folded his arms across his chest, his gaze burning her even through the glasses. His chalky face seemed to pale even more.

  “The silver is the only thing that helps me forget because no matter how other memories have faded, these are still strong.”

  “What memories do you want to forget?”

  “My mortal existence was so long ago that I don’t recall most of the details, only that it was unhappy until I met… my wife.”

  Alana tried to keep her expression unreadable, though she was surprised to learn he’d been married. She shouldn’t have been. During his thousands of years of life, he surely would have found at least one true love.

  “Before I was Changed, we had a child. He was five years old when I became a vampire. Several months later, under the guidance of my creator, I Changed my wife. She was the first and last vampire I ever made.”

  Alana listened carefully, noting his voice and expression were devoid of emotion. She wished he’d take off the damn glasses and really look at her.

  “We intended to raise our son to adulthood, then give him the choice about joining us in immortality. Immortality,” he scoffed. “How naïve we were. Within weeks of Changing my wife, we were discovered by a group of hunters. They took us by day and though I had lived my life as a warrior, I was not yet prepared to face the sunlight. These hunters were experienced in destroying our kind, but they had no intention of killing us quickly. I’m not sure if they were using us to study or if they enjoyed watching us suffer, but for months they kept us in some sort of prison. To this day I’m not exactly sure what it was. I was separated from my family by a barrier between our cells and deprived of nourishment. I was given little food and water and no blood. At first I could shout to my wife and son through the barrier, but the hunters didn’t like it and would punish us by depriving my family of food. My wife and I communicated telepathically until I grew too weak from starvation.”

  Alana felt queasy when she thought of what he and his family had endured. “Where was your creator while this was going on?”

  “He’d left for a short time, or so I thought. I never saw him again. To this day I don’t know if hunters found him, too, or if he abandoned me for his own reasons.”

  He paused for so long that she thought he’d changed his mind about continuing his story. “What happened during your captivity?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched in a momentary frown and he shook his head. “Would you look away?”

  “No.”

  “Fine.”

  He turned his back on her, as if he couldn’t bear to finish while holding her gaze.

  “You know what happens to vampires who are starved. Just before death, a madness takes over us. We lose all reason and the need for blood drives us to unspeakable acts in a final attempt to survive.”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “I don’t remember what happened after the madness took me, but when my sanity returned, I found the hunters had…”

  He paused, swallowing with difficulty.

  “The hunters had somehow forced my wife and son into my cell. They were dead. I had --”

  Alana took a step closer, her throat tight. His pain was almost tangible.

  “I had killed them and taken their blood.”

  She touched his back, but he flinched away.

  Drawing what she assumed to be a steadying breath, he murmured, “Well, I didn’t think I’d be able to talk about that.”

  “You’d be surprised what --”

  He sank to the floor, his back against the wall, and covered his face with his hands. The dark glasses dropped onto the carpet.

  Instinctively, she knelt and straddled him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and cradling his head against her shoulder.

  He fought to stifle his sobs and pull away, but she only tightened her grip. “It’s okay. This has been a long time coming, love.”

  After several moments, he seemed to regain his self-control, though he remained seated on the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  “What kind of man kills his wife and child?”

  “Disdain, it wasn’t your fault. No vampire can control the madness when it comes.”

  “That’s why I loathe our kind. We have no choice but to become animals in the end. Nor do I have any greater respect for humankind who would observe and torment us for no crime except being different from them.”

  “Then that’s why you never joined Dark Rhythm.”

  “I despise both races equally. I swore to learn all I could about self-defense, physical and psychic, so that I would never again be vulnerable to anyone. That’s why I first agreed to take part in Dark Rhythm’s experiment. If there was a way to overcome my aversion to silver, it would give enemies less power over me.”

  “How did you survive the hunters who’d captured you and your family?” she asked after a moment.

  “I heard them planning my death, but I was freed by another vampire, one who was ancient even back in my time. His name was Ariel and I will never forget him. He was Zigor’s Master, though I didn’t find that out until years later. Ariel taught me more about mind control than my creator ever had. He tried to curb my hatred of humans and vampires, and of myself. So many times I cursed him for freeing me when I should have died at the hunters’ hands. I deserved death more than anyone and should have taken my own life, but I was weak. Just as I had been weak when I killed my wife and child.”

  “That was not your fault. When the madness takes us, we don’t know what we’re doing.”

  “But I’ve known since. It’s long past time for me. I belong dead.”

  “But you don’t want to die.” She took his face in her hands and held his gaze. His eyes were tinged red, the skin beneath bruised from his earlier binge, for she was certain he had spent the previous day indulging in the poisonous silver drug. “It’s not weak to want to live, it’s natural instinct. You are strong, Disdain. No one can master the techniques you’ve taught us without strength.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” He tried to push her away, but she clung to him.

  “I’m not. I love you. I don’t want to lose you, but you have to be ready to admit that you want to live for yourself. We’ve been happy together, haven’t we?”

  “Yes.” He stared into her eyes as if realizing for the first time their relationship was worth holding on to.

  “Are you ready to speak to Zigor and Rolon now?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  Alana kissed him with all the love she felt.

  * * *

  Within the hour, Rolon arranged for Disdain to meet with a member of Dark Rhythm who would escort him to the cleansing. Alana was allowed to accompany him. Rolon agreed to join them to ensure the members of Dark Rhythm fulfilled their obligation and weren’t attempting to use Disdain for another experiment. The ancients’ mistrust of the organization worried Alana, but she knew this was Disdain’s only hope of survival.

  Three days later, they arrived at a secluded mansion on a Hawaiian island where they were greeted by two members of Dark Rhythm, a chemist called Rafaella who would perform the cleansing procedure, and Lao, leader of the organization.

  Though Alana was absorbed in supporting Disdain, she didn’t fail to notice the friction between Lao and Rolon.

  The chemist explained that during the cleansing, Disdain’s physical strength would be low and he would have little control over his psychic powers, possibly leaving his thoughts and memories exposed to anyone in close proximity. Only the chemist, Alana, and Rolon would be present.

  “While Rafaella starts the procedure, I would like to speak with you,” Lao said to Rolon.

  “You can say whatever you have to in front of them.” Rolon nodded toward his companions.

  “The least you can do is --”

  “I told you before, Lao. I will not return to Dark Rhythm. My presence here does not mean I’ve changed my mind. I’ve simply come to ensure you do what y
ou promised for Disdain.”

  “Since when do you need a keeper?” Lao curled his lip in Disdain’s direction.

  Alana was about to retort, but Rolon said, “Dark Rhythm is known for exploiting people at their most vulnerable. Why don’t you wait until he’s no longer dependent on the silver before tempting him into a sparring match, verbal or otherwise?”

  Lao forced a smile though his eyes shone with annoyance. “If Dark Rhythm wished to exploit him, we would not be helping him now. My barb wasn’t intended for Disdain who never made us any promises, but to you, my stubborn brother.”

  “I’m not your brother, Lao,” Rolon said.

  “So you say. I’ll leave you, then.” Lao turned to Disdain. “Good luck. I hope once your health is fully restored you will continue training our warriors.”

  “We’ll see how it goes,” Disdain said, his gaze steady in spite of how his hand trembled in Alana’s grasp.

  She glanced at Dark Rhythm’s leader, instinctively hating him. Rolon was right. He and his group seemed to care for nothing except their cause.

  Rafaella invited them into what looked like a hospital room containing monitors and medical equipment she didn’t fully understand. The chemist made some brief explanations while preparing Disdain for the cleansing. Moments later, the process had begun. The procedure reminded Alana of the Change, when blood was removed, then replaced, changing mortal to vampire.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked softly, when Rafaella left the room to attend some other work, giving them privacy.

  Disdain shook his head, then glanced at Rolon who had straddled a chair across the room. “I didn’t know you’d left Dark Rhythm.”

  “Well, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Much has happened to change my mind about them.”

  “I didn’t think they allowed anyone to leave.”

  “They usually don’t. Their exit ritual nearly killed me, but it was worth every moment to be free. Even though Lao still does his best to convince me that I’ll always be a part of them, no matter what.”

  “Why did you come back here, if it was so hard to get away?”

  “Because I know what they’re capable of. They tend to kick people when they’re down and if I can help you out, it’s worth the risk.”

  Disdain looked perplexed. “I still don’t understand why you’d do this. I’m nothing to you.”

  “But Michael Desmond is.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Disdain looked thoughtful. “Desmond. Desmond…”

  “We call him Des. He’s one of my closest friends. He saved me once, but he told me that long before we met, you saved him. He had been a newly Changed vampire, left alone by a careless creator, penniless and without any knowledge about what he’d become. You trained him until he could properly care for himself.”

  A slight smile flickered around Disdain’s lips. “Oh yes. Not a bad student, though a little naïve. Always trying to see the best in people, that one.”

  “He’s still the same. Not many people take in strays and ask for nothing in return. I always remembered you as the hardest teacher I ever had. Never imagined you had a shred of mercy in you, until I heard Des’s story.”

  “Mercy isn’t one of my virtues.”

  “He lies.” Alana slipped her hand into Disdain’s, squeezing it gently.

  Throughout the next several hours, during lags in conversation, Alana caught glimpses of Disdain’s thoughts. Like Rafaella had predicted, his psychic control slipped often.

  Alana learned that Des wasn’t the only stray he’d taught throughout his long life. Out of respect for his privacy she tried to shut his drifting thoughts out of her mind, but curiosity compelled her to glimpse a few memories. After Ariel had rescued him from the hunters, he had spent his life traveling the world, learning from the best vampiric mentors who would train him. Vowing to never again be a victim, he became a master of thought manipulation. His strong psychic power combined with his skills as a warrior made him an almost unstoppable force, yet the death of his family plagued him like a disease without a cure. He swore he would never create another vampire, a creature with the potential to go mad and destroy innocent lives, yet he also hated humankind for their narrow-minded cruelty. Loyal to neither race, he made his living by teaching his skills to almost any vampire willing to pay for it.

  In spite of his misanthropic nature, part of him wanted something more than his emotionally twisted existence. When he found vampires, or even capable mortals, who desired to learn his art but didn’t possess the financial means, he taught them without charge, asking only that they dedicate themselves completely to training. Without family or lovers, his art became his life.

  Alana wasn’t sure how much of Disdain’s memories Rolon observed, or if he respectfully blocked them out, but to his credit no emotions shone on his face. He buried his nose in a book, only looking up to engage in conversation every now and then.

  Once Disdain’s blood had been cleansed, Rafaella dismissed him, leaving him with the phone number of a member of Dark Rhythm who was also recovering from the silver addiction. He had agreed to talk Disdain through the seemingly irresistible urges for silver that were sure to come.

  “I suggest you speak with him as soon as possible, just to make his acquaintance. Then, if you feel the need to start the silver again, call him,” Rafaella instructed. “If not him, then tell your lover, a friend, anyone. The point is not to use the drug again, even once. The last time you were cleansed, we didn’t have this support system, so use it. We’ve found that it has definitely worked. Good luck.”

  Before leaving the house, Lao met them. “Disdain, I hope never to see you again for this reason, but when our next group of warriors is ready --”

  “You have my number,” he said.

  “And Rolon --”

  “Save it. This was neither a social nor a business call,” Rolon said, walking away.

  Alana and Disdain followed, slipping into the back seat of the rented car while Rolon took the wheel. During the drive to the hotel, the couple couldn’t keep their gazes from one another.

  Once in their room, they stretched out on the bed, Alana’s head on his chest, his arm snugly around her.

  “Don’t feel obligated to stay with me,” he said.

  “I don’t, and neither should you.”

  “I don’t. I…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve wanted to be with you since the moment I saw you, Alana.”

  She smiled and lifted her head to brush his mouth with a kiss. “I love you, Disdain.”

  “I love you, too.” Cupping her cheek, he drew her closer for another kiss.

  She knew after centuries of repressing his emotions, those words came with difficulty. His willingness to admit his love was a good start to what she hoped would be a long, happy life together.

  Several hours later, Alana awoke to an empty bed. She nearly panicked, but realized Disdain’s scent was close by.

  He emerged from the bathroom looking clear-eyed and healthy, a smile on his lips.

  “I see you’re feeling better,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

  He joined her on the bed, tugged her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. “I almost forgot what it’s like to feel this good.”

  Alana giggled, quivers of ticklish delight racing through her when he began nuzzling her neck.

  Reluctantly, she pushed him away and stood. “Let me wash up and maybe we can…”

  “There’s no maybe about it.” His passionate gaze fixed on her. “You have no idea how much I want you, Alana.”

  “I’ll hurry,” she said a bit breathlessly, her nipples already tight with desire.

  She quickly brushed her teeth and dove in the shower, washing in record time.

  Wrapped in a towel, she stepped into the room. Disdain sprawled naked on the bed, the TV remote in his hand. He turned off the program he’d been watching and tossed the remote aside, beckoning her with a finger.

>   “Lose the towel,” he said.

  She dropped it on the floor on her way to the bed. Wearing her most seductive smile, she crawled up the foot of the bed and slipped between his legs. Her hands caressed his steely thighs, loving the texture of hair against her palms. A purr of pleasure escaped her throat when she began covering his inner thigh with kisses. She cupped his sac and rolled it around her palm.

  Disdain’s rapturous growl spurred her arousal. Her hands curled around his staff, squeezing and stroking. She guided his cock head to her lips and flicked her tongue over it several times before drawing it deeply into her mouth. She sucked and licked, sliding the rigid staff out to the tip and running her tongue along the underside.

  Gently, she scraped her fangs along the shaft, then pierced the head. Disdain gasped, his hips rising from the bed.

  Alana’s eyes closed, her entire body tingling on the verge of climax from tasting his blood. It was as rich and powerful as she’d imagined. Bitter-sweet. The blood of an ancient.

  His fingers sifted through her hair. The sound of his ragged breath filled the room. Alana squirmed, her clit aching with need.

  “Come here,” he panted, dragging her up his body, moaning when his cock popped free of her mouth.

  He guided her onto her side, then faced her, his eyes gleaming with passion. Aligning his body with hers, he slid his cock inside her lust-drenched pussy and cupped her buttocks.

  The position was both arousing yet incredibly comfortable, perfect for blood sharing. Alana slipped her arms around him and nuzzled his neck.

  “Alana, my love,” he murmured, running his hands from her buttocks to her back. Her breasts flattened slightly against his chest, the mat of hair pleasantly rough against her nipples.

  Their hips rocked lazily against one another, keeping their passion at bay while they simply enjoyed the warmth and closeness of their embrace. Alana quivered when he began licking her neck. His fangs rested against her skin for several seconds before slowly penetrating.

  She gasped and clung to him tighter, her mouth open against his shoulder. Running a foot along his calf, she tightened her arms around him. He lapped her blood, his hips thrusting a bit quicker as his passion grew.