Kerrelyn Sparks: The Vampire and the Virgin

“Excellent.” Emma smiled. “I know the perfect place for you. The West Coast Coven Master invited you to stay at their vacation spot in Palm Springs. It’s a luxury resort and spa just for Vamps.”

Robby blinked. “A…spa?”

“Yes. They have all the latest, state-of-the-art equipment. Jacuzzis that will be wonderful for your hands and feet. Fully trained physical therapists. An Olympic-sized heated swimming pool. A huge exercise room—”

“They do fencing and martial arts?” Robby asked. He could use some practice with his sword.

“Well, actually, they’re more into Pilates and yoga.” When Robby snorted, she raised a hand to stop his objection. “Now listen. Those are excellent exercises for gaining flexibility and balance. You need that right now.”

“And do ye expect me to kill Casimir by holding a yoga pose for thirty seconds?”

Emma frowned. “There you go again with the killing. This obsession is not healthy, Robby. You’re lucky to be alive. You need to learn how to smell the roses again. Yoga will help you relax and find your center.”

“I doona think I ever lost it.” He touched his flat stomach.

“If you don’t want to do yoga, fine,” Emma snapped. “I was looking at their brochure, and they have lots of ways to help you achieve inner peace. There’s the hydrothermic massage in the Tropical Tranquility Grotto or the rejuvenating body wrap with aromatic oils. When’s the last time you exfoliated?”

Robby looked at Angus. “Is she still speaking English?”

Angus snorted. “Show respect to yer elders, lad.”

“Are ye joking? I’m a few centuries older than her.”

“True.” Emma’s mouth twitched. “But when I married Angus, I became your great-great grandmother.”

“Stepgrandmother,” Robby corrected her, then arched a brow. “Make that evil stepgrandmother.”

She laughed. “That may be, since I expect you to stay at the spa for at least three months.”

“What?” Robby gave her and Angus an incredulous look. “Ye canna be serious. If I doona practice with my sword for three months, I willna be fit for duty.”

“They also have an excellent Vamp psychologist—”

“Nay!” Robby interrupted her. Now he knew why they were pushing this damned spa on him. “I’m no’ going to a psychologist.”

“Lad,” Angus began. “Ye’re suffering from post-traumatic—”

“I know damned well what I suffered. I doona need to whine about it to a therapist. ’Tis a complete waste of time.” There was no way he was going to talk about what had happened to him. Why on earth would he describe every painful, humiliating detail? It would be torture all over again. No, it was much better to simply put the whole nasty ordeal behind him. And kill the bastards.

Emma took a deep breath. “If we made it an order—”

“Then I would quit,” Robby interrupted again. He could hunt down Casimir on his own.

Angus gave his wife a sympathetic look. “I knew he wouldna agree to yer fancy spa, but ye gave it a good try.” He glanced at Robby. “We doona want you to quit, lad. We just want you to get better, both in body and mind.”

“I’m no’ crazy,” Robby growled.

“Nay, but ye’re angry as hell, and it makes you too unstable for work. No’ only would ye be risking yer own life, but the lives of anyone working with you.”

Bugger. Robby ground the tip of his sword against the brick pathway. Angus knew exactly how to get to him. He could never put the lives of his friends at risk. “I might agree to a short vacation. That’s all.”

“Good.” Angus nodded. “Ye can use our castle in Scotland, or Jean-Luc has offered his home in Paris.”

“Been there, done that,” Robby mumbled. He’d been head of security for Jean-Luc in Paris for ten years.

“Jack said ye could use his palazzo in Venice,” Angus continued.

“Does everyone want rid of me?” Robby grumbled.

“We all want you to get better,” Emma insisted. “Roman offered his villa in Tuscany or his new one on Patmos.”

“Patmos?” He’d never been there before.

“’Tis a Greek isle,” Angus explained. “Verra lovely, I hear.”

“It’s where Saint John envisioned Revelations and the end of the world,” Emma added.

“Well, that’s comforting.” Robby shrugged one shoulder. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go for a week or two.”

“Four months,” Angus said.

Robby gaped. “ What? The spa was only three months.”

“The spa had a therapist,” Angus reminded him. “We figure if ye’re on yer own, ye’ll need more time. Of course, ye could change yer mind about therapy—”

“No. Hell, no.”

“Then four months it is,” Angus said. “All expenses paid. Plus yer usual salary. Ye canna beat that, lad.”

Emma smiled. “We’ll see you at Christmas, and you’ll be so much better.”

Better, his arse. This wasn’t a vacation. It was a bloody exile. Imprisoned on an island like Napoleon. But then, Napoleon escaped from his first island. Robby figured he could do the same. For a Vamp with teleportation abilities, it would be easy. And no one would ever know.

Island of Patmos, three months later…

O livia Sotiris eased the back door shut. It had to be about one-thirty in the morning, she guessed, but her inner clock was still on Central Standard Time.

Her ferry had arrived in the port of Skala that afternoon, and her grandmother was there, waiting with a young taxi driver who just happened to be single. After driving them the short distance to the Sotiris home in Grikos, the young Greek had stowed her luggage in the guest room, then taken them to a local taverna.

The whole village had gathered there to gawk at Eleni Sotiris’s American granddaughter. And according to Eleni, every eligible bachelor on the island was in attendance.

Olivia endured several hours of gentle scolding in broken English from the older villagers. Her crime: not visiting Yia Yia, her poor grandmother, for six long years. It didn’t matter that she saw her every Christmas in Houston, where her family lived and her grandmother migrated for a few months every winter. Olivia was still guilty of breaking her poor old widowed grandmother’s heart.

At the time, her grandmother was bouncing across the dance floor with a line of young men, happily yelling “Opa!” and breaking plates, so Olivia decided this was one guilt trip she could decline. She drank more wine than usual, hoping it would help her sleep, but here she was, two hours later, wide awake.

And once again she questioned her reason for coming. Her supervisor had insisted she take time off, but part of her argued that running away from a problem never solved it. She should have faced the monster again. She should have told him the game was over. No more sick manipulation. But what if running away just proved he was still pulling the strings?

A chilly breeze swept off the sea and up the rocky bluff to the courtyard of her grandmother’s house. Olivia snuggled her white blanket tighter around her green cotton pajamas. She wouldn’t think about him anymore. He couldn’t find her here.

She breathed in crisp, salty air. It was wonderfully quiet, with just the sound of waves breaking on the beach and the breeze ruffling the tamarisk trees. So peaceful. Except that her feet were freezing on the tile floor.

She padded across the courtyard. It was much the same as she remembered. On her last visit, the summer after graduating from high school, her father had built the arbor that covered a small section on the left. The grapevines had grown, their branches curling like snakes around the wooden frame. In the dark shade of the arbor, she could barely see the familiar wooden table and four chairs.