Vacation With a Vampire...and Other Immortals

by Maggie Shayne

  “My workshop. I’m building a new sailboat.”

  A tiny animal—like a miniature deer—grazed nearby. Its head came up, soft eyes meeting hers, nostrils flaring slightly. But it didn’t run away. It looked at the man who held her, and he looked back. Anna watched his face, more caught up in his expression than the odd little animal. He looked at it the way an adoring father looks at his child. He loved it. He smiled at it, and she looked back at the tiny deer as it returned to grazing. Something moved in her peripheral vision, and she glimpsed a peacock strutting along one of the winding paths that led into the forest, its long tail dragging behind.

  She looked and looked and looked. And the more she looked, the more beauty she saw unfolding beneath the nighttime sky, that was clear and glittering with stars. And then, slowly, she swung her wide eyes to his again and asked, “Are you sure this isn’t heaven?”

  Chapter 5

  Diego was both pleased and troubled by her reaction to the haven he’d created. Pleased, because it gave him pride to share what he had chosen to surround himself with. The natural beauty. The place he’d worked on until it became his idea of paradise. And yes, heaven, because he would never see the real thing, being an immortal. Or if he did, he wasn’t sure he would be allowed in. Weren’t vampires damned?

  The only thing his paradise lacked was the presence of other people. But he’d chosen to make it that way. And he’d protected his solitude with every power at his disposal.

  But he was worried by her reaction, too, because she seemed to love Serenity Island just a little bit too much. He didn’t want her here any longer than she had to be. And that was a difficult thought to maintain while holding her cradled in his arms, her body resting against him, her arms linked around his neck.

  She twisted to look over his shoulder, back at the house, a two-story structure of logs and cobblestones. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale,” she said. “Did you build it?”

  He nodded, realized her striking sea-blue gaze was no longer focused on him and spoke. “Yes. Over the course of…several years.”

  “But how?” she asked, her wide eyes meeting his once more. “There were lights inside…I saw—”

  “I use the sun and the wind.” He pointed with his chin, since his arms were busy holding her. Her eyes followed his gaze to the windmill standing on the highest hill on the island, visible like a sentinel in the distance. He’d had to anchor it in place the night of the storm, but he’d since set it free again. Then he showed her the solar panels lined up on the roof of his home. There were more at the workshop. “Batteries store the excess. I’m never short of power here.”

  She drew her eyes from the roof to gaze into his once more. “The world could learn a lot from a man like you.”

  “I want no part of the world,” he whispered.

  She swallowed, silent for a moment, searching, and he felt almost as if she were probing his mind the way he had probed hers. But she wasn’t capable of such a trick, was she? She was no vampire. And yet he felt himself erecting a mental barrier to his mind, the way he would do were some strange vampire trying to read thoughts he wanted to keep to himself.

  “Where did you get the lumber?” she asked at length. “The stone?”

  “From the mainland,” he explained. “A little at a time. All Maria could carry in a single trip, and then back for more when I ran out.”

  “Maria?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.

  The wind lifted her hair and made it dance. He nearly lost himself in watching it.

  “My sailboat. The Santa Maria XIII.”

  She frowned very slightly. “That name inspires about a half dozen questions.”

  He looked away. “It’s just a name.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.” She waited, but when he didn’t elaborate, she went on. “And you live here all alone?”

  “It’s the way I prefer it.” Had he sounded a little defensive just then? He wondered.

  “I’ve been doing something very similar myself. Bought a sailboat and set out, all alone. There’s something about being one-on-one with the sea and the sky that just—”

  “Nourishes the soul,” he said softly.

  “Yes. And clears the mind. It feels…holy. Like a sacred pilgrimage, somehow. Is that how it is for you, too?”

  “I…love this island. And I love the natural beings that inhabit it. Every plant and animal and bird. I’m not quite as fond of people.”

  She nodded as if she understood that sentiment, but she didn’t elaborate. After a few moments she said, “The sky is so clear now. It’s hard to believe it was so violent only hours ago.”

  He carried her to the log chair and lowered her into it, since holding her was so very disturbing. He’d fed, and fed well, hoping to alleviate the natural cravings that he knew would arise in him with her close by. Oh, he couldn’t harm her. But drinking from her didn’t have to harm her. Quite the opposite, in fact. And warm, living blood was so much more enticing than the cold, bagged liquid that usually lined the refrigerator in his tiny kitchen. He’d created it in case of interlopers, to make it look as if an ordinary mortal lived there. No food in the cupboards, but there were dishes.

  Since her arrival, he’d moved all the bagged blood to the cooler in the workshop, so she wouldn’t stumble upon it by accident. He didn’t need her knowing what he was—not yet. He wasn’t ready. And she still had time.

  Even as he lowered her into the chair, he sensed the warm, living blood pulsing just beneath her delicate skin. Enticing him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d—

  Yes, he could. And it was far better if he didn’t.

  “It’s been almost twenty-four hours, actually, since your ship was dashed against the barrier rocks offshore,” he told her.

  She shot him a quick look, her brows arching. “I slept the entire day?”

  He nodded. “Don’t sound so appalled. I did, as well.”

  “Well, no wonder, after the night you must have had.” He lowered his eyes. “And I’m not appalled that I did. I do most of the time. More and more, in fact. But I want to know more, Diego. How did it happen?” she asked. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

  He pursed his lips and averted his eyes, knowing that the truth would sound unbelievable. She would either guess that he wasn’t quite human or presume he was lying to make himself sound like a superman. And he didn’t like either option. So he chose a third. He lied.

  “I was out for a late-night stroll and found you lying on my beach, in the surf.”

  “Must have been a shock to you.”

  He shrugged.

  “So you picked me up and carried me back to your…your home.”

  “What else could I do? Certainly not leave you there to die.”

  “And you undressed me,” she whispered, her voice going deeper, softer.

  “It had to be done. Your clothes were soaked.” He paced away a few steps, then added, “But they’re clean and dry now.”

  “I owe you more than I can ever hope to repay,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry to have interfered with your solitude.”

  “It’s not as if you had a choice in the matter.”

  “Still…I’ll try not to bother you overly much.” She shrugged. “In fact, you’ll probably rarely see me. I’ve become almost entirely nocturnal. There’s something about the sun that makes me sleepy. The night, though…that brings me alive. At least as much as anything can, these days.”

  He frowned at her, even while wondering if that was a side effect of having the Belladonna antigen. He didn’t remember it bothering him when he’d been human, but then again, he’d been young when he’d been given the Dark Gift. Twenty-five. She had to be in her mid-thirties, at least. Perhaps even a bit older. Few of the Chosen lived to see forty. They either became what he was—a vampire—or they quietly died. Mostly the latter, since few ever knew the truth about what the antigen in their blood meant, much less knew a vampire they could ask to transform
them.

  He realized how little he knew about her and what she was experiencing. He wanted to know more, but not now. She looked tired. Weak.

  “You’re pale,” he said. “We should get you back inside.”

  “But it’s so beautiful out here. Can’t we stay a little longer?”

  He tilted his head to one side in thought, then nodded his consent and moved to the fireplace. He’d built it by digging a bowl out of the sandy soil, then lining it with stones so tightly interlocked that it was as if they’d been laid with cement. The surface surrounding it was lined with angle-cut stones in an ever-widening circle. He’d cleared the area around that, as well, so that no spark would ever land and set fire to his haven. Usually he used a domed screen to cover it, for even greater protection.

  As a vampire, he had more than one reason to fear open flames. And yet there was something so primal and so pleasing about them that he couldn’t resist. His kind had a love-hate relationship and an abiding fascination with fire. Maybe that came from never being able to see the sun.

  As always, the kindling stood nearby, and he bent to work, building a small campfire for her. As he worked, she spoke.

  “You don’t have to stay out here just because I am. If you want to go to bed, I mean…”

  “I tend to be a bit nocturnal myself,” he told her.

  “Really?” She frowned, and he knew she found that odd and wanted to ask why, wanted to dig a little. But she restrained herself with a sigh and moved on to a new subject. “Can you see the ocean from here? I haven’t caught a glimpse of it yet.”

  “From the second story you can. But there’s only my bedroom up there. And the bathroom, of course.” With a luxurious tub and shower he adored, and a toilet that had been installed just in case his hideaway was ever discovered. It was a cover. But it was a working toilet. It hadn’t been used since the last time a mortal had set foot on this island. Cassandra. But he wasn’t going to think about her.

  “What made you build so far from the shore?” she was asking.

  “Shelter from the storms. Privacy from any passing ships that might grow curious. But it’s only a short walk along that path to the beach. And you can hear the ocean from here. Listen.”

  She did. He watched her close her eyes to listen, saw the way her senses sharpened, and knew the moment she heard the waves whispering over the beach by the way her entire being practically sighed in contentment. Yes, this place had that same effect on him.

  And then her eyes opened again. “I know the full name of your sailboat, but not yours,” she said. “Who is the man who saved my life?”

  He rose from where he’d been hunkered by the fire, put a palm flat against his waist and bowed slightly toward her. “Diego del Torres,” he said.

  Smiling, she said, “I’m Anna Seville.”

  But he already knew that. He’d known it from the night he’d met her, two months ago. It was a name that had been whispering through his mind ever since. “I’m very glad you didn’t die, Anna Seville.”

  Her eyes lowered quickly, as if to hide some rush of emotion, and he heard her mind’s knee-jerk response. I’m dying soon, anyway. I thought I was ready, but now that I’ve met you, seen this place… I’m not sure of anything anymore.

  But aloud she only said, “I’m glad, too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the chance to see this beautiful place, and to meet you. Thank you for saving my life, Diego.”

  “You are more than welcome.” He stared into her eyes—and into her mind—for a long moment, then finally decided to say what needed to be said. “And that is true, Anna, despite what I’m going to say next. And I hope you won’t take offense.”

  “You saved my life. I think you’ve earned the right to say whatever you feel you have to.”

  He nodded. “You cannot stay here.”

  She frowned, all the pleasure vanishing from her face.

  “A day or two more, yes, naturally, while you recover from your injuries, but once you’re well enough to travel, I will have to take you back to the mainland.”

  Her eyes shifted away from his, and she blinked rapidly. “I understand. This is your haven. Mine was broken to bits by the storm. That doesn’t give me the right to horn in on yours.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’m glad you understand.” He wanted to say more, but there was a feeling creeping over him, one he knew all too well. “It’s nearly sunrise.”

  She seemed to shake off the discomfort—hurt, perhaps—his words had inspired in her and looked at him again. “I want to watch it come up over the ocean. Can we?”

  “Sadly, no. I have…I have a severe sensitivity to sunlight, Anna. That’s the condition that has forced me to become…nocturnal, as you put it earlier. And I need to retire soon.”

  She blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I suppose you’ve heard all the vampire jokes you care to by now.”

  He felt his eyes widen a little but schooled his expression at once. “More than I care to, in fact.”

  “Don’t let me keep you, then,” she said softly.

  He nodded. “I don’t think you’re in any condition to walk to the beach to watch that sunrise. Not today, at least. Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

  She nodded. “You’re probably right. If I find myself too weak to walk back, I most likely won’t be able to rouse you. If you sleep soundly, that is.” She tilted her head. “Do you? Sleep soundly, I mean?”

  “Like the dead.” He said it with a straight face, saw her expressionless reaction last for an expanded moment, and then she smiled.

  “I get it. Vampire joke.”

  He returned the smile with a wink. “Make yourself comfortable here, Anna. While you were asleep, I stocked the house with fruit and spring water. There are fresh fish in the kitchen if you need more sustenance than that. I caught them for you earlier. Enjoy the day. I’ll see you this evening.”

  She frowned at him, but nodded. “All right. Good night, then.” She rolled her eyes. “Good day, I mean. I guess.”

  “Just say ‘good rest.’”

  “Okay, that, then.”

  “Do you want me to help you back inside before I go?”

  She seemed to think about it, this involved thrusting her lower lip out just a little, a habit he was already finding he enjoyed. “No,” she said at length. “I’ll stay outside a bit longer. I think I can manage to limp back into the house when I’m ready.”

  “Be careful. Take your time.”

  “I will.”

  He nodded, sensing that she would not listen to him, anyway, and walked away, wondering if his secrets were safe. He’d taken every precaution he could think of to ensure they would be.

  He’d done much the same when Cassandra had shown up here, only to learn later that her innocence had been an act, and that she had known what he was from the very start and set out on a mission to seduce him, to use him, to get what she wanted from him and then walk away forever.

  And that was precisely what she had done.

  It was not going to happen to him again. Not ever.

  Not even with Anna Seville.

  Chapter 6

  Anna wasn’t afraid of him. That might seem very odd to anyone else, she supposed. Maybe it ought to seem odd to her. Or foolish, even. Here she was, alone, on an apparently deserted tropical island, with the strangest man she had ever met. What did he mean, he’d stocked the house with fruit and water and fresh fish for her? What did he eat?

  He might be strange, but he was also beautiful. She had rarely chosen that word to describe a man, but she could think of no more suitable one. The liquid brown of his eyes and those impossibly thick lashes. The slenderness of his face and the angular jawline. Skin so smooth it seemed unreal.

  All alone, yes, but perhaps not lonely. A genius, of sorts. He must be, to have built what he had here. The fairy-tale house, the natural sources of power, the entire layout, that was so very Zen-like with its beautiful landscaping. He’d created a paradise for himself. And
no one else.

  He was a solitary, ingenious artist who lived his life by night. And whose voice and face were familiar to her. Even his name, Diego, was exactly what she had known it would be. In fact, the only thing about him that seemed strange to her was that he was human and not the guardian angel she’d been expecting.

  Maybe she really was dead. Maybe this was heaven.

  She looked down at her legs, stretched out in front of her as she relaxed in the low tree-trunk chair, that was surprisingly comfortable. The firelight gave her a better look at herself than she’d had before, and what she saw made her suck in a sharp breath that caused a stabbing pain in her sore chest.

  Her legs were mottled in vivid bruises that spanned the color spectrum from brilliant fuchsia to deep gray. They looked like contour maps of mountain ranges. There were scrapes, too, but mostly deep bruises. No wonder it hurt to walk. Lifting the waistband of the boxer shorts, she saw that the bruising included her hips and, as she twisted in her seat, her buttocks, as well. She looked as if she’d been beaten with a club.

  She held out her arms and saw that they, too, were badly bruised, then shuddered at the thought of what her face must look like. She needed to go find a mirror. He’d said there was a bathroom upstairs, hadn’t he?

  She would definitely pay it a visit before too much longer. But first, she was dying to get a look around the island, and his warnings about her being too weak to walk to the beach had fallen on deaf ears. She’d been alone at sea for eight weeks now. She thought she could handle a walk, even with bruises for company.