The Vampire and the Virgin (7 page)

“Then…we should be all right.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Doesn’t my gift disturb you? Guys are usually out the door right after I tell

them. Some would be halfway to another island by now.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “’Tis an odd ability, I grant ye that, but I—I’m no’ in a position to cast stones for

being different.”

She still looked stunned. “You’re okay with it?”

“Aye. I’d like to see you again.”

“I—I can’t. I’m sorry.”

It hurt more than he expected. Dammit, why would she reject him? She didn’t know he was undead. She

didn’t think he was crazy. He’d been honest, so she couldn’t have caught him in a lie. But if he kept seeing her,

wouldn’t he have to lie at some point? And then she would know.

Unless…A niggling suspicion crept into his thoughts. “What am I feeling now?”

Her eyes widened. “I would say you’re…annoyed.”

Not even close. His heart was aching at the thought of never seeing her again. He stepped toward her. “Ye’re

no’ sensing me, are ye?”

Her face paled. “I’d rather not talk about—”

“Since ye value honesty so much, ye should tell me the truth.”

She looked away with a grimace. “Okay. I can’t sense you at all. And I don’t know why. It’s never happened to

me before.”

Obviously, she’d never met the Undead before. “Ye canna tell if I’m lying?”

“No.” Her shoulders drooped. “It’s terrible. I’ve never felt so…blind.”

“Lass, ’tis no’ that bad. We’re in the same boat. I canna tell if ye’re lying either.”

She snorted. “You knew the four uncles was a lie.”

He smiled. “I dinna hold it against you. I thought it was understandable and…adorable.”

He smiled. “I dinna hold it against you. I thought it was understandable and…adorable.”

Her mouth fell open, and it struck him like an invitation. Lord Almighty, he wanted to kiss her. He took another

step toward her.

She stepped back, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get involved with someone I can’t

read.”

A spurt of anger shot through him. He was accepting her even though she was a therapist. Why the hell

wouldn’t she accept him? “Lass, we were having a grand time, joking and laughing. Ye doona need special

abilities to recognize how happy we were.”

Her eyes glimmered with tears. “I enjoyed it, too. But I can’t have a relationship with someone I can’t trust.”

Of all the complaints to lodge against him, this had to be the absolute worst. “Ye—ye think I canna be
trusted

?” His voice rose to a shout.

Her eyes widened. She moved closer to the grape arbor.

“Bloody hell.” He paced away, fighting to control his anger, but it was obvious that he was pissed. She

grabbed hold of the cricket bat.

“Lass, I willna hurt you.” Damn it to hell. First he’d insulted her, and now he was frightening her. There was no

help for it. He would have to explain. Otherwise she would never understand. “I dinna want to tell you this, but…I

was in battle one night with the enemy. And I was captured.”

She drew in a quick breath.

He looked away, ashamed to admit he’d been a victim. “They wanted information about my comrades. When I

refused to talk, they…tortured me. For two nights.”

The bat she was holding fell onto the tile floor with a clatter.

He turned to her. “I told them
nothing
. I wouldna betray my friends. They burned me, cut me, broke my fingers,

shattered my feet—”

She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, but a strangled whimper escaped.

He stepped toward her. “I dinna betray my friends. I prayed for death so I wouldna betray them.”

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed.

“I doona want yer pity, lass.”

“But I
am
sorry.”

“Bloody hell, I dinna want to tell you.” He paced away. “Now ye’ll look at me like some poor weakling who was

fool enough to get captured—”

“No.” She stepped toward him. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

He groaned. There she went with the therapy. “Olivia, I only told you so ye’d understand how much I value

loyalty. I would rather die than betray my friends and family. Ye’d be hard pressed to find any man in the world as

trustworthy as I.”

Her mouth curled up. “Or as modest.”

He smiled. “There, ye see. Ye read me quite well, so I doona think ye need yer special powers with me.”

She hooked a curly tendril behind an ear. “Maybe. I don’t know. This is so…strange.”

“Ye can trust me, lass. May I see you tomorrow night?”

Her eyes met his with a searching glance. The lust he’d battled all evening returned at full force. He stuffed

his fists into the pockets of his hoodie to keep from grabbing her. Lord Almighty, he wanted to kiss away her

doubts.

His gaze dropped to her pink mouth. So soft and sweet. Everything was slowly becoming tinted with pink,

which could only mean his eyes were turning red. A sure sign that he desperately wanted her. She licked her

lips, and he closed his eyes, praying for control.

“All right,” she whispered.

Thank God. He opened his eyes and found her gaze drifting over his body. She wanted him. He didn’t need

any empathic powers to feel the heat coming from her. He could hear her heart pounding. Maybe he could steal

a kiss after all. He stepped toward her, lowering his gaze to her feet so his red glowing eyes wouldn’t frighten

her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned and dashed into the house.

He took a deep breath to calm his raging lust. “Olivia,” he whispered, simply because he liked hearing it. He

liked the way it rolled off his tongue. She was so beautiful. Unique. Worth fighting for every step of the way.

His eyes slowly returned to normal, and he headed toward the stairs with a growing sense of triumph. She’d

tried to reject him, but he’d persevered and emerged victorious. Fate was on his side after all.

By the time he reached the beach, Robby was grinning. He’d see her again. Flirt again. Laugh again.

Life was good. He’d found Olivia.

“I thought you’d never get up.” Eleni Sotiris frowned when her granddaughter wandered into the kitchen shortly

before eleven the next morning. “Are you still not sleeping well?”

“No, ’fraid not.” Olivia yawned. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, replaying her meeting with

Robby MacKay over and over in her mind. And after re-creating the scene faithfully a dozen times, she’d started

fantasizing alternative endings. What if she’d let him kiss her?

fantasizing alternative endings. What if she’d let him kiss her?

She fixed a cup of hot tea while her grandmother sat at the table chopping an onion into tiny bits.

Eleni scraped the onions into a mixing bowl filled with ground meat. “Are you still worried about that bad

man? You never told me about him.”

“It’s not him.” That was one good thing about Robby MacKay. He’d completely taken her mind off Otis Crump.

Olivia peered at the contents in the mixing bowl. “Is that hamburger?”

“A little beef, a little lamb. Some tabouli.” Eleni peeled some cloves of garlic. “Don’t you recognize the stuffing

for dolmades?”

Olivia sat across from her grandmother and sipped some tea. She could lie, but her grandmother would

know. “I guess not.”

Eleni gave her a worried look. “You remember how to make dolmades, don’t you?”

“Not really.” It had been years since she had tried stuffing grape leaves. Her attempts had always turned out

messy and lopsided.

Her grandmother clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she chopped garlic. “How will you make a proper

Greek wife if you don’t know how to cook? What have you been doing with yourself?”

“I went to college. Got a master’s degree. Went to Quantico for training. Been chasing down bad guys.” She

gave her grandmother a wry look. “You know, the usual girly stuff.”

Eleni’s mouth twitched. “It’ll take a special husband to keep up with you.”

Olivia’s thoughts immediately snapped to Robby MacKay. He was definitely special. She’d tried to scare him

away, but he’d refused to give up on her.

Eleni scraped the minced garlic into the mixing bowl. “I need some fresh parsley.” She grabbed a pair of

scissors and headed out the back door to the patio.

Olivia sipped her tea and noted that the red rosebud had opened. After Robby had left, she’d returned it to the

vase on the kitchen table. Its sweet scent competed with the onions and garlic of Yia Yia’s cooking.

She wondered how long the rose could last. And how long a relationship with Robby could last. In two weeks

she’d be accompanying her grandmother to Houston for the Christmas holidays. And then she’d be returning to

her job in Kansas City. It seemed highly doubtful that she’d ever see Robby again once she left Patmos.

She sighed. Why should she let it bother her? The relationship was doomed anyway. She could never get

involved with a man she couldn’t read. She would never know if he was being completely truthful.

Still, there were a few facts she could believe. One, he was extremely handsome. Two, she was hopelessly

attracted to him. She felt fairly certain that his story was honest. He was a soldier who’d been captured and

tortured for two days. That sent a shudder down her spine.

Could he have made up the story to gain her sympathy? Yes. But his reluctance to tell her had seemed real.

And the pain in his eyes had seemed real. Too bad there was no computer or Internet at Yia Yia’s house so she

could run a check on him.

She was tempted to believe him. She wanted to believe him. If he’d really survived being tortured, it explained

a lot: his reluctance to admit that he’d been traumatized. His tendency to be suspicious and paranoid.

It wasn’t surprising that his family wanted him to see a therapist. And it wasn’t surprising that he’d be averse

to it. Who would want to relive such an experience? No doubt a big, strong guy like Robby found it humiliating to

admit he’d been victimized and totally helpless.

With a gulp, Olivia realized his physical wounds might have healed, but the wound to his pride was still raw.

She’d smacked his pride badly when she’d implied he couldn’t be trusted.

Eleni marched back into the kitchen with a bouquet of parsley clutched in her hand. “We’re having dolmades,

spanakopita, lamb, and salad for dinner. I’ll need your help.” She rinsed off the parsley in the kitchen sink.

Olivia winced. She had a bad feeling about this. “That seems like a lot of food just for the two of us.”

Eleni sat across from her and chopped the parsley. “I invited Spiro for dinner. Dolmades are his favorite.”

Olivia groaned. “Does he speak English?”

“A few words.” Eleni added the chopped parsley to the mixing bowl. “I can tell you’re annoyed with me, but

don’t worry. The language of love doesn’t need words.”

Olivia snorted, then sipped some tea. She doubted it would do any good to complain.

Eleni dug her hands into the mixing bowl to combine all the ingredients. “We’ll be busy for a few hours. Why

don’t you tell me about the bad man who’s got you so worried?”

Olivia sighed. “He can’t bother me here.” She hoped. “He’s in prison.”

“Prison? What did he do?”

“He raped and murdered thirteen women.”

Eleni made a sound of disgust. “I don’t know how you can deal with such terrible people.”

Otis Crump was more than terrible. Olivia interviewed lots of criminals, but she’d never felt like she’d come

face-to-face with evil incarnate until she’d met Otis. “I’d rather not talk about him.” She didn’t want her

grandmother exposed to all the gruesome details.

Eleni shook her head, making tsking noises as she readied the grape leaves. “All right. Now you watch, so

you’ll know how to do it.” She spooned a dollop of the meat mixture onto a grape leaf, folded over the stem, then

the sides, and rolled it up.

Olivia wanted to shove all thoughts of Otis out of her mind, so she took the rose from the vase and held it up

to her nose. The scent filled her head, reminding her of Robby.

“You’re not watching me,” Eleni admonished her. Her eyes narrowed. “Your emotions have suddenly changed

for the better.”

for the better.”

Olivia smiled as she stroked the velvet rose petals. “Last night I met the guy who left this.”

“Your secret admirer? Who is he?”

“His name is Robert Alexander MacKay. Robby for short.”

Eleni looked confused. “He doesn’t sound Greek.”

“He’s Scottish.” When her grandmother gave her a blank look, she elaborated. “You know, Scotland? Plaid

kilts and bagpipes?”

Eleni pursed her lips. “He’s from an island?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Then he can’t be too bad.” She rolled another grape leaf. “Did he come here? Why didn’t I meet him?”

“It was after midnight. You were asleep.”

“Why so late? Is he some kind of smuggler?”

“No. He jogs at night. I saw him the first night I was here. And he saw me. From a distance. We didn’t talk.

Then the next night, he left this rose.”

“Hmm.” Eleni frowned as she stuffed another grape leaf. “And you talked to him last night?”

“Yes. In the courtyard.”

“He didn’t try any nonsense, did he?”

“No. He seemed…really nice.” Olivia returned the rose to the vase. “He told me I was brave and beautiful, just

like Grandpa told you.”

“That’s good.” Eleni tilted her head. “Now I’m sensing worry and fear. What’s wrong?”

Olivia took her teacup to the sink and rinsed it out. She knew her emotions were waffling back and forth. One