Vacation with a Vampire & Other Immortals Read Online Free PDF Page A

happily, the ever-cheerful demeanor unaffected by the storm.
    Diego couldn’t say the same for his own—although his darkening mood wasn’t due to the storm itself, but to what it had carried to his beach. His haven.
    A woman. One of the Chosen. And not just any one, but this one. This woman he’d met during what he’d taken as a chance encounter two months ago. He’d gone into seclusion forty-five years ago because of a woman just like her. He’d taken refuge far from the reach of human or vampire. And yet, she had come.
    Hell, was history doomed to repeat itself—even here?
    “Far enough, Layla,” he said, releasing the dolphin and giving the animal a pat on the side even as it turned and swam away. His feet sank into the sandy sea-bottom, and he shifted the woman around to face him, carrying her as he strode up out of the waves, onto the beach and then along the winding and well-worn path through the forest to his cottage. His sanctuary. A place where only one other being had ever set foot, at least within his five-century-plus lifespan.
    Allowing someone else to visit the island had proven disastrous. He had sworn that no one ever would breech his sanctuary again. And yet, here she was. And there was not one thing he could do about it.

Chapter 4
     
    A nna struggled to open her eyes, but they seemed to resist her efforts. It was no surprise. She had a lot more trouble waking up, and a lot more trouble staying awake, lately. She seemed to be becoming almost nocturnal. The sun’s energy was just too much for her slowly weakening body, she supposed. Hadn’t Mary told her that would happen? The essence of nighttime was so much softer, easier to take. Even on the boat, she’d…
    The boat…
    Her sailboat!
    Her eyes flew open wide, and she sucked in a breath so sharply that it hurt her chest. Her arms flew out, hitting something that clattered to the floor, and she pushed herself upward all at once. And then, slowly, her wide-open eyes showed her that she was not in the ocean, fighting to keep her head above water, being battered by the waves and the storm. No. She was warm, and she was dry. The surface beneath her was soft, and the room around her, one of utter beauty and…peace.
    Odd, that she would think that, but that was what it felt like to her. Peace.
    The walls were red-brown wood, full of swirls and knots. There was a small cobblestone fireplace on one of them, with a rounded opening, and a glass screen in front. There were flames dancing and heat flowing. Huge windows lined the room, but they were all closed off now, by dark shutters from the outside. There were a few pieces of furniture, all apparently made of raw wood-slabs and coated in thick gleaming layers of shellac. Someone had attached legs to them to create tables, backs to create chairs, added cushions to some for relaxation. The one she rested on was a sort of fainting couch, she thought. She was lying on a brown plush pad, and matching pillows were tucked between her body and the wooden back, which was, she thought as she tugged one of the pillows aside, gorgeous. Hand carved to resemble the graceful body and long swooping neck of a swan.
    Sitting up slowly, she looked down to see that her hands were clutching a cream-colored blanket made of the same sort of fabric one would use to make a baby’s first teddy bear. So soft. And then she noticed the shirt she wore—it wasn’t her own. It was a man’s tank-style undershirt. White, ribbed. Her arms were bare. She lifted the blanket and saw she had on a pair of men’s boxer shorts.
    She tried to remember how she’d come to be here, who had rescued her from the storm-tossed sea that had devoured her beautiful sailboat. Her Spanish Angel? But for the life of her, she couldn’t recall anything more than waking in the water, struggling to keep her head above the surface, choking on the brine, and finally losing her battle. Peace had surrounded her as she had gone sinking down. And peace was