The Vampire and the Virgin

The Vampire and the Virgin by Kerrelyn Sparks Page A

Book: The Vampire and the Virgin by Kerrelyn Sparks Read Free Book Online
Authors: Kerrelyn Sparks
settled in her eyes.
    He touched her shoulder, but she was so far away, she didn’t seem aware of him. “Are ye all right, lass?”
    “I think so,” she whispered. “He can’t find me here.”
    She shuddered, then gave Robby an apologetic look. “It’s nothing. I’d rather not talk about it.”
    “Ah.” He recalled her words from the night before. “I’ve recently heard from an expert that repression can lead
    to serious side effects down the road. It can even affect yer physical health.”
    Her eyes narrowed with warning.
    His mouth twitched. “Perhaps ye should see a therapist.”
    She punched him lightly on the arm.
    “Och.” He rubbed his arm. “I’ve been traumatized.”
    She scoffed. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll do therapy for both of us.”
    “I’d rather ye hit me again.”
    She gave him a playful shove. “It won’t hurt. It’s just a few questions, and you don’t have to answer out loud.”
    “Then ye canna know if I’ve answered.”
    “You don’t have to answer. Just think about it.” She crossed her arms over her cream-colored jumper. “When I
    was interviewing criminals for my master’s, I came up with a list of questions to figure out what makes them
    “Ye want to interrogate me like a criminal?”
    She looked annoyed. “Let me finish. I discovered the average criminal doesn’t have the patience to answer a
    long list of questions, especially if there’s nothing in it for him. So I pared it down to three questions. Just three.”
    “Let me guess.” He stepped closer. “What’s your favorite color?”
    She shook her head, smiling. “Green. Like your eyes.”
    His heart expanded. “I like yer eyes, too.”
    She blushed. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to distract me.”
    “I’ll have to try harder.” He touched her cheek.
    She stepped back. “Question number one: what do you want more than anything in the world?”
    That was easy. Revenge. “Next question?”
    Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re already done?”
    “Aye. I know what I want.”
    She cocked her head, studying him. “It must be very important to you.”
    “It is. How did ye answer the question?”
    A hint of a smile played on her lips. “If you’re not telling, neither am I.”
    “Saucy wench,” he muttered.
    Her smile widened. “Question number two: what scares you more than anything in the world?”
    Failure to get revenge . “Done.”
    “That was fast.”
    “Aye.” He would have revenge on the bastards who had tortured him. They would pay for every blow, every
    burn, every break of his bones.
    “Okay, then,” she continued. “The last question refers back to the first one about what you want more than
    anything. If you succeed, will it make you a better person?”
    He stiffened with a quick intake of air. Bloody hell. He turned and stared at the sea. He didn’t want to think
    He stiffened with a quick intake of air. Bloody hell. He turned and stared at the sea. He didn’t want to think
    about this. He knew his plans weren’t an eye for an eye. They hadn’t killed him, yet he fully intended to kill them.
    And what’s more—he intended to enjoy it.
    Would it make him a better person? He closed his eyes briefly. It didn’t matter. They deserved to die. They
    were evil, and the world would be better off without them.
    He curled his hands into fists. He needed revenge. It gave him purpose. It had incited him to recover
    physically. With every step he jogged, every weight he lifted, he envisioned himself getting revenge. Killing
    Casimir. Killing all the Malcontents who had tortured him, who had watched his pain and humiliation. They all
    had to die.
    Would it make him a better person? With a groan, he relaxed his hands. No .
    “Robby?” She touched his arm. “Are you all right?”
    He turned to look at her, examine her, memorize every lovely inch of her face. How could she reach so deep
    inside him? She made him see things he didn’t want to see.

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