Creatus Series Boxed Set

by Carmen DeSousa

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kris staggered down the stairwell of the apartment building, cursing aloud for what her life had become. Just twenty-two and she’d poisoned her body so many times she hardly even recognized herself.

  A stale stench of sweat and liquor assaulted her senses, causing her stomach to lurch, compelling her to escape the dilapidated structure. The rusty railing swayed beneath her grip, giving her minimal support as she descended the stairs. As soon as she stepped onto the street, she inhaled a deep breath, trying to rid herself of the rancid smell. The smell persisted, which meant it was on her. Sadly, she wasn’t sure if the odor belonged to the stranger whom she’d spent the last few hours dodging sexual advances or if she smelled like the walking dead. How had she let herself become such trash?

  “Why did you save me?” she screamed into the black void, similar to her life. She hadn’t asked him to save her when she was eight years old.

  As always, no one answered her ridiculous peal, which was probably just as well. Attracting attention in this part of town wasn’t smart. She clicked the key fob for her Grand Am as she scanned the street. She barely even remembered driving here after she left the nightclub.

  The problem with drinking too much, which she did far too often these days, was that as her inhibitions fell, so did her standards. The man from the bar had been cute, but he’d obviously wanted something other than money in exchange for a hit. What else should she expect when she followed a man home whose name she couldn’t even remember.

  She hadn’t planned to go home with a stranger. But when he’d suggested they could get high together, it had sounded like fun, a chance to escape her nightmares and her empty apartment. A chance to do anything but feel the pain she endured by her guilt every time she closed her eyes.

  Kris strained to hear the chirp from her vehicle as she weaved along the sidewalk. Her heels lodged into the cracks in the concrete, causing her to trip several times. Somerville was such a dump. She should have used the money from selling her mother’s jewelry six years ago on eBay and moved to California. Instead, she’d stayed in this frigid, run-down suburb of Boston. But she knew why she hadn’t. She was afraid if she left, she’d never see her protector again. A day didn’t go by that she didn’t get an eerie feeling that someone was watching her.

  Out of nowhere, a chill would travel the length of her spine she’d swear was her Dark Angel’s breath on her neck. But every time she turned around, no one was there. So instead of escaping, she’d used the money to buy a P.O.S. car and drugs and started on her debauched journey. She knew she was better than the life she’d been living, but every night she found the answers no one offered her at the bottom of a bottle.

  Sometimes she wished her Dark Angel hadn’t saved her. If he didn’t care, why had he bothered?

  Not once, but twice.

  She was beginning to think she’d conjured up his image to erase the guilt of her mother’s death. Her Dark Angel, as she called him since she had no name for the handsome stranger, had accosted a degenerate who’d attacked her mother and her when she was eight, allowing her to escape. Unfortunately, her mother had still died.

  When she was sixteen, he’d rescued her a second time. She’d been so excited to go to her first college frat party, but her date had laced her drink with some type of date-rape drug. Seconds after he’d helped her outside to get fresh air, he’d ripped at her clothes. When she’d refused, smacking his hand away, the college sophomore had turned aggressive. He’d smashed her head against a brick wall of the dorm, slamming his hand over her mouth. He would have raped her, and she wouldn’t have been able to stop him. The drugs he’d given her made it impossible to stand, let alone thwart off his attack.

  But again, out of nowhere, she’d felt the warm embrace of her Dark Angel’s arms after he tore the loser off her, the same way he’d wrenched the thief away from her mother. His mysteriously ebony-colored eyes had gazed into hers as he’d whisked her away. His deep, melodic voice had whispered that she’d be okay. The same aspects she’d distinctly remembered about him when she was eight. But then he’d disappeared again after depositing her inside her vehicle, ordering her to lock the doors until her best friend came out to the car.

  She’d never told anyone about him. Not even her best friend.

  Beth would have said, “Dark, mysterious stranger who watches over you… yeah, right!” It did sound preposterous and melodramatically romantic, so it couldn’t possibly be true. But no matter how many times her brain tried to convince her he didn’t exist, her heart refused to listen. He’d protected her for a reason, she was certain. Though sometimes, Kris wished her Dark Angel had allowed the thief in the alley to kill her too, saving her from a life of loneliness.

  The sun hadn’t come up yet, but the hue of the horizon was fading from a deep navy to a lighter shade of violet. Another beautiful spring day she’d spend sleeping off a massive hangover she felt making its way to the surface. Another day she wouldn’t make it to work, and this time they’d fire her. Her boss had made that crystal clear last time.

  Another sharp odor hit her senses, knocking her backward a few steps, stumbling again. The pungent scent of rotting vegetables instantly transported her to the night of her mother’s death. For years, she’d been unable to keep fruit for more than a day in her apartment because the scent brought back the painful memories. But this time, it felt as if she were actually there again, as if the scent had literally transported her to that horrible moment when she lost everything.

  Kris took a moment to survey the alley where the reek emanated. Her eyes raked over the faded red brick, a flickering sign at the end, and a dumpster overflowing with garbage from the mom-and-pop grocery store, the source of the insulting pong. Sucking in a breath, she almost retched as the memory hit her fully.

  Oh, God! She was in the same alley where her mother had been murdered.

  Shaking her head to dislodge the painful recollection, Kris tottered in her high heels. The rough texture of the wall dug into her skin, reinforcing the memory. The image of the thief’s face flashed in her head. Even before he’d plunged the knife into her mother’s chest, she’d detected the murderous gleam in his eyes.

  Nothing would obliterate the memory of him shoving them against that decaying building, the glint of the knife as he’d wielded it erratically. The blood—so much blood. Her mother’s blood.

  Kris whipped her gaze to the rooftops, knowing her Dark Angel was watching her, knowing he was always close by. “You were there,” she cried. “I don’t know who or what you are, but I want to know why you didn’t save my mother?” She gasped out a breath, attempting to contain her cries. “And why you left me alone!”

  No matter what she wanted to believe, the memory was real. She hadn’t imagined him coming off the building, landing in front of her with a soft thump, the sliver of light from the street revealing he was much larger than the guy who’d attacked them. Nor had she dreamt up the anguished scream that had escaped his throat as he tore the thug off her mother, the crack of the degenerate’s skull as he slammed him into the concrete.

  As they’d tried to get away, her mother collapsed in her arms. She’d pleaded for the angel to help her. But he’d just stared from where he squatted by the thug, his dark eyes focusing on her as though he recognized her, and said, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do to save her.” She’d blinked the tears out of her eyes, and he was gone. Kris had buckled in the dark alley, crying over her only parent’s lifeless body until the police arrived.

  She’d hated him for protecting her but not her mother. Since her mother had never told anyone her father’s name and no relatives had claimed her, she’d spent the next ten years of her life in a different foster home every six months or so. Every time she’d gotten into trouble or the couple was able to adopt a newborn, they had tossed her back to the state, and the state pitched her right into another unloving home.

  Realizing her Dark Angel wouldn’t show unless her life was
in danger, Kris yanked off her shoes and started running down the walkway. The icy pavement burned her feet, as if she were running on coals, and the uneven surface caused her to stub her toes. But she had to escape the rancid memory of her mother’s death, and she had to force him out of the shadows.

  “Where are you?” she shouted, deciding that maybe she did want to attract the wrong kind of attention. Again, no one answered. Figures, she thought. No thieves or rapists around when you need one.

  She pressed the button on her key fob frantically, spinning in the street, her arm raised high as she checked every direction, desperate to find her car. Finally hearing the chirp, she careened toward her vehicle. After fumbling with the door handle, she slumped in the seat, her head sinking against the steering wheel.

  “Why did you save me?” she blubbered again. “So I could drink myself to death?” Of course, her choices weren’t his fault. She’d just hoped that he would feel compelled to rescue her from her stupid decisions, like going outside with that college guy. He’d been right to call her ‘stupid girl’ as he carried her away.

  Kris examined her face in the rearview mirror, blanching at her reflection. Even with her creamy skin and golden blond hair, she looked old. Swirled and smeared lines of mascara streamed down her cheekbones, filling in the few creases on her face. She’d obviously been crying in her sleep again.

  She vaguely remembered the nightmare that had woken her a mere hour after she’d crashed on the stranger’s couch. She’d been attempting to save her mother, trying to grab the knife. The thief had stuck her this time, and she was happy. Happy she’d taken the punishment for asking to go out for ice cream that fateful night. The reward she’d received for making the honor roll was that her mother had died.

  Kris turned the key, and the engine whined in protest. Her car was obviously on its last leg too. When she reached the highway, she headed toward the Mystic River, specifically, the Tobin Bridge.

  It was time.

  She’d realized before that it was the only way, but now she was going to follow through with her decision. The jump itself wouldn’t do it. But from what she understood, it’d knock her out. Drowning was supposed to be a tranquil way to die, especially if you were unconscious. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen, but he’d left her no choice.

  She lifted her phone from her purse and called the one person who’d care. A pang of guilt shot through her. They hadn’t spoken much since graduation five years ago, but Beth had asked her to be her maid of honor. Beth was now a teacher at their old high school and a soon-to-be-married woman. It was ‘Facebook Official’, as Kris would have said a few years ago. Nowadays she couldn’t care less about social media, though. The only notifications she still received were Beth’s updates. They no longer shared common interests, but she was the one person Kris had ever felt a connection with. Well, except for her Dark Angel. Even though she couldn’t see him, she always felt him. Somehow, their souls had connected when he’d saved her. She just needed to get him to reveal himself.

  She’d done the rashest things in the last six years to force him into the open, but she’d never been desperate; she’d just been reckless. But no matter how many times she’d put herself in precarious situations, she’d never been attacked again. Maybe that was why she’d decided to kill herself slowly with drugs and alcohol, hoping he’d eventually save her from herself. Did he feel her pain now? she wondered. Would he stop her?

  Kris waited as the rings ceased and the message clicked on. “You know what to do,” Beth’s chipper voice came through the phone followed by a beep.

  “I love you, Beth,” Kris said calmly through fresh tears, attempting to suppress any audible cries. She didn’t want her friend to hurt in the event she was wrong. “I’m sorry. I really am. But know I’ll be happier wherever I am.” She clicked ‘end’ and tossed the phone on the seat.

  Kris drove her car onto the curb and climbed out onto the upper deck of the Tobin Bridge, the highest bridge in Massachusetts.

  “Are you going to let me do this?” she yelled into the darkness that engulfed her, wishing the sun would just come up already. “I’ve looked everywhere for you, and you refuse to show yourself.”

  Bitter March winds whipped at her hair and body, turning her pale skin into a checkerboard of red and white. She scrubbed at her arms with her hands to warm them. How stupid. If he was a figment of her imagination, or chose not to save her this time, she’d be drowning in the frigid water of the Mystic River in minutes.

  “If you exist, you’ll save me. I know you will. But if you don’t, I don’t want to live anyway.”

  As the sun’s rays peeked above the horizon, lighting the abyss below her, she inhaled a deep breath, closed her eyes, and jumped. The ice-cold air rising from the river below rushed by her as she plummeted. She didn’t scream; she didn’t look down. As much as she hated her life, she hoped it wouldn’t end this way. She’d really like to see him one more time.

  Her life didn’t flash before her eyes as she’d always heard. Just an image of her mother covered in blood and her Dark Angel telling her he was sorry. Those were obviously the only images she’d ingrained into her subconscious as important.

  As she hit the water, a second of crushing pain seized her body and then the world turned dark and cold, enveloping her into its chasm.

  “Breathe, dammit!”

  His deep voice penetrated her brain at the same time the sensation of a red-hot poker seared her shoulder. She gasped for air, but fire radiated through her chest as she attempted to inhale the cool air. She opened her eyes but couldn’t see the face above her, only a silhouette of a man. She recognized his voice, though. Her Dark Angel had come for her.

  The morning sun glared into her eyes, blinding her as she tilted her head to see him. As she lifted her hand to shield her face, a bolt of pain surged through her arm. “Oww…” she groaned.

  “You dislocated your shoulder and you may have a couple of cracked ribs, but you’ll live,” the deep voice she’d longed to hear for six years said.

  “I’m supposed to be dead,” she wheezed.

  He cupped the side of her face. “No, you’re not. You’re supposed to live, Kristina. For me. I just wanted a few more years, you stupid girl.”

  Remembering how he’d called her ‘stupid girl’ when she was sixteen, she tried to pull in a breath to protest, but it hurt too much. So she used what limited oxygen she had left in her lungs. “Stop… calling… stupid.”

  He spurted out a breath and stood, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in a minute. Try not to get into trouble.”

  Kris sealed her eyes shut, attempting to block out the sun as well as the throb in her shoulder, but then she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she was dead, because she could swear she’d just heard him say he’d be back.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Derrick leaned over Kristina, thankful she was still alive. Her eyes opened and she smiled. She had to be in pain, but she forced a smile anyway. His heart soared. He’d wanted to wait a few more years. But now that he was here, beside her, allowing her to see him, he had no idea how he’d waited as long as he had.

  He could have lost her. She could have died from that drop. He’d never believed for a second she would jump. She’d never indicated she was suicidal.

  He touched her face again, loving the way her soft skin felt beneath his palm, hating that he was going to have to hurt her to help her. “I’m not going to lie to you; this isn’t going to feel pleasant. I need to set your shoulder before I can move you.” He removed his leather belt and held it in front of her mouth. “Bite down on this.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed a bit, a flicker of fear lighting in her eyes, but she accepted the strap without uttering a word. Did she think he’d hurt her on purpose?

  Derrick bent her arm at a ninety-degree angle, rotating her arm and shoulder inward, toward her chest. She clenched her teeth together on the leather, restraining her cries, for which he was grateful. It would kill him to see he
r in agony. Slowly, he rotated her arm and shoulder outward, keeping her upper arm stationary, coaxing it back into the shoulder joint.

  She released her grip on the belt and exhaled in relief. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m a doctor.” He scooped her up carefully and moved her into his vehicle. They needed to talk, but they couldn’t remain here. Someone might have seen her jump, and they’d be calling the police.

  As if in shock, Kristina didn’t say anything else as he strapped her in the passenger seat. She just stared at him, her hazel eyes sparkling in the morning sunlight. Beautiful, mesmerizing, even though wisps of red lined the sclera. After grabbing a blanket out of the cargo area of his Navigator, he dropped behind the wheel and handed it to her. She accepted it without comment, wrapping it around her. He adjusted the temperature controls as he drove out of the parking space at the yacht club where he’d carried her up on shore. She still hadn’t spoken a word, so he drove off without explanation. Maybe she was in shock or ticked that he’d called her stupid. It’d been rude, he knew. But why in hell would she jump off a bridge?

  Feeling her gaze burning through him, he cast a glimpse in her direction.

  “You’re… real,” she finally sputtered, a quiver in her voice as she touched his arm. “You’re flesh and blood.”

  Huffing out a chuckle at her words, he attempted to contain the nervousness of her accusation, as if she’d discerned there was something unusual about him. He didn’t look any different from any other twenty-eight-year-old male.

  He’d always assumed that once they met, he could convince her that she’d been mistaken as a child when she told the police officer that her dark angel had saved her.

  “Of course I’m real,” he said, attempting to add enough conviction behind his words so she wouldn’t question him further. He proceeded over the Tobin Bridge and took the exit toward the park underneath the tall structure on Chelsea’s side of the Mystic River. After he pulled into a space, he turned to the young woman he’d waited fourteen years to meet. “We need to talk.”