Creatus (Creatus Series) (5 page)

For some reason, she had to break the spell. As good as it was, she felt possessed. “Derrick,” she spoke his name under his warm and moist lips. Not wanting to stop, but wanting to maintain control.

“Yes,” he asked, his kisses trailing across her cheekbones.

Her mind almost felt free from his enchantment. Though, somehow, she knew she’d never be free. She’d always been his. “What took you so long?”

“I’m here now.” Capturing her mouth once again, he kissed her deeply with a passion she’d never felt.

Not that she’d dated much, but even the few boyfriends she had hadn’t made her skin heat, her heart pulse, and her soul long to be possessed. Sexual activity had always been about power with her. About what she could obtain. For the first time in her life, she wanted to give. And she didn’t even know him. Yes she did, she refuted herself. He was her Dark Angel, and in some ways, she had a feeling he understood her better than anyone ever had.

Derrick released his hold and Kris wilted against the arm of the couch. “Okay. I believe you. You’re obviously real.”

He laughed. “As are you. Funny. Beautiful. Real. I want to add more, but I don’t want you to think I’m a sap.”

She sighed as she met his warm gaze. She didn’t need a week; heck
, she didn’t need a day to decide. She’d been waiting her entire life for him, but she’d play his game she decided. “I don’t think you’re a sap.”

“Good! So
… what do you want to do today?” He’d sat up and changed the subject as if flipping a switch.

Had he not felt the same passion she had?
she wondered. Evidently he’d been accustomed to the same kisses that had left her breathless. For some reason, this tidbit annoyed her, wondering what woman he’d been practicing with.

“Hmm
… I don’t know.” She leaned against the arm of the sofa, attempting to convey the same relaxed, carefree attitude. “Whatever.”

He tilted his head a fraction as though
dumbfounded by her attitude that mimicked his. “How about we go to Quincy’s Market, stroll through downtown Boston, maybe the Aquarium?”

“Sounds like fun,” she offered in the most casual manner she could muster. Despite her irritation, it really did. She liked those types of days. Most guys suggested dinner and a movie. Boring. When a man proposed the movies on their first date—especially a chick-flick—it was usually their last.

Still irritated their kiss hadn’t meant anything to him, she stood to leave.

Derrick didn’t move an inch. Instead, he clutched her hand, directing her back down to the sofa. “After one more kiss, though. I don’t know how long
it’ll be before I can kiss you again, so we’d better make this one last all day.” He pressed his lips against hers again, opening her and exploring as if he hadn’t just been there minutes ago. He slipped his hand around her neck and through her hair, a low groan emanating from his throat as he drew his lips away a few inches. “We’d better go,” he murmured, but his lips found hers again. “So long,” he said under light kisses. He lifted her from the couch, his mouth still working its magic.

He finally pulled
away and Kris was happy to see that even with his olive skin, Derrick looked a little flushed.
That’s more like it
, she thought. She couldn’t be the only one swept off her feet. That wouldn’t make for a good start of a relationship. A thrill soared through her body at the thought. Yes, she was decided; she wanted a relationship with Derrick. And she was positive nothing would change her mind.

Chapter Five

Derrick headed east, away from Somerville, to catch the highway into Boston. “You know…” He looked at Kristina as he waited at the light. “We could head over to Broadway.”

She tilted her head. “Why? I like Downtown better than South Boston.”

“Do you know what today is?”

Kristina scrunched up her nose. “Yes...I’m not that out of it.”

“I mean the date. It’s the seventeenth… St. Patrick’s Day. There’s a parade.”

She laughed. “Oh… that’s okay. I did that last year. It was a strange collection. Other than the fact that there was a lot of green, I didn’t see how it had anything to do with St. Patrick’s Day. The funniest thing I saw was the Sith Lord—I think that’s what they’re called—and Darth Vader from Star Wars. What they had to do with St. Patty’s day is beyond me. Listening to him talk about ‘the force’ with a Boston accent cracked me up, though.”

He pressed on the gas pedal as the light changed to green. “I guess that would.”

“Hey… how come you don’t have an accent?” she inquired abruptly.

“I didn’t grow up here,” he answered simply.

“Where did you grow up?”

He glanced at her, determining whether to answer. He could answer, he decided. He just couldn’t give her details. “England.”

“Really?” She didn’t elaborate, so he hoped that would be the end of her query, but her ‘really’ hung out there as though she were thinking what to ask next. “So, why don’t you have an English accent, then?”

Bingo. He
’d presumed she wouldn’t leave it at that. Kristina was extremely inquisitive. “Umm… it’s a private school,” he offered as an explanation. “The professors… they’re all handpicked. They don’t have accents, so the students don’t have accents.”

“In other words, it’s another secret you can’t share,” she retorted.

“Yes.” He peeked at her and she was tilting her head, staring at him. Everything she did was endearing. “I’m sorry,” he offered, a pathetic apology, but it was for her safety. Everything he’d ever done was to keep her safe.

“Let me ask you a question you can answer, Derrick. How am I supposed to get to know you if you won’t answer any questions about yourself?”

He spurted out a half-laugh. “Fair question. How about we just enjoy this day? I’ll answer anything you want to ask tonight,” he rambled without thinking.

“Okay,” she agreed, though hesitantly as if she didn’t believe him. Actually, he didn’t know why he’d just said that. He couldn’t tell her everything tonight.

Their first stop was The Freedom Trail. Kristina listened in earnest as he spouted off his knowledge while they walked the 2.5-mile brick-lined route. Kristina, like him, was most interested in the Old North Church.

With its 191-foot steeple, it’d played a major role during the American Revolution. “Have you ever heard the saying,
One if by land, two if by sea
?”

Kristina nodded. “Vaguely. Something about a warning. Was that here?”

He rested his hand on the small of her back as he ushered her inside. “Haven’t you been here before?”

“Unbelievably, no. You would think growing up in Boston I would have. But it seems foster parents aren’t interested in that sort of stuff. And
I haven’t been thinking about America’s history in the last few years, as I’ve been too caught up in mine.” She ran her hand over the intricate white wood of the pew, her eyes darting around, absorbing everything. “I like the white and black. Some churches have such gaudy colors. I like simple.”

Derrick also loved the ancient architecture, the chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. He especially appreciated that all the glass was clear, giving the church a light and airy feeling, instead of a dark and gloomy one, which never made sense to him. Why would a church want to convey a depressing image instead of life? After all, wasn’t that what churches communicated, life everlasting? “I noticed you like simple. Your apartment. It’s nice, comfortable.”

“Yes. I always wanted to move someplace warm...” she trailed off, shaking her head as if changing her thoughts. “Remind me what ‘One if by land, two if by sea’ meant.”

“It was a signal. The Sons of Liberty had devised a plan to warn the countryside. You’ve heard of Paul Revere’s famous ride across the countryside.” She nodded. “Of course what most people don’t know was that there were three men riding, and Revere never finished. The Regulars, as they would have referred to them, detained Revere and William Dawes. Dr. Samuel Prescott was the only one to reach Concord and deliver the warning, and when the Regulars arrived, the Americans were ready.”

Kristina shook her head, chuckling quietly. “Well, thank you, professor.”

He shrugged. “You asked.”

“I didn’t expect a history lesson. I just think it’s pretty in here. Why do people care about what happened over two hundred years ago?”

“Two hundred years isn’t that long,” he demurred, strolling around the five-foot-high boxed pews. How strange to think that they segregated parishioners inside the church. Wealthier families’ boxes were closer to the front, of course. He sensed Kristina move up behind him. “Pretty, you say?” he asked, turning to her and resting his hands on her waist. She was so tiny he could practically wrap his hands around her waist, but then again, he did have big hands. “Did you know there are thirty-seven crypts below the church containing the remains of over a thousand former members?”

“Eww… really? Can we see them?”

He laughed. “If we
return and take the official tour, but all you see are the walled-up tombs.” Dropping a twenty in the donation box, he wrapped his arm around her waist and escorted her outside. “Come on. I’m getting hungry.”

“I was wondering about that. You haven’t eaten anything.”

Biting his tongue from responding, he glanced down at her. “Do you like oysters?”

“Love them!”

That was good, he thought. A woman who could eat oysters could understand his dietary needs; at least he hoped. “Let’s go eat.”

Though warmer than usual, the weather was perfect. It was seventy-two degrees, clear and sunny. Other than a few evergreens
that dotted the lawn of the park, the trees were mostly barren, with only a few sprouts visible. But it didn’t detract from the beauty of the wharf with sailboats moored one after another in the harbor, their predominantly blue and white sails rustling in the breeze. The constant squawk of the seabirds as they vied for scraps the tourist left behind filled the air with a vacation-like appeal. Sounds he’d remembered hearing as a child while chasing the white-winged fiends away from his lunch on Old Orchard Beach in Maine. The salty air laced with the hint of shellfish prickled his tongue, and his stomach growled in response.

Derrick handed his key
s to the valet, slipping the gentleman a healthy tip before glaring at him. “No smoking, no scratches, and I’ll be leaving it here a while. I’ll have another tip ready if you can manage that.” The man gulped, but nodded in acquiescence. He didn’t like to come off as a brute, but he hated to have his vehicle returned scratched, and he couldn’t stand cigarettes. Thank goodness Kristina didn’t smoke too. He wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. It was much easier to wean someone off alcohol than cigarettes.

He turned
to Kristina to escort her inside, but noticed her eyes were wide and round. She’d seen him when he’d been ready to kill. Had she forgotten, or had she conjured up a different memory of him? He winked and smiled, hoping her features would relax. It almost worked; she looked slightly relieved, but two little lines still creased the area between her eyebrows. He rushed to explain, “Last time I let a valet park my car, they returned my vehicle with a long scratch and the stench of cigarettes. I’m very sensitive to smells,” he added, hoping she wouldn’t read into his comment too much, but understand that he had a reason for his severe tone. The last thing he wanted was for Kristina to be afraid of him, even though she should be frightened, since he’d admitted that under certain circumstances members of his family would be willing to kill her. She should have run in fear at that moment, but that was his Kristina, brave to the core.

“Oh,” was all she said.

Craving her touch, Derrick held the crook of his arm out to her and she looped her smaller, daintier hands around his biceps, giving him a soft squeeze. He exhaled the breath he’d been holding in response, thankful she seemed comfortable with him.

The
y approached the four-story brick warehouse that had been an institution on Long Wharf for over forty years. The inside walls of the building dating back to the late 1700s continued the red brick of the outside while light from lanterns and lavish chandeliers highlighted the original broad wooden beams and floors. Black iron railings lined the stairwells and landings, adding to the historical appeal of the eatery.

It was quaint, but Derrick
motioned to the cast-iron tables with black umbrellas over top of them. “We can stay inside if you like, but it’s so beautiful outside. Would it be okay if we ate on the patio?”

“Sure,” Kristina agreed
in a hushed voice, too quiet. She’d been prattling away inside the vehicle on the drive here about the last time she’d been to the wharf. How she’d loved watching the harbor seals, since she couldn’t afford to go in the aquarium. She’d been so perky and excited only minutes ago, and then he had to frighten her. It wouldn’t have killed him if he’d gotten a scratch or had to deal with the smell of smoke.

Derrick
glanced down at Kristina as the host directed them to a table. Two days ago, she was dying under his hands and now she was on his arm. It felt surreal, and for a moment, he also wondered if it was real. The day had been going great; until he’d gone and offered that he’d tell her everything later and then practically growled at the valet, that is. Even though she didn’t seem uncomfortable touching him, he felt like a moron. He could only hope that his tiff wouldn’t fuel her alarm when he told her the truth.

He pulled out a chair for her to sit and then took a seat across from her. “I’m sorry, Kristina. I didn’t mean to be brash with the valet.”

She shrugged. “I’m okay,” she said in a soft whisper, leaning forward. “He just looked so scared that it sort of took me by surprise. I’ve never thought of you as scary; though, I guess I should have.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Kristina reached across the table and ran her fingertips across his hand, sending a thrill through his chest, and surprisingly, an ache in his heart.
It was already happening
, he thought. He’d been with women before. It shouldn’t be happening from a simple kiss. Of course, the kiss wasn’t simple. He’d tried to play if off, but it had unlocked something within him. And for some reason, he would have sworn that she had felt it too.

She tilted her head as if to get his attention, but waited to speak until he locked eyes with her. “I’m not afraid of you, Derrick.”

He nodded and turned his arm so he could take her hand in his. “Thank you.”

The waiter bounced over to the table. “Top of the day to you. Will you be starting off with a cocktail or beer?”

Derrick glanced up at the rail thin college kid with a white shirt and green bow tie. Ah, right. St. Patrick’s Day. “Water’s fine.”

“Umm...” Kristina looked over the menu and his eyes jolted to hers. Certainly she couldn’t be thinking
about drinking. It could kill her. She’d be able to drink again, but not after drying out in just two days. “Water for me too, please,” she finally answered, allowing him to relax.

“And two orders of oysters on the half-shell,” Derrick added before the waiter skipped off.

“Two?”

“I’m hungry.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“Were you thinking
about drinking?”

“Only fleetingly. I remember what you said. But I don’t need it. I know I drank a lot. Every night for the last
few years, in fact. But I’m pretty sure I’m not an alcoholic.”

“People often confuse ‘use’ with alcoholism,” he said. “They don’t understand that your body becomes reliant on it. It doesn’t mean you can’t ever drink again—if in fact you aren’t an alcoholic—but you need to wait.”

“I’m fine,” she said as a dismissal, glancing toward Long Wharf and then to the aquarium. Everywhere but him.

Derrick squeezed her hand to get her attention. “I won’t ask again.” Though he’d been her protector, he wasn’t her guardian. And he didn’t plan
to treat her as though he was, but he was still concerned for her health.

She
retracted her hand under the guise of unwrapping her silverware, but he could hear her irritation as she ground her teeth together. “So something else I remembered from the other day has been bothering me, Derrick. About how you always knew where I was. Something about tracking my cell phone?”

“I only did it when you didn’t come home
. It’s not as though I watched you every minute of your life. I do work,” he ground out, a bite in his voice that he had no right to utter. She had every right to be nervous. He softened his tone and tried again. “I’d just got in the habit of driving by your place. And if you didn’t come home, I looked for you.”