Stained Protector

⸢Stained Protector⸥ Celia Crown Copyright © 2023 by Celia Crown All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences. Business Inquiries: Email — [ Stay Updated ] SIGN UP: MAILING LIST FACEBOOK: [HERE] — Contents ⸢Stained Protector⸥ Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Epilogue Author’s Other Works! Follow the Author ⸢Stained Protector⸥ by Celia Crown “You’re special, but don’t think you’re important enough for me to not hurt you.” When people start to disappear in Arizona, their vanishings overshadow the city, leaving residents crowding in populated places and demanding the cases be solved. Anya’s life gets more complicated than looking nearly identical to the victims. People have fears: spiders, height, thunder, or that relative who always nag about marriage and want to match you with a friend of a friend. Anya is afraid of Levi. A caring, soft-spoken man with calamity-cloaked blue eyes and a sequence of cursed ink above the strength twisted in his muscles. She has a reason to believe he’s the offender, because he nailed a 6’5, barrel-chested crook to the wall by the throat, while supporting a charismatic smile. Every time she’s in danger, he’s an armored silhouette behind fogged windows. His love is rich and consuming, like the iridescent colors to his canvas—yet also a coax of the crystalline sky and the ocean’s midnight zone. Chapter One Anya My neighbor is the feast to my paranoid heart. He wears kindness behind his smiles, but secrets drift through those muted blue eyes. His towering frame walks with history in his steps, an abyss of mysteries that can only be shown through his presence. Levi has the spark, a meek candle flame, of gentle killings. His name lingers in hallways like a vengeful ghost. Delinquents were put in place after they disrupted his art session. Neighbors carefully avoided mentioning him because he had the smile of a venomous snake. The building committee couldn’t see the fear in residents, but some had subtle gut feelings. None of it matters; many wholeheartedly believe he’s just an artist who keeps to himself. Women living on different floors hop onto mine, sauntering down the hall with their glammed-up appeals in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Levi’s very attractive. While he has a body that can shatter bones with a flick of his wrist, he is deemed a reserved man, albeit somewhat distant. He doesn’t socialize, often hunkering down in his apartment with faint whiffs of paint creeping into mine. And I can never forget his disheveled hair when he came out to toss the empty paint cans. It was Thanksgiving, and the building was bustling with joy and laughter. His apartment, like mine, was silent from the beginning until dusk. When his door opened, he wasn’t surprised to see me, as one might be coming across a neighbor, but he smiled so softly that the thought faded. We exchanged pleasantries, nothing too in-depth, yet I couldn’t stop the whispers of danger in the back of my head. It was irrational, but he provoked my instincts. Perhaps it was simply his wide shoulders, broad chest, and looming height—just menacing overall. So when I enter the apartment door after a long day at work, his face instantly flashes in front of my eyes. Things are moved, not more than an inch, but the changes are obvious to my thrashing heart. I stay near the shoe rack as a draft zaps through the open door when the video camera footage starts playing. Waiting for it to load has my nails digging into the silicone phone case, and my stomach churns with incensed anxiety as it replays yesterday’s footage. It ran out of storage space, so today wasn’t recorded. A quiet knock on the door disconnects me from reality, and the brief moment of utter blackness sears fear into my throat. My eyes water as my lungs gasp for air, sudden coughs shaking my body to its core. Someone’s voice is muffled as my ears continue to ring, but the concern and warmth offer a haven for my overwhelmed emotions. “What happened?” The bright yellow light casts a shadow over his head, and I squint through hot tears to see a blurry face. His height would've given him away if it weren’t for his voice. Levi has a deep baritone that sends chills down my spine. It’s a hypnotic, almost aesthetic piece of music. “I…” A small pestering shard of hesitation digs into my tongue. What if he broke in? It’d be stupid of me to ask him for help; he’d have a reason to say he was invited in and explain why his fingerprints were in my home. “Would you like a glass of water?” he asks, tilting his head toward his apartment. My body and intuition hold hands, a pair of star-crossed lovers destined to fall into the limbo of disaster. Neither side wins, not by a mile, and I know he sees the conflict on my face. As he holds a bag of groceries, his shadow creeps down to my neck while he steps back. There are mere inches between us, and I realize with dread that he could reach out to snap my neck before I’d sense danger. However, those dark blue eyes are mesmerizing, slowly summoning a trickle of courage to nod. A compulsion, a hungry need to capture the life in his eyes. I remember why I’m hesitant to get to know him. He’s a black hole; everything around him is bright and lively, but my attention is always drawn to his enigmatic and reassuring presence, as if he’s