Page 11 of The Devil and I
“A-are you clean, by the way?” This probably wasn't where he was headed with his question, but this entire conversation has thrown me off completely. I start to ramble, a stupid habit of mine when I get too nervous. “I am. After... it happened, I got tested. I haven't been with anyone since.”
I groan inwardly and drop my head into my hands, feeling immensely embarrassed about dropping this conversation on him and being unable to handle it with grace. Lucas just keeps breathing, standing unnaturally still. He stays like that for a long moment, before he starts moving again. His hands continue prepping whatever meal he's decided to make for us. I sigh, relieved that the moment seems to have passed.
“I'm clean, Rayna. It's been awhile since I've slept with anyone, and I've been tested since then.” If he is still upset over the knowledge of my rape, he is hiding it pretty well. I want to get up and walk over to him, lay my hand on his shoulder and apologize for dropping that on him out of no where. Part of me, somewhere deep down, wanted him to know.
Regardless, I am glad we got that important stuff out of the way. Though, I realize I probably should have asked before I asked him to make me feel good last night. Things just moved so damn fast. The thought never even occurred to me. I'm not terribly experienced where sex is concerned, which makes this entire situation difficult for me to navigate.
I sit in silence as Lucas moves around the kitchen, mixing together something that looks a lot like pancake batter before dropping a batch into a skillet. It's nice to be able to sit back and observe him during a time he isn't so hyper-focused on me. It also gives me the opportunity to appreciate his tattoo – the thing really is a masterpiece. Albeit, a scary one.
Before I know it, he is making two plates with big fluffy pancakes situated on each one. He grabs a bottle of maple syrup and walks it over to the table. He sets it at the center then heads back to grab both plates. He sets one in front of me while taking his own seat next to me. The food looks and smells so good that my stomach aches in response. However, I can't bring myself to eat it. Despite my hunger, I'm struck with the most absurd feeling. A feeling that doing anything to keep myself alive is... counterproductive. I frown, wrapping my arms around my middle and staring at the food in front of me.
“Eat, Rayna. You need the calories.”
“I... I'm not hungry. I'm sorry,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. Even as the words leave my mouth, my body betrays me with a protest in the form of a rumbling belly. Lucas puts his fork down and watches me for a long moment before standing up and reaching for me. I gasp as he pulls me up and settles me in his lap, one arm wrapped around me while the other picks his fork back up. I watch him curiously as he cuts a piece of pancake, dips it into the syrup, and brings it up to my lips. His gaze is so intense, it's hard to hold it with my own.
“Open.” He presses the fluffy pancake gently against my lips, urging my mouth to part. His rumbling voice is authoritative, leaving no room for disobedience. It would be frightening if I wasn't perched on his lap like some sort of prized possession.
My lips part, the bottom one trembling ever so slightly. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Yes,” he replies simply, his eyes watching my mouth until the swallowing in my throat catches his attention briefly. “Good girl.”
The flavours are incredible. The pancake is so light and fluffy; it almost dissolves on my tongue. Paired with the rich syrup, the taste explodes in my mouth and is almost too intense after a day without eating. “This is really good,” I tell him softly before he brings another bite to my lips.
“I'm glad you like it.” His smile is boyish, like he is proud of his efforts in both cooking for me and getting me to eat it. It warms my heart and makes me feel guilty for hesitating to eat. I can't bring myself to explain anything to him, though. Not after the word vomit about my assault from earlier.
We sit like that in silence for a while as he feeds me bites of pancake, and when I can't eat anymore, he pulls my abandoned plate over for himself. As he gets through his food, the arm around me moves so he can rub small circles across my lower back. That small act of intimacy draws the tension from my body with every sure stroke, and I settle a little harder against his chest. It's not long before my eyes have drifted shut and my head is resting on his shoulder. His voice pulls me from my state of relaxation, but his hand doesn't stop trying to keep any tension at bay.
“I've got some work to do in my office, and I'd like you to join me.” he says gently in an effort not to startle me, and I sit up enough to look at him. I smile and nod, not knowing what the alternative would be to following him around his house like a lost puppy. Lucas essentially plucked me from the forest and deposited me in his house, without any belongings and no idea what to do with myself. It's a painful reminder that I'm supposed to be dead. “Can I get you some tea? I've got a comfy chair and a lot of books in my office for you to entertain yourself with.”
I smile again, because I love to read. Books have been my escape and my comfort in the recent dark times. “That sounds really nice, actually.” It's strange how much the prospect of going through someone's personal library excites me. “I love to read,” I tell him.
He smiles, and it hits my heart like cupid's arrow. He really is incredibly handsome. “That's great, because I've got a lot of books,” he tells me, shifting me to stand on my feet so he can wander over to the machine sitting on his counter. His kitchen is a mix of warm wood tones and dark accents, the perfect combination for a masculine space deep in the forests of Ontario. “I love to read, too,” he explains as he pulls a mug from the cabinet and drops a tea bag inside.
As my tea brews, he turns to lean against the counter to observe me. He runs a hand through his wayward black hair before crossing his arms. “What else do you like, Rayna? Do you have any other hobbies?” he asks, and I contemplate his question before shrugging shyly. It's not often anyone takes any interest in me as a person, considering I spend the majority of my time alone when I am not at work. Working at a library is a quiet endeavor, making it easy for me to avoid conversation beyond what is required of me as I stock the shelves and do a bunch of clerical work.
“When I am not at work, I like to read or go for a walk in the woods.” The irony of that revelation isn't lost on me, considering he found me trying to kill myself in my favourite place to go for a walk. “I also like to watch horror movies and take shelter dogs for walks,” I explain sheepishly, unsure how much he really wants to know. The sudden awkwardness I feel is soothed by the expression on his face, however. He seems genuinely curious, listening to me intently as the machine fills my mug with hot water.
“Horror movies are my favourite, too,” he says with a small smile before turning to grab my mug. He pushes off from the counter and makes his way over to me, gripping the mug of tea at the base so I can grab the handle. “Follow me,” he says, before exiting the room to head down the hall. I follow him, taking in each room as we pass it. At the end of the hall across from his bedroom, he pushes open a door that leads to his office.
I'm surprised by how large his office is, and the massive window on the left side of the room bathes the room in soft early afternoon light. Built into the wall beneath the massive window is a cozy sitting area that spans the width of it, with pillows and soft looking cushions. The perfect place to read, I realize with a content sigh. On the farthest wall from the door is a massive wooden shelving unit fully stocked with books. That leaves his desk opposite the window, facing out into the room so that he can enjoy the view with ample space beyond his desk.
“Wow. This room is amazing,” I tell him as I walk inside behind him, and he turns his head to offer me a smile.
“My favourite room in the house,” he confesses, moving to sit at his desk. “Feel free to grab a book and sit by the window.”
I walk over to the shelves and drag my fingertips along the ridges of the books, where they fit neatly together in rows. I skim through them until I find a title that sounds interesting and pull it free. Sipping my tea, I take the book and wander over to the window seating. When I sit, I am overwhelmed by the beauty outside. Densely packed trees like a wild emerald kingdom is the view this man gets to enjoy from his office, with bird feeders situated throughout the observable forest that bring colourful wings fluttering through the trees. Cardinals, blue jays, and tiny yellow birds flit around the feeders. The tell-tale sign of Autumn's arrival is present amid the greenery, yellowing some of the leaves throughout.
I smile to myself, sipping my tea and enjoying the secret world surrounding Lucas's home. Despite the horrors of my reality, it seems as though it would be effortless to get lost in this room between the books and the view. No wonder this is his favourite room in the house. If I could, I'd stay here forever.
Chapter Eight
Lucas
Seeing her face light up in my office makes me feel really damn good. This is the first time I've seen her like this, and it makes me want to keep that look on her face forever. I could watch her all day, sipping at the white mug in her small hands while she watches the birds bounce between my feeders. Having her in my home like this makes me feel more human. Watching this broken girl feel something other than misery gives me a sense of purpose. I could easily see myself devoting my entire life to making her feel everything good, and keep the negative shit away.
She deserves to feel good. She is sweet and shy and lights up over books and birds. The trust she has put in me shakes me all the way down to my usually rock steady core. She has this frailty to her that makes me want to keep her safe from the world. A frailty I imagine is the product of a difficult life, where people either hurt or somehow fail her.
My mind begins to race as I lean over to turn my computer on, trying to figure out how the hell to keep her here and make her fall in love with a monster like me. I don't feel in absolute control right now, and that is something I need to remedy immediately. For more control, I need information. The more information, the better. Having access to police databases is useful in situations like this.
