Page 12 of The Devil and I
My superiors would lose their minds and fire me immediately if they knew I had access to all of our databases, both provincial and nationwide, from my home office. Everything I have access to right now is illegal outside of a police station, or my cruiser. It seems my minor obsession with hacking as a teenager paid off well in my extracurricular pursuits.
I start by firing up the main ID database, entering Rayna's full name and age to see what information I can find.
Rayna Archer. Age 20. Born on October 14.
No notable infractions. There are no mental health incidents and only one report, which has since gone cold. The report is short, detailing her home address and basic details, along with the name of the officer that answered the request for police support. It had been filed as a violent sexual assault that resulted in a hospital visit with physical damage to her body. Reading the report feels like taking repeated punches to my gut. Nearly unbearable.
The motherfucker beat her, leaving bruises on her body and abrasions on her genitals. She even had tearing in and around her anus. The reality of what was done to her hits me full force, making it difficult to breathe.
It takes all of my strength to force the air in and out of my lungs, steadying my breathing so that I don't draw Rayna's attention. The last thing I need is to have to explain why I am suddenly enraged when I don't want her to know I'm digging into her records.
I close my eyes momentarily to calm myself as best I can, and when I open them again, I let them wander over to the girl sitting by my window. She's idly sipping her tea while she slowly turns the pages of the book settled in her lap. I watch her for a while, trying to convince myself that she is here now, and she is safe. She's far away from the son of a bitch that raped her, and he won't ever lay a hand on her again. No one will.
Once my blood pressure drops, I turn my focus back to the monitor in front of me, silently promising not to smash it to pieces in a fit of rage as I pull up the full report. It goes cold fairly quickly, unfortunately, indicating at the end that the victim refused to provide further details on the assault. She kept insisting that she just wanted to go home. This left the assigned officer with no leads and no information to press charges with. Ms Archer did clarify that someone had raped her, and she would be requesting STD testing and a pregnancy test in the near future. Beyond that, she went silent as she struggled to keep herself together. With that, the report went cold.
I can't stop the sigh that rushes out of me as I lean back in my chair, lifting my eyes to Rayna again. She looks up from her book to meet my gaze, a wordless question lingering in her pretty brown eyes. “Just work stuff,” I tell her, running my hand across my face and through my hair. She frowns slightly, but nods and turns her attention back to the book.
I close the report and scan over her basic details again, absorbing everything I find, even though it isn't much. Once I've seen everything there is to see, I exit the database and pull up my browser and toss her name into the search engine to see what social media she maintains. Not surprisingly, I don't find much. Just a Facebook page that isn't super active. I quickly browse her friends list before looking through the lists of her friends, but find no “Mark” within any of it. I do a quick scan of her timeline for any mention of his name, but find nothing. I'm not positive, but I imagine this guy isn't a friend or relative. A stranger to her, or someone she met briefly, is the likely option here. I sit in silence for a while, contemplating the information I've gathered.
Knowing that I need the guy's last name to move forward, I close everything pertaining to my sweet girl down and pull up my legitimate work access to finish up reports from the last week. A couple domestic disturbances, a break in, and various civil complaints.
I lose track of time as I write, completing the reports from my last work shift. Getting all of this out of the way now means that I can put work on the back burner for the rest of my vacation. Peering at the time at the corner of my monitor, I acknowledge the late afternoon with a stretch and a yawn. Rayna sets her book down and mirrors me, turning her head to look out the window again.
“Are you up for watching a movie?” I ask her as I shut my computer down and rise from my chair. “I need to unwind a little from writing reports,” I explain with a brief chuckle. She nods and stands up, bringing the book and her tea mug with her. As she wanders over to set the book back in its place, I walk to the window and try to declutter my brain. I know I'll need to find out Mark's last name, but I have no intention of asking her right this second. I'll figure things out as we go.
“May I use the bathroom?” she asks as she makes her way back towards me.
“Of course. You know where it is,” I tell her as I brush a strand of dark hair out of her eyes, motioning towards the office door. She offers me a small smile as she exits, making her way back towards my bedroom. I'll need to re-dress her arm before bed and make sure she isn't fighting an infection.
I watch her until she disappears, then turn my attention back out the window. A few minutes pass, and eventually I hear the muffled sound of the toilet flushing. When she doesn't immediately return, I decide to go seek her out myself. As good as it sounds to curl up on the couch with her and find something scary to watch, I'm still harboring a lot of intense feelings and they are moving beneath my skin like a destructive parasite. Lust, rage, and my own brand of sickness coil within me and demand an outlet. Shit I need to expel if I'm going to act like a decent human being for the rest of the night.
Thankfully, I can think of the perfect outlet.
Chapter Nine
Rayna
My heart beats a staccato rhythm in the cage of my chest as Lucas's massive form appears in the door frame behind me. His gaze narrowed ever so slightly, like a predator watching his prey. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, his teeth dragging sensually along his lower lip as his chest expands on a deep inhale. His eyes are silver fire, harboring shadows I can't even begin to decipher. Something sinister hides there in the darkness of his eyes. And it should terrify me. It does the opposite, however. Everything about this enigmatic man makes me feel... safe and intensely coveted.
He moves towards me in silence, his powerful strides barely making any sound at all. Towering over me from behind, I let out a gentle gasp as I take in the difference in our sizes. He is impressively tall and built like a warrior, his body conditioned in a way that tells me he could tear me apart with very little effort. Laden in heavy muscle that mirrors the functional strength of an apex predator as opposed to a showy body builder. He makes me feel incredibly small and weak in comparison. The contrast is incredibly sexy.
My body is soft and curvy, where his is hard and imposing. My hourglass figure is not super model slim. My thighs are thick and my belly is softly rounded... I've got breasts and ass for days. I don't have the confidence most women do, but Lucas has a way of making me feel like I'm everything he's ever dreamed of. An erratic sigh suddenly flows from his sinful lips and he closes the last little bit of distance between us to stand pressed against my back. The heat of his body washes over me, softening any resistance my body may have wanted to feel in that moment. The warmth of him seeps into me, coaxing the fire deep in my belly to life all over again.
Watching his eyes devour me in the mirror, it makes me flush crimson at the feel of his cock resting hard against my ass. God, he is so big. I can't even begin to imagine that steely length sliding deep inside of me. The thought makes my entire face burn brighter as an ache settles itself between my thighs. I shift slightly to rub my thighs together, desperate to try and regain some semblance of control over my body. The movement isn't lost on Lucas.
His head bows low so that his lips can brush along the highly sensitive shell of my ear, puffs of hot breath escaping to entice shivers from my body. Suddenly, I am desperate for his hands on me. The feather light touches of his mouth at my neck are sending tendrils of need spiraling down deep inside of me to feed the fire growing there. His lips travel slowly down the column of my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind each and every tender kiss. It's alarming how gentle this beast of a man can be, and the divergence only makes the ache in my clit intensify. A whisper-soft sigh leaves me as he makes it down to my shoulder, his teeth grazing me and sending sparks of desire through me. I can hardly stand it. Never in my life have I felt arousal so powerful that it completely fogs my mind and nearly brings me to my knees.
Lost in the fog of lust, the abrupt, sharp pain of his teeth sinking into my neck makes my knees buckle beneath me. His arms are there to steady me, pressing me back against the hard wall of his torso. I whimper as his teeth release me, pressing a kiss to the reddened mark he has left on the surface of my pale skin.
“Please...” I moan airily, grinding my ass back against him, desperate for anything to dull the unbearable ache he has provoked at the junction of my thighs. The lust overwhelming me saps the strength right of out me, making me all the more susceptible to his absolute control over my body.
“Please, what?” he growls against my ear, the ocean-deep rumbling of his voice pulling another soft cry from my lips. His hands begin to roam my body, as if memorizing every curve and dip. The intensity of his gaze is locked on mine in the mirror, holding me prisoner in this moment that is unfolding between us. Forcing me to face every single thing he is making me feel, unable to run from the frighteningly powerful bond forming between us. “Tell me what you need, baby.”
“You,” I tell him, a little bit of frustration bleeding through my voice. “I need you.”
“Oh, you have me.” His hands travel up my ribcage until they settle over my breasts, gripping them possessively. One rough palm slides upwards until his fingers knead the sensitive peak of my hardened nipple through the shirt he gave me. I moan brokenly, the intense sensation shooting right down my body to influence the throbbing in my clit. Nobody has ever touched my body like this. I had no idea it could feel this damn good. He grinds the massive length of his dick into my backside, his free hand traveling up to grip my throat from the front like a man overcome by his hunger to possess me.
“I can't...” I whimper in the wake of his dominance, rubbing my thighs together, trying to soothe the pulsing need. The arousal is so overwhelming I feel like I am drowning in it. I don't know how to finish my sentence; I just know that I can't survive this tsunami of raw need crashing into me.
