Page 33 of The Devil and I
I wander through the apartment quickly, taking in the vast emptiness around me. To be honest, it feels better to enter this space without having to look at the things I once owned. Coming in and seeing things exactly as I left them would be far too difficult, because I am not the same person that stood in this apartment the last time I was here. I don't want to be the broken girl that lived a life of nightmares, fear and loneliness. I want to be the girl that lives in the quiet forest home, naming the birds that frequent my backyard and building a relationship with the man that saved my life.
Walking back towards the front door, I peer outside to see Lucas paying the mover for his team's work today. I watch them for a moment, before a breeze sweeps in through the door and rustles something on the floor. I turn my attention to the wall, dropping my gaze until I see a small white note fluttering along the baseboard with the breeze.
The note.
My breath catches, trapped in the prison of my lungs, as I watch the note twist and turn, until it flips over and reveals the words that drove me to suicide almost two weeks ago.
See you soon.
I force the air out of my lungs, the sound obnoxiously loud but very necessary. No, he won't see me soon. Mark is dead, and I won't ever feel his ruinous hands on my body again.
I reach down and grab the note, picking it up between two trembling fingers as though it's a poisonous flower capable of destroying everything it touches. I turn my back to the front door, my eyes locked on the note in my hand as I focus on steadying my breathing.
I don't know how much time passes as I stand there and confront the feelings this note creates within me, but I assume several minutes have passed because Lucas calls my name as he steps up behind me.
I can feel the heat of him at my back, the shadow of his big body looming over me is a comforting presence. I move to drop my hand, instinctively wanting to hide the note from him, but he doesn't allow it.
Lucas steps into me, the hard expanse of his torso pressing along my back as his hand lifts to grip my forearm. He pulls something from his pocket as he takes the note from my fingers, holding it out in front of me as his mouth lowers to plant gentle kisses against my neck. I sigh deeply as his warm lips trail up the column of my throat towards my ear, his free hand lifting to reveal a lighter he pulled from his pocket.
“I'll never let anyone hurt you again,” he promises, flicking the lighter to ignite the small flame. “You're safe with me. Only good things from here on out.”
I watch as he brings the flickering flame to the small, frail sheet of off-white paper, until the heat of it begins to blacken and curl the edges. I watch, enthralled, as the note catches fire. The beautiful flame licks along the paper, destroying it as it moves, but Lucas doesn't let it go. Even when the heat of the flame reaches his fingers, he holds on.
My heart beats faster as I watch Lucas endure the fire, knowing that he is going to blister if he doesn't let it go. I want him to let it go, but he doesn't. He holds it until the only remaining paper left it what is pinched between his fingertips. Only then does he let it go, and we watch together as the last piece of the note turns to ash on its descent towards the ground.
It's gone. Just like the man that made me want to die.
I turn in Lucas's embrace and crush myself against him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. He returns the hug with just as much force before lifting me up to carry me out of the empty apartment. His arms anchor me to him as I wrap my legs around his waist, burying my face against the warmth of his neck.
As Lucas carries us down the small set of steps, back to his cruiser, I lose myself in the cinnamon and woodsmoke scent of him. I let it invade my nostrils and chase away the dark memories trying to take hold of me. Between his soothing scent and his strong arms wrapped around me, I feel myself letting go of the anxiety and negativity associated with my past.
I hold on tight as he opens the car door and settles me into the passenger seat, even taking the time to buckle me in. I don't look back at my apartment building, there's no point in that now. I look forward, back in the direction of my new home. With the few boxes I've kept loaded into the back of the vehicle, Lucas joins me inside the car and starts it up.
His leans over slightly and grabs my hand, our fingers intertwining, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze as we take off in the direction of home.
Home.
I never had a home until now. I always thought home was a place you went back to at day's end, a place to store your things and spend your free time. I know better now. Home is not a place. Home is a person.
Lucas is my home. Every dark and twisted corridor of his mind. His skilled hands that can kill the man that broke me, then turn around and nurse my physical and mental wounds with the utmost care. That gorgeous, powerful body of his that can bring me immense pleasure, and at the same time keep the other monsters at bay. Home is in his possessive, obsessive devotion to me and the way he always vows to keep us together come hell or high water.
Home is the way he loves me unapologetically, and home is the reason I am no longer a broken, dying girl. It's just him and me now, and the beautiful future he promises.
He is the only home I'll ever need.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Rayna
“Then run, baby. I'll even give you a head start.”
His voice is a low rumble, traveling across the short distance between us. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to ward off the chill from outside. My bare feet shift nervously on the floor, something deep inside of me trying to warn me against playing this dangerous game.
It's one thing to roleplay in the bedroom, it's another thing entirely to make the decision to play the game for real. Lucas always promised me he would never let me run from him, from us, and every time I'd tease him during sex, it always seemed to flip a switch and bring his inner devil to the surface.
The sex that followed was exactly what I wanted and needed. It always became a violent claiming that ending in him finding some place on my body where he could bite down until he drew blood. He loved to mark me, to leave notes on my body written by his teeth. The whole world needed to know I belonged to Lucas Black, and the truth of it satisfied us both in ways nothing else could.
