The Devil and I by Kay Alastor
Chapter Nineteen
Rayna
The early morning light pours in through the window and pulls me from sleep. When I open my eyes, I glance out the window and see clear blue skies overhead. It's bright, so it takes my eyes a few moments to adjust. The rain from yesterday made all the heavy greenery surrounding Lucas's home look even more vibrant today. It's a beautiful day.
I'm still laying across Lucas's chest, my arm draped over him. I don't want to move quite yet. The bed is so soft, and he is so warm. His bedroom is incredibly comfortable. I don't even mind the distinctly masculine feel of it.
Something sparkles in the corner of my eye, dazzling in the direct morning light. I stare down at my hand where it rests above Lucas's heart. It takes a few moments for my mind to register what I am seeing, and when I do, I can't help but gasp audibly. There, on my ring finger, is a pale band littered with diamonds of various sizes. At the center of the ring is one big, sparkling gem. I have never seen anything as beautiful as this ring in my entire life. My mind blanks out as I stare at it.
“Marry me,” Lucas tells me suddenly with that low, rumbling voice of his. I must have been in a state of shock because his deep and soothing voice startles me a little bit.
He says those two words like a command, like his statement is a fact I can't dispute. I gaze up at him, tears starting to gather at the edges of my eyes.
“You want to marry me?” I ask him, emotion causing my voice to crack as I hold back the tears threatening to spill. It really wasn't that long ago when I thought my life was over, and here Lucas was promising me a future I never even dreamed of.
“I will marry you,” he corrects, that signature arrogant grin of his making his mouth look sinful again. “I just want to be clear about what that ring means.”
I can't help but smile up at him, which causes those tears I've been holding back to fall from my eyes. “Oh, it's clear. I just... I wasn't expecting it.”
“I figured. I ordered the ring a few days ago, and it arrived yesterday,” he explains as he pulls me closer, planting a kiss on my forehead. “I hope you like it.”
For a moment, I don't even know what to say. I've never owned anything like this. I never felt I deserved it, especially growing up with parents that didn't like to spend money, and getting stuck with an uncle that straight up refused to. Any bit of money I made had to be used to pay for the things I needed, never for things I simply wanted.
“Lucas... it's... it's so beautiful. I can't believe how beautiful. It's looks like a ring a queen would wear.” I bring the band of stones closer, my eyes roaming over the many rainbow facets.
“You are a queen, Rayna. You're my queen.”
I let the tears fall, although they are quiet, because I know I am safe in this man's arms. I cry because I'm happy, and I never imagined happiness was in my future.
Lucas saved my life. He took my pain away and replaced it with everything good. Now, he is telling me that we will be spending the rest of our lives together. He will protect me, and he will love me, and he will give me a future I was never supposed to have. That is worth crying for.
***The drive into Toronto was quiet. I spent the majority of the ride gazing thoughtfully out of the window, trying to decipher the reason behind the anxiety surging inside of me. Turns out, I don't want to be in Toronto anymore. I don't want to go back to my apartment, nor do I want to collect my belongings.
My life before Lucas was dismal at best, and horrific at its worst. Perhaps it is a byproduct of the amalgamation of my mental illnesses, but the last thing I want is to bring my old life into the new one Lucas and I have been creating together in his secluded forest home. I like this new life of mine, and the idea of mixing it with my old existence feels a lot like sacrilege.
Thankfully, Lucas has been nothing but understanding and supportive. He noticed how quiet I had become and managed to pull the truth out of me like sucking poison from a wound. When I explained everything, he gave me his phone to call the movers and make new arrangements. The movers, who were paid handsomely, agreed to dispose of the majority of my belongings, leaving only a box of books, my laptop, my phone and my clothing. Everything else was currently being collected by a local junk removal company.
I still can't believe Lucas is real, or that he is mine at all. For all the darkness living inside of him, he is equal parts one of the most loving people I've ever met. Perhaps his previous endeavor to become a psychologist made him more empathetic and understanding, but I can't get over how willing he is to accommodate me. He truly seems happy to take care of me in ways that aren't exactly traditional.
One of my favourite things about him is the way he exists outside of society's preconceived notions of what a man should be. It's clear to me now why he created this noble police officer persona for the outside world. He has a lot of darkness in him that society would never tolerate, and he has done a lot of things that would land him a lifetime in prison. While I understand he is not a normal person, I can't exactly say I'm normal either. At the end of the day, society can make their demands on us and expect us to conform... but Lucas has no desire to appease the world. He and I exist together in our own little universe now, and I don't ever want to leave it.
I asked Lucas if we could take food home instead of eating at a restaurant, and he agreed without hesitation. I am grateful for that, because I don't feel quite ready to re-enter society. My arm is still bandaged and healing, and I still have a lot of things I need to work through.
As if he sensed my thoughts and emotions without me having to tell him, Lucas made an offer to connect me with an old friend of his that was working as a psychologist in a nearby city. Although he didn't have to, he reminded me I should talk as little about him as possible, to help keep him well under the radar. He didn't need to ask, because I would protect him with my life at this point, but I understood why he did.
However, when I explained I didn't have the funds to see anyone, he laughed. I was a breath away from being swamped by feelings of shame, but he quickly explained himself. Lucas apparently forgot to mention that he is independently wealthy thanks to some real estate investments, as well as investments in the stock market, and I wasn't expected to pay for anything anymore.
Of course, I protested. I was raised in an environment that if I wanted anything beyond necessities like food and housing, I'd have to work for it. I paid for everything I owned at this point, so it was a hard pill to swallow. Lucas wasn't lying when he told me he needed to be in control. He reminded me that since he was about to be my husband, that meant he would be taking care of all of my needs from here on out. He didn't leave any room for argument there.
As we drove along the quiet streets surrounding my apartment, Lucas slipped his hand between my thighs to rub small circles there. He must have sensed my growing anxiety and sought to soothe me with his touch. I was grateful for it, because his hand was the grounding force I needed to calm myself as we pulled up in front of my apartment.
Lucas parks on the street in front of my door, and although we exit the car together, we both head in different directions. As he walks over to talk to the mover that has been waiting for us, the four boxes I am keeping stacked at his feet, I head straight for the front door.
Left slightly ajar, I give the door a gentle push to open it all the way. It bounces gently off the wall parallel to it as I step inside. Dread immediately rises inside of me, but I push it back down with a deep, steadying breath. The last time I crossed the threshold of my front door, I was leaving with the intention of ending my life. Doing it now, although feeling completely different, still feels uncomfortably strange.
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.