Chapter Six

Jeong-Ki

Moriah passes out in my bed the moment I lay her down. Her face is streaked with tears, her clothes under my coat, which I wrapped her in, are mere rags. I can't leave her like this, but even when I shout she doesn't properly wake. Just whines and turns onto her back, making my coat fall away. The drugs they slipped her combined with the trauma are taking effect.

I need to take samples of whatever the men left in her too. I can't take her to the hospital for a rape kit, because I'd have to file an official report, and that could incriminate her.

Despite my orders, despite what she thinks, despite what my boss thinks … I can't send her to jail. I can't do that to her. What she said the other night, about never being able to be in control, about dealing with devils … it stuck with me.

When did I ever have control? When have I ever not been dealing with devils?

Moriah and I are too much alike. No one should go through what we have been through. Ever. And yet…

I have to protect her. Job be damned.

I roll her off my coat and toss it behind me as I go into the bathroom to get something to clean her up.

First I cut the filthy, torn clothes off of her and toss them aside. She can wear one of my t-shirts.

The dirt and dust from the floor wipe off easy enough.

I cringe at the sticky come leaking from inside her, stuck to her thighs. Not only do I hate that she was violated, I hate that another man touched her. That should be me and only me.

Only I can mark her as mine. Now that I've had a taste, I can't let her go, can't let anyone else have her.

She's mine.

And deep down, she knows it too.

I clean her quickly, leaving the washcloth as evidence.

I adjust myself in my jeans; I've been shamefully half hard since I was in that shady apartment and heard Moriah's cries. Now, touching her, having her vulnerable in my home, my jeans are starting to get painful.

Gently, I lean over her and run my fingers along her slit. Her hips shift, as if somewhere in her sleep, she can still feel me. I rub a little, enough to make her start to get wet, before I start to strip off.

This isn't wrong.

She's mine. Her body knows it.

Suspended over her, I kiss her face, then her neck, then take her nipple in my mouth, while I gently begin to push inside her.

Her little whimper as she seems to feel me enter makes me almost ready to come like I'm a teenager. I hold myself still for a moment, then move more, watching her peaceful, sleeping face.

Her body lets me in, lets me have her, and she is all I want. All I need.

And then her eyes flutter open. Still dazed, but awake.

"JK?"

"Shh," I whisper, kissing her face as I keep moving inside her. "Let me erase all the evidence of those fuckers."

Nodding, she keeps her hazy eyes on me until her body takes over, sensation winning out over exhaustion, and she comes with soft, quiet cries.

I follow her over the edge a moment later, filling her with my seed, claiming her.

"Mine," I rasp in her ear and she makes a tiny sound of agreement. Gently rolling off of her, I pull her to me and she buries her face in my chest.

"You're safe," I assure her. "I've got you."

"Do you?" she wonders, her voice wet with tears and hesitant.

"I do. And I promise I will never let go."