10. A Cold Embrace
A Cold Embrace
Havoc
S uspicion flickered in her eyes. “I don’t know, Havoc.”
“It’s too cold to sit apart. If we hold each other, we can share some warmth. And if our boat turns over, at least we’ll be together when we hit the ocean.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not planning to do something bad, are you? Like kill or rape me.”
A dark smirk tugged at my lips. “I’ve already decided something.”
“And what’s that?”
“No killing or raping until we’re somewhere safe, I promise.”
Despite the dire situation, she let out a small, reluctant chuckle.
Mmmm. What a beautiful sound. I didn’t know I needed to hear that right now.
For some odd reason, my spirits lifted a little.
Then, she curled her lips into a smile, and that smile, even in the midst of this nightmare, brought an overwhelming warmth to my chest I hadn’t expected.
It was like a ray of light pierced through the darkest clouds.
She chuckled again, and it was a soothing balm to my soul, even easing the tension in my muscles.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed that, how much her soft chuckle would mean to me. It was a reminder that we were still alive, still capable of finding joy even in the most hopeless situations.
Once she finished chuckling, she let out a long, sad sigh. “What a gentleman.”
“There’s nothing gentle about me, but our chances of surviving rises if we work together.”
“Okay. Maybe. . .you’re right.”
I smirked. “You’ll find, Onyx, that I’m always right.”
Onyx's expression softened further, the tension between us dissolving as the icy wind continued to bite at our skin.
She looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking again. “Have you ever heard about the bear vs. man question?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve been busy hiding from maniacs. What’s that about?”
She adjusted her position, drawing her knees closer to her chest as she explained. “So, in this video that went viral, women were asked whether they’d rather be stuck in the woods with a man or a bear.”
“Hmmm.”
“And to everyone’s surprise. . .most women answered that they’d rather be stuck with a bear.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why would they prefer a bear over a man?”
“Many believe bears are more predictable and that bear attacks are very rare compared to the murder and sexual violence committed by men.”
“I can see that. Many men can be dangerous bastards. But even more. . .I could see the bear being a smarter answer but for different reasons.”
“What do you mean?”
“I would rather be trapped with a bear than a man.”
“Why?” Onyx shifted closer, her eyes reflecting the moonlight as she waited for my response.
I leaned back, considering the question carefully before speaking. “It’s about survival.”
“Survival?”
“If I’m stuck out there, a bear would be incredibly useful once it’s dead. For starters, I could eat it. Bear meat can be tough, but it’s a good source of protein and fat, essential for keeping your strength up in the wild.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“The fur would be invaluable. It’s thick and warm, perfect for making blankets or clothing to keep me from freezing in the cold nights. Plus, I could use the bones to fashion tools or weapons. Bear claws and teeth can be turned into makeshift knives. Even the bear’s fat can be rendered down for cooking or used as a source of light.”
“You sound like you’ve survived being lost in the woods before.”
“I have.”
She blinked.
I continued, “I could eat a man too, but I’m not a fan of cannibalism.”
“Thank God since I’m stuck with you.”
“It’s not just the moral repulsion; human meat can carry diseases, and the psychological toll of eating another person is immense.”
She shuddered.
“And human skin isn’t nearly as useful as bear fur. It’s thinner and wouldn’t provide the same level of warmth or durability. You could maybe make some crude leather out of it, but it’s not practical for surviving in the wild.”
She held her mouth open in shock.
“Come here so we can keep warm.”
“After you just discussed the pros and cons of eating and skinning a human?”
“I believe I offered more cons than pros.”
“I believe you spent too much time thinking about it.”
Or I actually had to eat a man before.
I reached out. “Do you want to survive or die here on this raft?”
“I want to survive.”
“Then, come here.”
Slowly, she came over to me, being very careful in the rocking boat.
Once she got close to me, I opened my arms, and she slipped into my embrace, her body fitting perfectly against mine.
Mmmm.
The contact was immediate.
Warmth spread between us.
Her soft dreadlocks brushed against my chin, while her orange spiced scent filled my senses.
Fuck.
I held her tighter, needing not just her warmth, but the feeling of her soft body against mine.
This is perfect.
The raft rocked beneath us, the storm’s fury growing, but for a moment, I found peace in our hold.
Sighing, she rested her head against me and her breath warmed against my neck. “Thank you.”
“No.” I closed my eyes and sank into her softness. “Thank you.”
The warmth of her body pressed against mine, the tender cadence of her breath—it served as a soothing elixir to my weary spirit.
While the wind's mournful wail circled and whipped around us like a cold, cursed phantom, within the sanctuary of this hold the weight of my despair lightened and this profound realization washed over me.
This was different than the typical back and forth I had with women.
This wasn't the mindless, detached sex I was used to.
This was intimacy—a closeness that perhaps transcended physical contact.
It was a connection I had never allowed myself to experience. In my line of work, intimacy was a weakness, a price of vulnerability that I could never afford no matter how much existed in my bank account.
Throughout my life, all relationships with women had been transactional.
This meant that encounters were fleeting, and emotions were buried deep beneath the surface.
Sex was just another tool.
A means to an end.
Devoid of any deeper meaning.
It was only the journey of pleasure and orgasms.
Nothing more.
But this.
This was something else entirely.
I like. . .this. . .
Of course I kept that thought to myself not wanting to sound like a crazy man in this time of chaos. It just sucked that right when I was possibly about to die. . .I would learn about the power of this sort of closeness with a woman.
Now, I regretted keeping my emotional distance with women, building walls around my heart to protect myself from the inevitable loss and betrayal that came with my lifestyle.
Yet, here in the middle of the vast, indifferent dark ocean, those walls began to crumble.
I want to live and. . .I want more of this. I’ve missed so much out of life.
To my surprise, she moved in closer to me, so close that I could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong against my chest.
Then, she whispered, “This feels good.”
“It does.” I smirked. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”
“Apparently, someone has an odd case of amnesia.”
“What?”
“I was about to kill you.”
“You wish.”
“I don’t wish. I simply make death happen at ease.”
Light warm drops of rain fell on my skin.
Damn it.
At least the rain wouldn’t be freezing cold like the ocean.
She snuggled up even more. Her dreadlocks fell against me. “I'm starving.”
“Me too.”
She trembled against me. “What do you think happens when two assassins are starved and stuck on a raft together?”
I closed my eyes, falling deeper within the intimate moment. “One will eventually eat the other.”
“There you go again with the cannibalism.”
“To be fair, you keep bringing up scenarios that deal with it.”
“But, just an FYI, I’m not that tasty.
I chuckled, the sound surprising even to myself. “I bet you are delicious.”
“I’m about to go back to the other side of the raft.”
“My apologies.” I tightened my hold on her. “What's your favorite meal, Onyx?”
Her voice turned dreamy like she could see the dish right in front of her. “There's this little place in Seattle, a hole-in-the-wall joint. But it makes the best Pho I’ve ever had. Sometimes I fly there, just to order it.”
“Mmmm. Tell me more.”
“The broth is rich and flavorful, and the noodles are perfectly cooked. Plus, they have this special hot sauce that just makes it all come together.”
“God. . .that sounds good.” I imagined it in my mind.
The image was vivid—steam rose from the hot broth, the fragrant aroma of herbs and spices tickled my nostrils. I could even feel the soft chew of tender beef and noodles in my mouth.
My stomach growled.
I opened my eyes, wishing it were right there.
But of course, only the ocean peered back at me.
She lifted her gaze to me. “And what about you?”
“Me?”
“What’s your favorite thing to eat?”
“There's a diner an hour outside of Atlanta. They make this incredible bacon cheeseburger. Thick, juicy patty, melted cheese, crispy bacon. And the fries. . .” I licked my lips. “God, the fries are perfect. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside.”
She chuckled softly. “We're going to make ourselves even hungrier talking like this.”
“Yeah, but it's better than thinking about the cold and the upcoming storm.” Once again, I tightened my hold on her a little bit more. At this point, I might squeeze the life out of her. She just felt so damn good in my arms.
Thankfully, she said nothing and gave no physical protest, telling me that she enjoyed our hold as much as I did.
We fell silent for a moment, and I listened to the rhythm of the waves and the distant rumble of thunder.
It was strange how such a simple conversation could bring so much comfort, how imagining a future beyond this nightmare could make the present a little more bearable.
More drops fell, landing on my skin and causing a shiver to run down my spine.
“Tell me something about you,” I said, hoping to get my mind off the rain. “Something real.”
She was quiet for a moment, as if considering what to share, then she finally spoke, “I used to dance. . .ballet. Started when I was three. It was my whole world for a long time.”
That’s why when you kill you look like you’re dancing. Interesting.
“Why did you stop dancing?”
Her voice grew distant, as if she were looking back through a fog of memories. “When I was eighteen, my parents died in a car accident. Left me alone with my younger brother.”
I tensed.
“I tried to keep dancing, but we needed money, and fast. I had to grow up overnight.”
I could hear the pain in her voice, the lingering sorrow of a lost dream. “I'm sorry.”
It was the first time in many years that I’d ever uttered those two words. I was not the sort of man that ever apologized to anyone.
And I damn sure never had a long enough conversation with a woman to comfort her.
Onyx continued, her voice steady but tinged with bitterness. “I started working whatever jobs I could find. Waitressing, cleaning, anything to keep us afloat. I even. . .sold weed here and there.”
A dark chuckle left me. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“All of those jobs were never enough. . .so I got into dealing heavy drugs—cocaine. . .crack. . .meth—I was forced to purchase a gun.”
“One would need a gun.”
“And as you know. . .when you have a gun and are selling those items. . .the chances of shooting someone go up.”
“Of course.”
“Another dealer tried to take my drugs and money as well as. . .rape me and. . .”
“That was the first person you killed?”
“Yes. Then, an addict tried to rob me in the middle of the night and now we have the second person.”
“How did you feel after your first kill?”
“Like a demon destined to live eternity in hell.”
“And what about the second one?”
“That was when. . .I started to go numb.”
“That happens.”
“I sold more. . .killed more. . .got more money. . .due to a deadly reputation.”
“Killing people has a way of spreading your name around town.”
“It does.” She sighed. “Then one day, this man approached me. Said he could offer me a way to make real money, and take care of my brother. All I had to do was be willing to learn some. . .unconventional skills.”
I frowned, sensing where this was going. “He recruited you.”
“Taught me everything I needed to know to become an assassin. At first, I did it for the money and to get out of drugs. Although I said it was all for my brother. But over time, it became my life. It was all I knew. The dancing, the dreams—they faded into the background, replaced by the mission, the target.”
Tension gathered in my shoulders. “Sometimes killing becomes its own addiction.”
“True.”
“And your brother?”
“He's in college now. Studying engineering. He thinks I'm just a successful businesswoman. I send him money, pay for everything. He doesn't know the truth. I. . .don’t spend a lot time around him anymore.”
“Wolves don’t like to be around lambs. You might eat them.”
She trembled again.
“You've sacrificed so much for him.”
“Well. . .that's what you do for family, right?”
“Right,” I whispered, however, her words had brought back heartbreaking memories that I had buried deep—memories that clawed their way to the surface now that the darkness and isolation provided no distractions.
I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of those memories pressing down on me.
“What about you, Havoc? Tell me something about yourself.”
How many years had it been since someone dared to ask me about my past?
Even more, how long had it been since I’d answered.
Should I tell her?
Would it matter?