26. Worship
Worship
Onyx
My dream enveloped me like a thick, oppressive shroud.
I found myself kneeling in a dark, damp cave with jagged walls and mounted firelit torches.
Around me, hundreds of figures knelt on the cold ground. Black hooded capes hid their faces.
And the whole time, they whispered in unison, “Worship. . . worship. . .worship. . .”
That word slithered through the air and echoed off the cave walls.
Dread vibrated through my body.
And for some reason. . .I began to whisper the word over and over too. “Worship. . .worship. . .worship. . .”
Movement sounded in front of me.
I looked up and saw that in the center of the cave was a massive stone pallet, raised on a platform that glistened with dark red, wet stains.
“Worship. . .worship. . .”
Even though far away, I could feel the coldness of that stone and that triggered an uneasy chill to creep up my spine.
Then, all of the figures went silent.
For some reason, the quiet scared me more than their ominous chanting.
And behind the stone pallet, a figure stepped out of the darkness.
I opened my mouth in shock.
It was a man.
Tall and muscular.
Terrifying and commanding.
Black and red paint coated his skin, and there was these silver symbols drawn on his chest and arms.
On his head, he wore an elaborate headdress made of these long black feathers.
Meanwhile, his face was obscured by this odd half-skulled mask. It was a grotesque creation, made of bone and silver.
But I could still make out the bottom half of the man’s face—sharp jawline, strong chin, full lips.
Yet, when I looked back up at the top of his face all I could make out was this mask’s melding of human features with those of some predatory animal—the eyes, dark, hollow and empty, yet somehow alive.
In his hand, he held a large knife that looked to be made of bone. The blade was clearly sharp as it glinted menacingly in the firelight.
And without being told. . .I knew that knife had been forged with dark intent.
Everyone around me, began chanting again, “Worship. . .worship. . .worship. . .”
The voices of the hooded figures blended into a single, overwhelming sound that pounded in my ears, making my heart race with fear.
Then, smoke rose around the pallet.
I had no idea where it came from, just that when the smoke cleared. . .
A large figure lay on the pallet.
My gaze fell on the person’s face.
Oh no.
There—bound and helpless—was Havoc. His chest was bare, his muscles taut against the restraints that held him down.
And I knew. . .
I knew what was about to happen.
The realization hit me like a thundering physical blow.
“Worship. . .worship. . .worship. . .”
The masked man raised the bone knife high above his head, and that deadly blade was poised to strike.
To plunge deep into Havoc’s chest.
No. Please, no.
The ritualistic movements of the masked man were slow, deliberate, as if he relished every second leading up to the moment of violence.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“No!” The scream tore from my throat. I rose from the ground.
All the figures looked up at me, yet still chanted, “Worship. . .worship. . .worship.”
I broke free from the crowd and even the frozen grip of terror that had held me in place, and surged forward. “Don’t kill him!!”
“Worship. . .worship. . .” Many of the figures reached out with skeletal hands. Some of their fingers clawed at my clothes as they tried to pull me back. “Worship. . .worship. . .”
I couldn’t stop.
I wouldn’t stop.
Havoc’s life hung in the balance.
The knife began to descend towards Havoc’s chest in slow motion.
“No!” My scream echoed through the cave. “Please, no!”
“Worship. . .worship. . .”
I sprinted up to the stone pallet with my hands outstretched.
I was so damn close, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to be fast enough.
But, right as the bone knife was about to pierce Havoc’s flesh, my hand connected with the masked man’s arm, and the world shattered into chaos.
The knife clattered to the ground.
And this ancient, otherworldly horrific scream tore from the masked man’s throat.
The chanting stopped abruptly.
The cave plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by the ragged sound of my own breathing.
Then, the masked man crumbled into bits of black and red sand and then into nothingness. His headdress fell to the ground. The black feathers scattered like dead leaves in a storm.
I turned back to the crowd to see their reaction.
All the hooded figures began to disintegrate one by one, their bodies collapsing into piles of ash that swirled over and over in place and then seeped into the cave floor.
I turned to look at Havoc, but the world was shifting, collapsing in on itself.
The cave’s darkness began swallowing everything in its path.
And then, with a jolt, I was falling, spiraling down into the abyss, the cave, the stone pallet, and Havoc’s prone form fading away into the black void.
“No. No.” I woke up, drenched in sweat and my heart hammering against my ribs.
I opened my eyes, and the cave, the stone pallet, the masked man, Havoc’s bound form, the bone knife—it was all gone, replaced by afternoon light filtering through the trees.
It was a dream.
I panted as I lay against the ground. The grass was soft beneath my cheek, and the sound of the water lapping against the shore was calming.
It was just. . .a fucking dream.
Yet the fear, the horror of losing Havoc, lingered in my chest.
Yawning, I rubbed my eyes and took in more of my surroundings. I lay on my left with my cheek against the dirt.
Where is Havoc?
I shifted a little and became acutely aware of the warm air on my bare skin.
I’m fully naked? Did that pervert take off my bra and panties while I was asleep.
I sat up slowly and my gaze fell on the branch in front of me where my bra and panties hung to dry.
Oh. He. . .washed my panties and bra. O-kay. . .
Next to them were Havoc's pants.
He washed his pants too. So. . .somewhere on this island is a very naked Havoc.
I turned my head, searching for him, and found him standing in the stream—or rather, what used to be a stream. While I hadn’t noticed at night, I could clearly see that we had wandered to the part of the forest where the water had risen and widened, turning what I thought was a stream into a small river.
I smiled, watching the water reach Havoc's waist.
He had his back to me. His skin glistened with moisture. He splashed water on his face, and the muscles in his back and shoulders rippled with the movement.
Mmmm.
The memories of our passionate encounter flashed through my mind, and a lusty thrill of excitement washed over me.
My skin tingled with excitement too, so much that I almost considered running away, just for Havoc to hunt me down and chase me again.
He would think I was crazy. Well. . .it probably doesn’t matter. He’s fucking crazy too.
A delicious warmth spread through my core, and I couldn't resist the urge to be closer to him.
It was crazy how easily I had gone from being terrified of him, to now feeling safe.
From wanting all the control, to now needing to submit to him.
Perhaps, he had proven to me that he could be gentle, tender, pleasure-giving.
Maybe, he had also showed his ability to truly take care of me, more than anyone else had ever tried. Either way, I found that. . .I actually wanted someone to watch over me. . .especially in this deserted island.
I yearned for it, and was tired of being in control and taking care of myself.
How did he do that to me? How did he get in my fucking head like that?
I slowly rose and remained as quiet as I could to sneak up on him.
Let’s see if I can catch him off guard.
I made sure to not make one sound, but just as I reached the edge of the water, Havoc’s deep voice rose in the air. “It’s about time you woke up.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “Did you hear me coming just now, or did you smell me coming?”
He chuckled. “Both, my sweet wildcat. Both.”
For some odd reason, those damn words sent a rush of heat through me.
I stood there, feeling the pull of Havoc’s presence, he turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the playful glint in his eyes. “Come in the water, Onyx.”
“Why?”
“I want to lick your pussy.”
My pulse quickened.
I looked to my right and spotted a large palm leaf laid out neatly on the ground, covered with fresh, plump strawberries, and beside it, a hacked-open coconut.
“Or. . .” He turned around and caught me staring at the berries. “You can eat breakfast. I picked them for you.”
I felt a warmth bloom in my chest at the gesture. It was unexpected, this tender side of him, and it made my heart swell with something deeper than just the passion we had shared last night.
I looked back at him. “Did you get any sleep?”
“I did, but not as long as you.” Havoc locked his gaze onto mine, and his eyes were warm and held a rare softness in them that I hadn’t seen before. “Once I woke up, I figured you would be starving so. . .”
“Thank you for making me breakfast.”
“Do not thank me.”
I frowned. “Because I’m going to thank you later?”
“No.” He smirked. “Because I was put on this island to worship you.”
I blinked. “W-why did you say. . .that word?”
He laughed.
“Havoc, I’m serious. Why did you say the word, worship?”
“Because you have been whispering that word in your sleep all day.”
“Oh.” I tensed.
“What did you dream about?”
“Nothing.” While I was hungry and thirsty, I yearned for Havoc’s touch more.
Instead of heading to my breakfast, I took another step closer to river’s edge.
He watched me. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
I scowled at him. “No. Why?”
“You know why.”
I let out a long breath. “Last night was the first and last time you will ever watch me pee.”
“Oh. I doubt that, wildcat.”
I headed forward and my bare feet began to sink slightly into the soft, cool mud.
Next, I stepped into the river.
The water was cool and refreshing against my skin.
Havoc slipped his gaze down to my nipples, and I waded toward him.
The water rose up to my thighs as I moved deeper. The current was gentle but steady.
When I finally got a few feet closer to him, he reached out his arms and pulled me to him until our bodies were molded against each other.
“Thank you,” I murmured and looked up at him.
He brought his hand up to cup my cheek, and then he brushed his thumb lightly over my skin. “You’re welcome, Onyx.”
For a moment, we just stood there, the water rippling around us.
There was a tranquil silence, save for the hushed murmuring of the river and the distant call of some unidentified creature deep within the forest.
The sun peered through the thick layers of leaves overhead, creating a scene straight out of a fairy tale.
He moved his fingers from my cheek, tracing down to my neck and then lower, over my shoulder, and down my arm until he captured my hand within his own and brought it up to his chest.
“Tell me something. . .Onyx.”
Our intertwined fingers rested against his chest. His heartbeat thundered under my hand.
“What do you want to know?”
“Is your real name Onyx?”
I smirked. “Is your real name Havoc.”
“It is Cross.”
“I like Havoc.”
“I like it too.” He leaned his head to the side. “And your name?”
It had been so long since I’d even said the name . I swallowed and whispered it, “Shay.”
“Hmmm. I like Onyx more.”
“Me too. . .Havoc.”
He chuckled. “You say my name like it is a dirty word.”
“After last night, it is a very dirty word.”
His expression grew deadly, and a dark growl left him. “Careful, Shay better known as Onyx. I am barely keeping my perverted beast at bay.”
I licked my lips. “I don’t want to be careful when it comes to you.”
With a wicked smile, he leaned down and kissed me, devouring any last bit of control I might have had on the situation.
His kiss was a heady potion of hot lust and mind-blowing affection that had me spiraling, adrift in the swirling currents of emotion.
“Mmmm.” Havoc released my hand, his touch lingered on my skin like a gentle caress. Slowly, he encircled his arms around my waist, drawing me into the cool waters of the river until it reached my waist and we were immersed in its rippling embrace.
“I want you,” I confessed in a whispered haze between kisses.
“And I want you, Onyx,” Havoc murmured against my lips. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything else on this godforsaken planet.”
His words were both a confession and a plea.
So honest that it gnawed at my insides and made me even hungrier for him.
Slowly, he withdrew from our kiss, leaving me with a sense of longing.
His gaze met mine again, but this time it wasn’t just lust that swam in his eyes; it was also tenderness—an emotion so alien and unfamiliar that it left me unsettled.
Yet, at the same time, it ignited something within me—something wild and untamed—like the very island we were stranded on.
“But first. . .”
I quirked my brows. “Yes?”
“You should eat something.”
I frowned.
“I don’t want to have to stop fucking you because you’re unconscious from starvation.”
“I’m shocked that’s not your thing.”
“Well,” he shrugged. “I am a pervert after all.”
I laughed, and fast he lifted me up, shoving away all of the humor as I lay in his huge, strong arms.
His strength was effortless as he cradled me in his massive arms.
The world tilted slightly as he moved, and my body fit perfectly against the solid expanse of his chest.
For a moment, I let myself sink into the sensation, into the warmth of his embrace.
Being one of a few black female assassins in our world made things lonely at times.
There wasn’t exactly much of a dating pool for me—someone who lived in the shadows, who thrived on danger and secrecy.
Most regular guys who came near me could sense the lethal edge that ran through my veins.
I never had to tell them that I killed for a living; they just knew it.
Perhaps, they could feel it in the air around me.
And always, without fail, they rushed away, as if my very presence were something to be feared.
To be avoided at all costs.
It was a lonely existence—one that I had come to accept as a necessary part of the life I’d chosen.
But here, in Havoc’s arms, that loneliness seemed to melt away, replaced by something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing—a sense of belonging, of being seen for who I truly was.
Of being absolutely accepted and loved.
And with all the craziness in my life, I wasn’t used to being the one who was taken care of.
The one who could let go of control, even for a moment.
My life had been one of constant vigilance, of always being prepared to strike, to defend, to survive.
But with Havoc, I no longer felt the need to constantly be on guard.
He was strong, capable, and I was beginning to trust him in a way that I had never trusted anyone before.
Even more. . .the feeling of being held like this, of being supported, was intoxicating.
I looked up at him, and his face was focused and intent as he navigated us through the water.
Warmth spread through my body.
I turned my head to the view before us, and as Havoc led me out of the water, I couldn’t help but notice another large palm leaf spread out a few feet away from my breakfast.
Wait a minute. What is that?
On this leaf, was a strange assortment of items—bullets, a shoelace, a yellow yo-yo, a human tooth, a torn teddy bear, and a thick braid of blonde hair tied with a pink barrette at the end.
I shivered. “Havoc. . .what is that stuff on the other leaf?”
“Aww. I was wondering when you were going to notice it.”
“What is it?”
“Clues from the island.”