Page 116 of The Darkest Hour

“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.

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