Page 31 of Where the Dark Knelt (Worshipped by Darkness #1)

Chapter Nineteen

Eveline

We walked through the garden together, and though he didn’t touch me — not once — that restraint somehow made his presence even more powerful.

Inside, though, I was aching for his touch, craving that electric shiver from our first meeting, the warm tremor that spread through me, seductive and maddening.

I shook my head, trying to banish those vulgar thoughts.

He caught the motion and laughed softly.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head again. “What kind of compliment day is this?”

“Is it forbidden to give you compliments?”

“No, but—”

“Well, be a good girl and accept it.”

He reached out, stroking my hair gently, like a cat savoring the touch, and laughed again. A warm blush spread across my cheeks at his ‘good girl.’ Apparently, I had a thing for praise. Great, another kink to add to the list that I would not be able to fulfill like ever.

I exhaled shakily and forced myself back to the moment. “Alright, seriously... why are you here?”

He smiled, that crooked grin that both infuriated and intrigued me. “I came to see you. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Well… this is…”

“Listen,” he interrupted, eyes darkening with something unreadable. “I just want to get to know you better. Talk. And now… I want to know more about you. Will you start with something intimate?”

Something about the way he spoke, like we were old friends, made me snort despite myself. But I couldn’t let him fill the silence with unanswered questions.

“Okay, okay. What do you want to know? The life of a nun isn’t exactly... thrilling.”

He hesitated, then his face twisted with anxiety and a flicker of genuine concern. “I mean... do you... not really remember your life before the monastery? Or in general?”

His question caught me off guard. Weird — this stranger, who somehow seemed so familiar, worrying about me like that.

“Well, it’s like I remember some really dark moments, but anything truly good…

seems lost somewhere deep in my memory,” I admitted.

“I remember once when half of our team was just… cut at work.” I hesitated, but he listened without interrupting, gently taking my hand and, oddly, I didn’t want to pull away. It felt... comforting.

“They just got an email saying they were fired. Some big-shot in management decided to let go of up to fifty percent of employees in one day, said it was budget cuts, whatever.” My jaw clenched, the memory burning fresh. I hated those men who ruined people’s lives like that.

“I was still living with my parents then, had a roof and food. But those employees who were immigrants, alone here… they were completely on their own. I knew a girl like that — so closed off, always inside her head. I can’t imagine the stress she lived with every day.

And it broke her…” My lips pressed tight. I was shaking.

“The next day, we found out...”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me. I can imagine,” he said softly, squeezing my hand tighter. I felt it go cold, icy even, like the memory itself.

“I…” I coughed, nauseated by the thought. “We were at the office when our boss came around to say she was gone. I didn’t know her well, we just shared a couple of jokes from time to time at work. But watching someone take their own life over losing their only lifeline… it breaks you.”

“In a way?”

“Yes. Even just witnessing it... this world...”

“Disgusting. No matter what anyone says. But that’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah. Everyone has their own path. Their lessons.”

“You definitely have an interesting path...” He whispered close to my ear, a smile brushing his lips as he pulled me into a hug.

I froze, hands thrown up in surprise, unsure what to do.

Hugging the first person I met... it felt abnormal.

But after all these years, I missed it, especially from a man who smelled so good.

My heart thundered, trying to burst free from my chest. I trembled in his arms, caught between fear and something deeper.

“Hush, hush… if you need hugs and help that much, you can always rely on me.”

“I… I don’t… I don’t need help. I have God.”

“That’s how He helps you with your depression and all the horror you’ve been through,” he said softly.

“Well, that was what my soul chose before I was born here. And He’s God…” I thought to myself, even as he led me into the depths I’d always been too afraid to venture.

“Yes, but you know,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm, “I believe that if He really existed on this planet and actually cared about His wonderful creatures — aka people — then He’d hardly allow all these wars and horrors. Because He loves His creations, right?”

I shook my head gently. “Well, it’s because humanity became this way. This world turned into hell on earth for so many. It’s the price we pay for our sins and sufferings. And I believe most of the wars and horrors are Satan’s tricks, really.”

He laughed, a low sound that vibrated through his chest and sent warmth through me. I lifted my head to look at him. He was so much taller than me and I was pressed up against his chest…

He gently stroked my hood, pulling it down to reveal the kerchief under which my hair was hidden. Slowly, he began to pull that down too. I caught his hands, shushing him.

But he took it off anyway.

“You know…” he murmured, his fingers threading through my hair, and it was so unexpectedly pleasant that I almost closed my eyes from the sensation.

“Our Satan… he’s more like the orgies guy.

He’s all about rock and metal bands, not hunger and war like your God.

Parties with hot demons and demonesses, wild nights, bathing in hot springs completely naked… that’s his style.”

I nearly choked at his words, then burst out laughing despite myself. Tears pricked my eyes from the suddenness of it all – his touch, his absurd honesty, and the dark humor wrapped in his teasing voice.

“Oh my God… what are you even talking about? It’s not like that at all! God can be cruel, but only to those who don’t honor Him. But He’s merciful, even to sinners. You know? He loves everyone...”

“Yeaaaaaaah,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amused contempt.

“You know, you still have the cruel god, your ruler and patron of all people… though who the fuck knows where he is now, or where he disappeared to.” He mockingly shrugged, his grin widening with dark satisfaction.

“But they say he hasn’t been seen on this God-forsaken planet for fifty thousand years, right? ”

I scrunched up my face in confusion and silent anger, but before I could retort, he laughed out loud, it was a deep resonant laugh that vibrated through his chest and into mine.

His hands stopped playing with my hair, sliding instead to my neck, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin where my pulse raced under his light, teasing touch.

“I’m Desmond, by the way,” he murmured, his thumb gliding over my lower lip.

I gasped softly, unable to suppress the tremble that spread through my body like wildfire.

Ten years without a touch… My soul screamed its denial, but my body…

my body melted under him, craving human warmth, craving touch, craving anything that made me feel alive again.

“We can… come closer, if you don’t have anyone else to chat about religion with,” he teased, his thumb pressing down just enough to make me inhale sharply. He smiled, almost lazily, seeing my reaction, then began to play with my hair again as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I actually thought you needed a conversation,” I mumbled, half-defensive, half-breathless. “You were the one begging me to talk to you so much.”

“Well, as it turned out,” he said with a soft laugh, wrapping a stray curl around his index finger and tugging it gently, forcing me closer to him again, “it’s you who needed the conversation. I’m just… the messenger.”

“Messenger?” I blinked up at him, trying to keep my mind focused despite his touch clouding everything inside me. “Whose messenger?”

He tilted his head, regarding me with a wolfish smile. “You know… I’m the messenger of those who test faith. And so far…” His eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “…you haven’t passed the test.”

My brow furrowed and I shook my head, letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh. I smiled at him then, a graceful sly smile, the smile of a cat toying with a bird. “Because you’re flirting with me… right in the middle of a flower garden.”

But then… then it was as if ice water poured over my head.

Reality hit. I tried to pull away, panic fluttering in my chest. I didn’t even understand how I’d ended up in his arms, pressed so close, his warmth seeping into every hidden, empty place inside me.

No one had touched me for so long. I’d succumbed to something – his spell, his energy, his dangerous charm.

But… I hadn’t done anything wrong, I told myself quickly, clutching onto the thought as if it were a rosary. Hugging wasn’t a sin. It was human. It was support. It was… it was what parishioners did to comfort each other, right? And he…

“What?” His smile curled into something maliciously sweet, dark amusement glittering in his eyes. “Are you trying to justify yourself?”

His smile widened further, playful and cruel all at once.

Without letting me answer, he took my hand again, his grip warm and impossibly sure as he led me forward.

We walked in silence, the wind rustling the loose strands of my hair until we reached the cliff, the place where there was a steep descent to the ocean far below.

We stopped right by the old iron fence meant to keep people from falling.

The same place where I once saw Astra crying, I realised, a dull ache pulsing in my chest at the memory.

Back then, when we didn’t know each other at all…