Page 20 of Glass Rose (Where Roses Rot #1)

My heart skips. “Have you been trying to contact them?”

“Every night.” A muscle ticks in his cheek. “Using John’s radio setup. Military frequencies, encrypted channels we established.”

“Any response?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t mean they’re dead. Just means they’re smart enough to stay off the grid.”

I process this, poring over his profile. The hard line of his jaw, the careful blankness he’s trying to maintain. “You want to go find them.”

His silence confirms it.

“Where would you start looking?” I ask .

“We had rendezvous points. Three of them. Spread across the state.” His voice turns detached. “Standard protocol if communication went dark for more than thirty days or something went wrong.”

“So go. What’s stopping you?”

He brings my hand to his lips. “You know what’s stopping me.”

Me. He means me. “I’ll join you.”

“Into unknown territory? With no guarantee they’re even alive?”

“Yes.” I eliminate the space between us. “Unless you don’t want me there.”

His hand finds my waist, fingers digging in. “Don’t tell the others. Especially not Alex. That camera-happy fucker would turn it into a goddamn rescue mission documentary.”

“When are you planning to leave?”

“I didn’t say I was?—”

I grab his shirt, bunching the fabric in my fist. “When?”

“I wanted to go on one or two-day supply runs. Check if I can reach them.” His eyes search mine. “A month. Maybe three.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Sofia—”

“Not negotiable.” I release his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles I created. “Either we both go, or neither of us. And if you leave alone. I’ll hunt you.” I doubt I’d be a very good hunter. Against a Black-Ops? No chance, but I’ll do it.

He throws his head back and laughs. A real laugh that transforms his face into something almost boyish. A deep, rich sound that catches me off guard, and settles something inside me. This is evidence that whatever they did to him at Green, they couldn’t take everything.

“You’d hunt me?” His eyes crinkle at the corners, shoulders still shaking. “With what? Your lab coat and a microscope?”

I shove him. “I’ve killed zombies. I’m practically Lara Croft.”

“Sure, Doc.” His fingers brush a strand of hair from my face, remaining at my cheek. “And I’m just a little concerned about the woman who squealed at a spider in the shower yesterday tracking me through hostile territory.”

“That was a really big spider.” I lean into his touch despite myself. “And it had the element of surprise.”

His thumb traces my bottom lip. “Like you’d have with me?”

“I’m resourceful.”

“That you are.” His eyes darken. “Your heart’s racing.”

“It’s not fear.”

“I can’t protect you out there. Not like here.”

“I don’t need protection. I need—” I swallow hard. “I need not to be left behind. Not again. Not by you.”

His thumb smears black blood across my cheek, his eyes tracking the movement with a strange intensity. I should be disgusted—I’m covered in zombie guts—but all I feel is the heat of his touch and the weight of what we’re discussing.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” he murmurs.

I rise on my tiptoes, fingers curling around his neck to meet me halfway. The kiss is softer than before, but no less urgent.

A promise, a claim.

When we break apart, his eyes carry that beautiful, dazed look, and I know I’m making him feel exactly what he does to me.

He draws me against his body, palming my ass. “What were we fighting about again?”

“Your hero complex. My recklessness.” I gesture to the corpses surrounding us. “The usual relationship stuff. ”

“Relationship.” He tests the word like it’s foreign. “I like the sound of it.”

“And I like you.”

His eyes widen, his body going completely still. I’ve broken him. One little ‘I like you,’ and the big bad super-soldier freezes like I’ve confessed undying love.

I step back, giving him space. “I said I like you, not that I want to bear your children. It’s not a marriage proposal. Please don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Your face says otherwise.” I poke his chest. “You look like I just told you I have a collection of your toenail clippings.”

“That would be less terrifying.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes darting to the warehouse in the distance. “People who like me tend to end up dead.”

“Good thing I’m stubborn, then.”

He grabs my wrist as I turn to walk away, tugging me back against his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“You like that about me?”

“I like a lot of things about you.” His voice drops to that gravelly tone that makes my stomach flip. “Including how you handle that knife.”

“Just the knife?”

“I need you.”

The simple declaration hits harder than any flowery speech could. Three words that contain multitudes.

“You have me.” My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy. “Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

I twist out of his grasp. “We should get back. John will send out a search party if we’re gone much longer.”

“Sofia.” My name sounds like salvation on his lips.

Shit.

“No.” I hold up my hand. “I’m covered in zombie guts, and we’re standing in a clearing full of corpses.” I gesture to the mess around us. “Not exactly the romantic setting I had in mind for… our first time.”

His lips twitch. “You had settings in mind?”

“I—” Warmth spreads across my face.

This is something else entirely.

Something far more dangerous than any zombie could ever be.