Page 29 of Glass Rose (Where Roses Rot #1)

SOFIA

I’m drowning again, the cold water filling my lungs, swallowing me whole. Then warmth registers. A strong arm draped over my waist, a solid chest warm against my back.

Gavin.

The room is dim, morning light peeking through half-closed curtains shedding light on the dark wood furniture and navy sheets of the bed, which smell like pine and something uniquely him.

His scent is everywhere, cocooning me like another blanket.

I twist in his arms until I’m facing him, my nose inches from his.

His eyes remain closed, but a smile plays at the corners of his lips.

This man saved me, even jumping into the cold, full of Infected, water to do it.

My man. I reach out, tracing his jawline with my fingertips, rough stubble scraping my fingertips.

His voice is rough with sleep. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I whisper back. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember? ”

I shake my head. “Last thing I recall is Vivian shoving a pill down my throat.”

“Sedative. For sleep.” His thumb brushes over my cheek. “You were practically catatonic from the cold, but wouldn’t stop asking about John. So I brought you to him.”

“Is he?—”

“He’s fine. Surgery went well. He’s resting.” Gavin’s arm shifts, his palm sliding down my back. “You passed out on the exam table. Looked uncomfortable.”

“So you brought me back to your bed?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s… comfortable.”

Something flashes in his eyes. “Say it’s not and see what happens.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Maybe.” His eyes soften. “How do you feel?”

“Like I jumped off a bridge and nearly drowned… Gabriel?—”

“Can’t touch us here. He doesn’t even know this place exists.” His lips touch my forehead, lingering there. “You should rest more.”

“I’ve been sleeping for—How long was I asleep?”

“Eighteen hours, give or take.” His hand glides up my spine, fingers tangling in my hair. “Your body needed it.”

“Eighteen—” I sit up too fast, the room spinning briefly. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you almost died.”

His words trigger a flicker, a memory surging through the fog in my brain. The bridge. The fall. The runner.

The runner that stopped.

He had me pinned, forearm jammed under his chin as his teeth snapped inches from my face.

“There was something…” I grab Gavin’s wrist. “On the bridge. The infected—the runner—it froze.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean, froze?”

“I mean, it fucking stopped. Mid-attack.” My fingers dig into his skin. “It had me. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, and then… it just seized up.”

“Maybe you hit something vital.”

“No.” I shake my head violently, trying to remember. “I hadn’t stabbed it yet. It was like… like it was fighting itself. I—“ No. That’s… “I screamed at it to stay still.”

His whole body tenses against mine. “Wait. You told it to stop, and it… did?”

“I didn’t tell it to stop. I begged it to stay still so I could stab it properly.” I laugh, but it comes out hysterical, edging on manic. “And it fucking listened.”

He sits up, sheets pooling around his waist, eyes scanning my face like I’m a puzzle with missing pieces. “That’s not possible.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes. “Maybe I hallucinated. Oxygen deprivation or extreme stress or?—”

“Or the virus responds to verbal commands. Like it was designed to.”

My hands fall away. “Compliance.”

Our eyes lock.

BC-7’s original purpose was never a weapon but a tool—a way to make subjects more obedient. What if it didn’t entirely fail?

“We need to test this.” I swing my legs over the bed, but the room tilts violently.

Gavin’s hand steadies me. “Whoa. Not today you don’t.”

“But if I’m right?—”

“If you’re right, the infected will still be infected tomorrow.” His fingers curl around my bicep. “You need to recover first.”

“People are dying while?—”

“And you almost joined them.” His voice sharpens. “You think I pulled you half-dead from that water just so you could kill yourself trying to talk to zombies?”

He’s right…

I run a hand through my tangled hair, grimacing at how it feels against my fingers. Greasy. “I need a shower. I feel disgusting.”

“You’re not?—”

“I can still taste that water.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the room’s warmth.

Before I can take another step, he’s up and bends me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

“What the—” I pound his back with my fists. “Put me down!”

“That’s the plan.” His hand roams up my thigh as he carries me across the room into an adjoining bathroom.

The space is small but clean, with white tiles, a glass shower stall, a toilet, and a single sink.

He sets me on my feet, keeping his hands on my waist until I’m steady. “Better?”

My cheeks burn. “I could’ve walked.”

“Could’ve.” His fingers find the hem of my shirt. “Arms up.”

I hesitate, then do as he tells me. The shirt slides over my head, his knuckles grazing my ribs, and goosebumps scatter across my bare chest.

“You’re shivering.” His voice drops lower.

“I’m fine.”

He kneels, working my borrowed sweatpants down my legs. “Step.”

I grip his shoulders for balance and obey.

His breath ghosts across my stomach and my thighs as his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.

I cup his cheek, making him look up to me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He stands, stripping his clothes, and at last?—

My breath catches as I take in the sight of him fully naked for the first time. Until now, I’ve only felt him through layers of fabric. Hard and insistent against my thigh, stomach, back, and center. But seeing him like this…

His cock stands thick and proud against his stomach, longer than I’d imagined, the head flushed dark and already glistening at the tip. A visible pulse throbs along the underside.

I’ve had my fair share of partners, but there’s something about Gavin—all of him, not just his impressive size—that makes my mouth go dry and my core wet as a waterfall.

My fingers twitch at my sides, aching to touch him and feel the weight of him in my palm.

A half-smile plays across his lips as he reaches past me to turn on the shower. He knows exactly what I’m thinking, and not due to his enhanced super-abilities.

Steam fills the small space as he tests the water with his hand.

After a few seconds, he’s satisfied and guides me inside.

Hot water cascades over us, and I close my eyes, tilting my face into the spray while Gavin’s hands slide soap across my shoulders and down my back, massaging away the knots I haven’t been aware of.

No infected. No Gabriel. No apocalypse.

His hands move to my hair, working shampoo through the tangled strands, massaging my scalp, gentle yet firm, in the process. The caring in the gesture nearly breaks me.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You feel better?”

“Much.” I let my head fall against his shoulder and give in to my earlier impulse to wrap my hand around his hard length.

“Sofia—” His voice catches as I begin to stroke him.

“Let me.” I turn to face him, circling the sensitive head with my thumb. Water streams down his chest, following the contours of scars I’m still learning. “I want to.”

He braces one hand beside my head against the shower wall, the muscles in his forearm tensing. “You don’t have to. ”

I drop to my knees. “I want this.”

The groan that escapes him when my lips close around the tip sends heat pooling between my thighs.

“Fuck.” His free hand threads through my wet hair, not guiding, just holding. “Your mouth?—”

I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks. His thighs tremble beneath my palm while I stroke the rest of his cock with my other hand, and his fingers clench in my hair.

“You’ve kept yourself in check since we met.” I release him with a wet pop, glancing up through water-clumped lashes. “Always controlled. Always holding back. What happens if you stop?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Show me.”

“You—Fuck.” His hand brackets my throat, hauling me up until our lips are inches away from each other. A reminder of his strength, of how easily he could crush my windpipe. “You weren’t breathing, Sofia. And I don’t know how gentle I can be with this new me.”

I love how he can flip that switch, from gentle to dangerous in a heartbeat. “I survived.”

“I could snap you in two without trying.”

My nipples harden against his chest. “But you won’t.”

“No… I won’t.”

In one motion, he spins me, trapping me face-first against the cool tile.

His body cages mine, cock throbbing against my lower back while his teeth graze my shoulder. “Spread your legs.”

I shift my feet apart, and one large hand cups my breast, fingers rolling my nipple, while his other hand plunges between my thighs.

“Already so wet for me.” His voice is barely recognizable. “Is this what nearly dying does to you, baby? Makes you desperate to be fucked? ”

I whimper as his fingers circle my clit, teasing but never applying the pressure I crave. “Please?—”

“I love it when you beg.” His teeth nip at my earlobe. “Give me some more.”

“Please, Gavin.”

“You scared the shit out of me yesterday.” He thrusts two fingers into me, catching me off guard, the stretch burning in the most delicious way, but he holds them still.

My forehead connects with the tile. “Wasn’t exactly a picnic for me either.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“What, save you?”

His fingers tangle in my wet hair, tugging my head to the side. “I don’t need saving.”

“Everyone needs saving sometimes. Even you.”

“Not at the expense of your life.”

“My choice.” It’s never been this hard to hold a conversation. Can’t he just?—

“Not anymore.” His teeth sink into my skin at the same time his fingers curl and his thumb puts pressure on my clit. “You’re mine now. That means you don’t throw yourself off bridges.”

I gasp. I have been his since the moment our eyes met through the observation glass.

“Don’t do it again.”

“I can’t promise?—”

“Please.” Just one word, but it cracks open something in him I’ve never seen before.

“Okay.”