Page 1 of Uprising

Rose

It’s early. Too early to be awake.

And yet we both are.

We’re lying here, as the rising sunlight streams in through the gap in the curtains. Neither of us are talking. All I can hear is his breathing, all I can see is that beautiful smile of his as he watches me back.

I’m transfixed.

Lost in this moment in time.

He raises his hand, strokes my cheek, grazes it with his fingertips and I turn my face so that I can kiss his palm.

He’s so beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, I still can’t believe he is mine, that we are here, like this.

He doesn’t speak. He just lies there, wrapping his arms around me and I shut my eyes, lost in the safety of that feeling. In the protection of him.

I can smell him. That deep intoxicating scent of the man I love.

“Rose…” He murmurs softly.

“I love you.” I whisper it back, needing him to hear it, needing him to know it. To feel it too, to feel everything I am feeling in this moment.

He smiles again. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you.”

I blink, realising that my tears are falling. I don’t know why I’m crying right now. I don’t know why I can feel this pain because Roman is here, and I know I’m safe with him, that I’ll always be safe with him.

“It’s time to wake up.” He murmurs.

I shake my head. I don’t want too. I don’t want to come out of this. I think, if I could, I would stay here fast asleep and dreaming forever.

He cups my cheek, kisses my lips, but it’s not enough, this kiss isn’t nearly enough.

“Rose.” He murmurs again.

“Don’t leave me.” I say back.

His eyes show his pain, reflecting what my own body, my own heart is feeling.

“You have to take care of Lara.” He says.

“But we were meant to do this together.” I reply. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes you can.”

“Roman please, please, don’t leave me, don’t go…”

He shakes his head slightly. Opens his mouth to say something only I’m being shaken awake. And this moment, this dream, whatever it is, it’s gone.

* * *

I blink opening my eyes.The fresh autumnal air hits me from where Darius likes to sleep with the balcony doors open. It chills my skin, leaves me in goosebumps, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

His hand reaches around pulling my face so that I’m forced to look at him.

“You were muttering.” He says. “In your sleep.”

I drop my eyes, averting his gaze. It’s not the first time I’ve done that. But it’s not even like I have any control over it, after all, who decides what they dream about?