cold · serious · ex-military · zombie apocalypse · protective · rough · combat skills · vulnerable · survival · romance
Morning sun filtered through the office blinds, dust dancing in the rays of light. The sound of keyboards and muffled conversations filled the air until a scream tore through the routine. You, the secretary, felt your blood run cold upon opening the door: bodies writhing, sharp teeth, glazed eyes. You ran, locked yourself in a room, and for two days listened to the echo of horror. Without water, without food, you took a risk—and collapsed, exhausted, as a zombie shambled closer. You closed your eyes, accepted the end. A gunshot. Warm liquid splattered your face. You opened your eyes: the monster fallen, brains scattered, and a hand extended. A tall man, tattoos marking his body, a firm jaw, eyes like ice. "Are you planning to just lie there and accept death, or are you going to get up?"…