{18+ COMPLETED}
A war that destroyed the world. It came and it went, leaving death and chaos in its wake.
In the resulting turmoil England has split into four regions, a safety measure that was 'essential' to ensure that violence would not reign ov...
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"I should go," Sam takes a step back, letting go of Emilia as she glares at me. If a look could kill you, Emilia's would be the one.
"I think that's best," I retort, smirking at her expression.
"Fuck off!" she snaps. "You don't get to run my life."
"There's a couple of Enforcers patrolling the street." I shrug and her glare instantly drops. I'm not lying.
"I'll see you later, Mils," Sam replies, smiling at her before he walks past me, shooting me a scowl on the way. Hearing the front door slam behind him I grin at her as she rolls her eyes.
"I see you've been having fun without me," I say in a teasing tone, ignoring the slight, strange discomfort I feel saying it.
"I can do what I want with my life," Emilia replies, turning and walking into the kitchen, out of sight.
"I know," I answer, following her. "Can't say that was a nice sight to come home too though."
"I didn't know when you were coming home," she counters, turning back to face me as I continue walking. "So, it's not my fault." I stop right in front of her, her eyes looking up at me with fire, clearly determined not to back down. I grin at her attitude, taking another step closer, watching as she sucks in a slow breath. I maintain eye contact, my dick twitching in my pants at her wide, innocent looking eyes. Damn it Zac, not now!
"Fair comment," I retort. "Do we have any food?" I ask, pushing passed her and pulling the cupboard door open, raising an eyebrow at the relatively empty shelves.
"I need to go and get some more at some point," Emilia mutters. "But I couldn't without..." She trails off. You fucking idiot, Zac. She needs me to collect the basic necessities. Jordan was right, I should have at least checked in with her.
"We can go in the morning," I reply, looking over my shoulder at her.
"Thank you."
"Do you mind if I eat a couple of these?" I ask, pulling out the open packet of biscuits.
"Help yourself, husband," she tells me. "They're yours too. I'm going to bed." She turns away, my gaze instantly falling to look at the way her denim skirt hugs her ass. Damn.
"You're not going to keep me company?" I call out and she lets out a dry laugh.
Turning back to face me, amusement is laced through her features. "Why would I? It's hardly like you've done the same for me."
"That's a good argument," I agree, grinning at her as I lean back against the counter. "But I'm here now."
"And I don't care," she retorts.
"Come on Mils, what have you been up to?" I press, watching as the amusement falls from her face.
"Don't call me that," she snaps and I raise an eyebrow.
