Afterglow: An Apocalypse Romance

by Monroe, Maria

  The bedroom door creaked open, and Creed entered the room. She could smell him, a heavy masculine scent (and far less stinky than she would have guessed someone would be in this sort of situation), and her body inexplicably calmed down as he approached. His weight on the bed next to her when he sat down jostled her slightly, and she opened her eyes, surprised to see compassion in his.

  “Nina,” he said in a low voice, reaching out to touch her shoulder, then pulling back like he’d been burned. “Look. I didn’t consider the fact that you’d never... it’s hard, your first time.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered, her tears finally slowing.

  “We had to kill those guys earlier. They were looking for you, Nina. And killing you was definitely their plan, but not right away. Do you know what I’m saying? If they’d gotten you alive, what they’d have done to you would probably be far worse than simply killing you.”

  She nodded. She knew. She did. But she didn’t want to think about it.

  “This is a new world. A different world. You’re probably going to have to kill more people, Nina. We both are.”

  “So, what? It will get easier to kill people? Is that supposed to comfort me?”

  “Yeah, actually. It is.”

  She looked up at him. In the dim bedroom, with him leaning over her on the bed, the shadows made his face darker, but his eyes glinted, filled with an intensity she had never seen before.

  She let out a trembly breath. “So you said you were a Marine. Do you know anything about what’s going on? Any, you know, classified information other than the stuff about the virus?” She sat up, excited at the possibility of finding something out.

  “The last intel I heard isn’t for civilians, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Looks like terrorism. The United States was targeted with a biological weapon—the virus—just a few weeks before a solar superstorm was predicted to occur. Nobody thought it would. Leading scientists predict flares all the time, and they never happen. Guess the assholes got it right. Perfect timing.”

  “Did they call you in when things got bad?”

  Creed shook his head. “I was honorably discharged two years ago, but I’m still in the loop sometimes. Got fucked up in Iraq.”

  “Oh my god. What happened?” Nina’s eyes opened wide at his admission.

  He shrugged, his answer curt. “ISIS. Suicide bomber.”

  “Shit.” Nina whispered the word, staring at him in admiration and sadness. She wanted to ask more, wanted to bombard him with questions, but his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes, staring past her, let her know he wouldn’t be in the mood to answer them.

  “Got that right.” Creed lifted his shirt.

  Nina couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped her lips. It wasn’t the tattoos that crawled over his chest and six-pack that took her breath away. It was his body. Good lord, but she’d never seen, in person, such a perfect physique. His stomach caught her attention first, rock hard and defined, with that gorgeous V heading down into his jeans and filling her head with filthy thoughts. A light line of hair ran down into his pants, and it took all her control not to reach out and touch it, trace it slowly down.

  And his chest. Her eyes roamed up from his stomach, settling on his massive chest that looked like it had been sculpted because a mere mortal could never, ever look that beautiful. She wanted to study his tattoos, look at each one and ask about it, but he took her hand roughly in his and brought it to his side, just above the waist of his jeans. His body was hot under her fingers as she felt his skin, the smooth rise of massive scarring shocking her.

  “Oh my god, Creed,” she whispered, feeling with her fingers as though reading Braille, trying to understand the road map of trauma on his body.

  “My leg got fucked up too,” he said, letting his shirt fall and pointing at his thigh. “You want to see?” Even in the darkening room she could see his wink as he moved his hands to his belt buckle.

  Was it bad that her body pulsed, as if waiting for him to follow through, for him to stand up and lower his pants? Was it bad that her pussy instantly tingled when she thought about the fact that they were sitting here, on a bed, and nobody was around except for the two of them? Was it bad to let all the possibilities fill her mind in one giant dirty mental orgy of fantasies?

  She shook her head and smiled. “Sorry for adding to your scar collection today,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Creed’s loud laugh let her know she’d succeeded. “Yeah. Thanks. I heard chicks dig scars.”

  “If you say so,” she said, rolling her eyes, but damn if she didn’t like his scars, if she didn’t want to feel them again, to trace along them, and then his tattoos, with her fingers. “Tell me about your tattoos.”

  He grunted dismissively. Like a caveman, she thought, a big, gruff Neanderthal.

  “I like the phoenix,” she pressed. It was the one that had really caught her eye, a detailed and richly colored bird of flames, wings spread as though rising up in flight.

  He nodded but didn’t respond, a faraway look in his eyes. He stared across the room, and she was sure he wasn’t seeing the shelf of books and the ancient stuffed animals her parents still kept in the room.

  “So, what? It symbolizes rebirth, right?” she asked.

  “Goddamn, sweetheart, you’re nosy,” said Creed. He looked directly at her again and rolled his eyes, but she thought she saw a twitch at the side of his lip.

  “Just trying to make conversation. You’re the first person I’ve talked to in two weeks,” she said, repeating his words from earlier with just a hint of sarcasm. Something about getting him riled up was entertaining.

  “Got it for my buddy. He died the day I got injured. Satisfied?”

  “I’m sorry,” muttered Nina. What she was sorry for she wasn’t exactly sure. Prying, mostly, but also because he’d lost so much. “And I’m sorry about, uh, Leslie and Kaylee? Your family? I’m sorry they died.” She reached out a hand to touch his arm, tentative, but pulled it back, unsure of his response.

  He grunted again.

  “How long were you married?” she asked.

  He turned to her sharply. “Married? I wasn’t... No,” he said, recognition dawning on his face, “Leslie was my sister. Kaylee my niece. I moved in with them when Leslie’s husband, my buddy, died in Iraq. When I got injured. Same day. Same shit.” His voice trailed off, bitterness and sadness behind his words.

  Nina didn’t know what to say, how to respond. She wasn’t good with other people’s upsets, never knew how to deal with them. So she reached out her hand and put it on his thigh, the denim of his jeans soft under her hand, his leg hard and muscular.

  His eyes. They heated up, like a furnace had been turned higher. But he stayed completely still, just staring at Nina. Her heartbeat picked up and her nipples hardened, just from the way he was looking at her. It made no sense. Guys never had this sort of spell over her. Never ever. She enjoyed men, sure. But never at the expense of her sanity, her rationality. And there was nothing rational about this feeling, that probably, if he pushed her back onto the bed and covered her body with his, she wouldn’t object.

  I barely know him! And this is a messed-up crazy time! She’d always kept men at arm’s length, afraid to become too dependent on anyone. She’d always been taught by her grandmother to take care of herself. If anything, the apocalypse intensified the need to keep her distance, not minimized it.

  As if thinking the same thing, Creed cleared his throat and stood, letting her hand fall back onto the bed. He stared at her for a second longer, the heat still there, and then a grin broke the intensity. “So, sweetheart,” he drawled. “We gonna talk about your road trip or what?”

  * * *

  With a crowbar Nina pried off the two 2×4s she and Creed had used to secure themselves inside her parents’ house the night before. The boards wouldn’t make it impossible to get in, but they’d make a lot of noise if someone tried to break down the door.

  The mornin
g was gorgeous, soft sun shining through the still-green tree leaves. Fall was coming, but the colors hadn’t changed yet. It was the last bits of summer, holding fast to the world, and Nina couldn’t believe how pretty it was. For a second she could almost pretend everything was normal. She was leaving her house to get into the car, drive to school to teach. It would have been a perfect day for a jog in the evening, with the sun slipping slowly down into the sky, the air a luscious mix of heat with hints of crisp coolness. Oh, fall. Her favorite season.

  Except this fall was different than any other. This was the first fall of the end of the world, or at least the world as she’d known it. Looking around her, at the deserted neighborhood and the huge plumes of thick gray smoke in the distance, she was hit, suddenly, with the magnitude of everything. “Shit,” she whispered into the beautiful morning around her.

  “Morning, sweetheart.”

  Nina jumped at Creed’s sudden voice behind her. “Jesus, Creed!”

  “Nice reflexes.” Creed nodded at the gun in her hand, which she’d immediately—instinctively—pulled from her holster.

  “Next time I might shoot you,” she hissed.

  “I’d outdraw you.”

  “Not a chance.” She felt her blood heat up at the challenge in his voice.

  “As much as I’d love to debate who’s quicker, we’ve got shit to get done.”

  “Whatever,” said Nina, rolling her eyes, though she knew he was right. “Why do you think there are so many fires out there?” she asked.

  Creed peered out into the distance. “Probably sections of the electrical grid got fried during the solar storm. Or maybe fast-moving gasses set things on fire. Or looters. Hard to say.”

  “Jesus,” muttered Nina.

  “Got that right. Come on. I made breakfast.” He turned abruptly and headed back into the house.

  Nina followed him back inside. She hadn’t slept well last night. They’d spent about an hour after dinner—if you could call handfuls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch from the box and cans of Diet Pepsi dinner—debating what Nina would give Creed for his bike, before he finally told her that he was under no circumstances going to give her the motorcycle. He didn’t think she could learn to ride it well enough, and he might need it. He would, however, accompany her to her grandmother’s house.

  He made it clear he’d leave almost as soon as they got there if everything looked good for Nina, if her family was there. And then he’d head on, exactly where he didn’t say and Nina didn’t care. It wasn’t ideal, but Nina was smart enough to know this was her best chance to get out of here as soon as possible. So she’d tried to rein in her anger and agreed to the arrangement.

  He stayed in her house that night, in her parents’ room, which was directly on the other side of the guest room where she slept. Except “slept” wasn’t really the right word for it. She’d spent so many hours wide awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to the night around her, ears peeled for any sound of danger.

  Even though she and Creed had boarded up the windows and the doors, there were so many unknowns. Fear kept creeping into her head, and a few times she had to hold herself back from tiptoeing into Creed’s room and slipping into bed with him. Not for anything other than protection, than the feeling of safety that came from being with another human being.

  Though, if she were being honest, she had to admit there were moments throughout the long night when she wasn’t listening for sounds of intruders; she was listening for sounds of Creed moving around. She was wondering if he’d pulled his shirt up over his broad shoulders, if he winced at the lingering pain in his arm. If he’d then removed his jeans, and what he looked like almost naked, that rock-hard body lying restlessly on top of the covers. Because she heard him moving around too, the bed creaking, the floor too, in what sounded like relentless pacing throughout the night. They were both on edge, with only a thin wall separating them.

  “Here.” Creed gestured at the kitchen table, where he’d set out a pack of pudding cups. “Breakfast.”

  “This is what making breakfast looks like?” Nina couldn’t hold back her smile.

  “These days.” Creed shrugged.

  “You forgot the coffee.”

  Creed raised an eyebrow at her, then stepped out onto the back porch and brought in a camping coffeepot, steam rising out of the spout.

  “Well, look at you, big boy. And here I thought you’d just chew on a handful of coffee beans to get your caffeine fix.”

  He flashed a smile at her, and Nina’s knees grew weak. She sank down into a chair and, while he poured her a mug of coffee, used the opportunity to check him out. He looked clean—he’d said something about getting well water to wash off, because of course Nina’s grandmother had her own well for just this purpose—and his hair was damp, making it even darker. It was messy, too, like he’d run his hand through it a few times.

  His jaw, hard and chiseled, begged to be touched. The black fitted T-shirt he wore clung to his muscles, and his arms—oh god, his arms!—were so defined and strong. Even the imperfect stitches she’d given him—she’d have to check out his wound before they left—did nothing to detract from how gorgeous his biceps were. They, like his chest, were tattooed, and her eyes focused on the phoenix once again. In the morning light the swirls of red and orange were even more gorgeous. He had on a clean pair of jeans, a worn leather belt fed through the loops.

  “Get your fill?” Creed’s deep voice broke through Nina’s focus on his body.

  “Oh. What?” A blush heated Nina’s cheeks.

  He nodded down at himself. “You want to see more?” he asked, lifting the bottom of his shirt suggestively. He was smiling, teasing, but there was something dark in his eyes as he joked with her.

  Nina’s face burned, and the throbbing between her legs was undeniable, but she forced disdain into her voice all the same. “No thanks. Hey, I noticed you shaved for our big trip.”

  “Yup. Don’t know when I’ll have a chance again.” He ran his hand over his smooth cheeks and jaw, and Nina couldn’t help wishing she could do the same. Just for a tiny second, just for a small taste of what his skin felt like.

  Where the hell were these feelings coming from? He wasn’t even her type. More important, she couldn’t trust him. Not now. Even though she knew her grandmother was a bit of a zealot, she’d drilled the idea that nobody could be trusted in times of danger into Nina’s and Logan’s heads. “The only person you can trust is yourself,” she’d said, and that’s why she’d insisted that both of her grandchildren knew survival skills. Grandma Lottie had been right about everything else, and Nina’s own protective instincts told her to keep her feelings in check.

  The only reason she was going to travel with Creed was because she needed him. Her one goal right now was to make it to her grandmother’s house to meet up with her family. What he did then was his business. And it had nothing to do with her.

  * * *

  After they ate they focused on packing for the trip. Creed’s motorcycle had two saddlebags, but once they started laying out necessities for the journey, they quickly realized there was less space than they’d thought. Whatever they chose to bring would have to fit into the side bags and Nina’s backpack. They agreed on the essentials: guns and ammo, a pocketknife and hunting knife for each of them, MREs (though the plan was to raid stores and homes along the way for more food), a first-aid kit with medicine, including Creed’s antibiotics, flashlights and batteries, and as many water bottles as they could fit. Nina’s BOB also had other things, like waterproof matches and a lighter. She rolled up a few changes of underwear and socks and an extra set of clothes—jeans and a T-shirt—and stuffed them into her backpack.

  “Let me look at your arm before we go,” she said to Creed.

  “It’s fine.” He was examining his bike and didn’t look up.

  “Probably. But I don’t know how to drive that thing yet, so you’ll need your arm a little longer. Have you been taking the meds?”

&nb
sp; He grunted in response, but looked up at her. “It’s sweet that you’re so concerned about me… sweetheart.”

  “I’m only concerned about you because if you’re injured, you can’t get me where I need to go.”

  “How utilitarian of you.”

  Nina looked quickly at him in surprise.

  “You’re surprised that I know such a big word?” His smirk was maddening—and insanely hot—and she wanted desperately to either slap it or kiss it off his face. She wasn’t totally sure which she’d prefer.

  “No, I, uh...” It was the second time that day he’d made her stammer, made her embarrassed, and she didn’t get flustered easily. “If you want me to check out your arm, come inside with me. Last chance.”

  “Baby, you can order me around like that any time you want.” His smile was even bigger now.

  Nina fought down her embarrassment—again. She wasn’t going to let him see how much he affected her. She walked straight to the house, not even looking back to see if Creed was following her.

  Inside he sat at the kitchen table, and she cleaned her hands with an antibacterial wipe—it was the best she had since there was no running water—then used a second wipe for good measure. She nodded at his arm, indicating that he should pull up the sleeve of his T-shirt.

  He did, staring into her eyes so suggestively that he might as well have been peeling off his underwear instead of merely exposing his bicep. Flustered, she wanted to yell at him, but there was nothing to say. Stop looking at me? They weren’t in kindergarten. Instead, she swallowed her feelings and focused on his arm.

  There shouldn’t have been anything sexy about looking at the spot where she’d sewn him up, so maybe it was the proximity, the fact that her fingers got to gently caress his skin as she felt the area, delicately cleaned it with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, carefully applied a layer of antibiotic cream, then covered it with gauze.

  His soapy and masculine odor went straight to her head, and she focused on his breathing, the minty smell of his freshly brushed teeth mixing in with his other scents. Once, he uttered a quiet but sharp intake of breath, and she glanced at his face, looking for evidence of pain. But he was staring right at her again, and when their eyes met, she had to look away, her body filled with heat. Desire.