Forever After (Post Apocalyptic Romance Boxed Set)

by Rose Francis

  “Neighbour?” she asked, her voice going a bit high with fright before she regained her calm. “You live around here?”

  Her shirt was buttoned up the front, but it did nothing to hide the fact that she was nude under the transparent shirt, her black skirt landing at the middle of her thighs.

  Leon kept a calm exterior, didn’t show that he was nearly ready to drop to his knees before this woman already, so beautiful was she. Continuing on, he nodded slowly. “My place isn’t far from here”—he glanced back down the path—“though it’s a lot harder to find, so I’d be surprised if you knew it.” Pointing ahead, he said, “I stumbled on it just ahead.”

  She looked around the trail, lowering her gun only just then looking up at him. “What about it gave it away?” she asked, her voice still stern but a lot softer now. It was easier to see this woman singing in her front yard as her guard was slowly dropping.

  Clearing his throat, the tall dark man spoke quietly. “I was driven off the main route I take by some bears,” he explained. “And I’ve got my share of tracking skills, so I noticed the forest here was a bit... off.” He looked to her—“The name’s Leon by the way”—and gave a light smile, very faint.

  Her lip curled slightly as she rubbed her forehead, brushing the black bangs from her eyes toward the ponytail at her side.

  “Well, I guess it’s time to move on then,” she murmured, looking a bit crestfallen at the prospect. Seeing as how he hadn’t yet hurt her, she lowered her gun to her side, letting it hang there limply.

  “Adrianna,” she responded in turn, looking back toward where he’d pointed out as his general location. “How far away are you?”

  Her voice was so lovely. The more calm she became, the sweeter and softer it grew. It was so lyrical with her accent that it was hard to pay attention to the words. He could simply listen to her speak all day.

  Stopping, he turned and faced her completely, his smile growing without it even intending to, he was so taken with the woman, her looks, her voice. “Well that’s a shame to hear,” he said, one hand up at the strap of his gun, keeping it there behind him, the other at his side. “Would’ve been nice to have a neighbour that’s not a bandit, a wannabe boss, or a rabid dog for once.” He cracked a bit of a wry grin. “And I’m barely a stone’s throw away. In fact... I’m a bit embarrassed I didn’t notice you here sooner, within so short of a walk of my place,” he admitted.

  She frowned, her gun slowly pressed back into the holster. “Don’t think I can’t get to it in time if you try anything,” she warned him, beginning to move back toward her cabin. “I just got here a couple weeks back. Was a wonder I wasn’t found sooner if you could find this place. No offence.”

  Her attitude and crack made him bust out into a chuckle. Before she was gone too far he called out, “If you’re interested, before you leave, I’ve got things ta trade.” He put on his most charming grin, with a bit of humour to it.

  She stilled, turning back to him curiously.

  “What type of things?”

  She didn’t look much like the material type of individual, living ostensibly on her own in a shack with barely anything in it, especially if she was a nomad. But nomads always needed a few things—clothes, protection, shoes.

  Seeing her interest piqued, he took a few slow, tentative steps closer so they were back to casual speaking distance again. “You name it,” he began. “Books, clothes, food. Though,” he said with a certain degree of confidence, “my speciality is findin’ and repairing old world tech.” With a shrug of his shoulders ,he explained, “You name it, I’ve probably scavenged and repaired it at some point. Guns, radios, even TVs.” Holding up his hands in mock surrender, though, he said, “But I ain’t carryin’ all of that on me right now, if you’re thinkin’ of robbing me. Just a warning.”

  “I think I’d notice if you had a TV strapped to your back,” she quipped, but her lovely voice made it seem like such a delicious reprimand. “I do not have much to trade in return.”

  With a jovial chuckle, he responded, “The opening line of every shrewd negotiator.” With a grin, he added, “I know to be wary with you then.” He looked back down the path toward her place. “Since I’ve already seen it, did you care to care to have a look and discuss back at your place? You can see what I’ve got on me, and if there’s somethin’ you need, we can discuss that too.”

  “That is fine. I will be gone from there quickly,” she spoke in her singsong voice, seeming a bit more uplifted, if nothing else, as she headed back through the trail. She obviously knew it well, and her heavily traversing of it is likely why it was easy for him to follow, even though she was so thin and small.

  Returning back to her hut, she opened the door to let him in, revealing a small one bedroom with a table and a bed stuck unceremoniously to either side of the shack. There was very little room, and it was hard to even understand who put this house here or why.

  Sizing up the tiny place, he moved to the table, slinging his gun off and leaning it to the wall in a careful manner, so as to not alarm the woman. “You certainly didn’t pick the glitziest place in the neighbourhood,” he said. “No wonder you didn’t stick out.”

  Pulling off his backpack, he put it onto the table, and began to undo the straps. “You must be tougher and more capable than you look,” he said, giving her a pointed once-over that was more sexual than it appeared, “to survive on your own like this.”

  She was a single Asian woman living amidst a sea of bandits and bullies, of rabid dogs and wild animals, and it was easy to understand why he would have underestimated her. Still, as she sat across from him and crossed her legs, her hands rested atop her knees and she looked serious. If there was anything about her that stood out beyond her beauty and intoxicating voice, it was that.

  “If we’re less capable than we look, we die,” she assured him, her bangs landing just below her sculpted brow. “And so. If I’m to travel, I will need supplies. Many.”

  He couldn’t help but look down across her leg as she sat there like that, but then perhaps that was her aim. “Fair enough,” he said with a firm nod, liking the woman and her self-assuredness more and more.

  Seating himself at her little table as well, the chair groaning beneath his weight, he pulled out a pile of goods from his backpack. He hadn’t taken much with him.

  “I was on my way to go scavving,” he explained, “not on my way back, or out to trade. So I ain’t got much on me.” He pulled out the food supplies he was taking with him, things in tins and sealed canisters, easy and light for travel, but nourishing. Tinned sausages with a twist-off lid, fruit cups. Things that were worth more than gold in the wastes of civilization. He ate a lot, though, to keep up his muscle, so it ended up being quite a bit. “And like I said, I got things I can get and bring back here within a few hours if you can make a tempting offer.”

  “As you can clearly see, I do not have much to barter. You may have thought you were otherwise calling my bluff.” She leaned forward, her arm leaning against the table.

  “Still, I’ve told you what I will need. I think it is only fair you let me know what you might find useful. Perhaps something might fall into my lap while you’re out collecting the rest of my supplies.”

  With a wry grin at that, he chuckled briefly. “I see.” Nodding slowly, he pulled a few more things from his backpack; a very sturdy, well-built compass, a few extra knives, watch, thermal canteen. “Shame you’re movin’ on so soon.” He reached up and stroked his chin, looking over at her.

  “I ain’t got a lot of need for much of anything,” he said, “mostly I trade with some of the farmers and the like for fresh vegetables I don’t make myself. Or the occasional hard-to-find odds and ends I need for repairing gadgets and the like.”

  He let that hang there a while, not wanting to get too explicit yet.

  She looked over at the wide array of items, her fingers tapping along the edge of the wood. How did she grow her nails out so long in the wild like this?
She touched the edge of a knife blade, hefting it in the air and moving it about to test its weight before settling it back down.

  “I am fine for food. What about bullets?”

  He nodded, slowly. “What calibre? I’ve got all kinds, but I only carry the one with me. Though I don’t usually trade in ammo and guns lightly. I don’t like to arm potential trouble, if you get my position,” he said smoothly. He looked to the handgun, having already recognized it of course. “For that one?”

  She nodded, her thigh shifting to allow the gun to come into better view, with the side effect of exposing a lot more of her leg. He could almost barely see the cusp of her ass as she tilted in the chair. “Since I will be moving, you should trust I will be no trouble.”

  He didn’t want this woman to move, he realized. Though he wanted to slap himself for giving a damn. That kind of thinking got you killed. “That I can do,” he said easily enough. “You’re trained in it, I take it? Or at least well practiced?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “I will not kill you while loading it,” she reassured him as she leaned forward, her hand cupping her chin, fingers pressing against her lips thoughtfully. “Other than that, I usually have everything I need. But since you will not trade lightly, what will it cost me?”

  The fact he could see through her top was making this agonizing on him, constantly distracting him from thinking clearly. Pulling his helmet away, his thick dreadlocks falling down to the sides of his face, he scratched his head in thought. He was a strikingly handsome man himself, of course, his smooth, chocolate complexion flawless, his jaw wide and masculine. Full lips, dark piercing eyes. He was known to make ladies swoon with his protective, capable manner.

  But she was doing a number on his confidence it seemed.

  “I don’t know what you have,” he said, trying not to look over her body, “though if it’s true what you say, and you don’t have anything worthwhile to trade...” He shrugged. “We could work out a deal to benefit us both.”

  She nodded at him, her lips quirking just so. Fuck, she was gorgeous. She leaned back in the chair, straightening her skirt once more, though she did nothing to move it further down her legs. Her new pose only did more to try to tantalize him toward her bare breasts, only slightly hidden beneath the dark, transparent shirt.

  “How long did you say it would take?”

  “A few hours,” he said quickly, not willing to show more weakness than necessary to this woman. “I don’t carry handgun ammo on me,” he stated. “I stick to my rifle for the most part.” That was true, it was what he trained with the most.

  Sitting back in the chair, it creaked beneath his weight, and he folded his thick, muscular arms across his chest, looking across at her, a firm façade hiding his reverence for her dainty features, her pale beauty.

  “Then I will stay here until nightfall and see what I might find to barter with,” she agreed, standing up from the table. Her breasts were almost perfectly in his line of sight, and just out of reach. They were so perky and well rounded, small enough that she didn’t need a bra yet large enough...

  It had been almost two weeks since he had seen another woman, let alone touched one, and there was something about her body language that was off-putting. She was so close... He could smell her and it was almost like French vanilla, a light, warm fragrance.

  Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he replied in his own satiny voice, “I’m sure you will.” He pushed his things back into his bag, and looked around. “Shame again that you’ll be movin’ on. A friendly neighbour that’s open to trading would be a welcome change of pace.” Closing it up, he remarked, “Normally I gotta hike most of a day for that.” His dark eyes travelled down her form again as he hefted the back, slinging it over his shoulder.

  “I’ll be back before nightfall,” he said.

  She followed him to the door, looking after him as he made his way toward the city, and as he moved past the clearing, he could hear her singing once more. An eerie, dark song that reverberated through the trees and filled the air with her soft, sweet voice.

  Chapter 15

  It was strange. His head pounded, the sensation growing the further away he got. Her song echoed in his ears, the melancholy beauty of it, and he wanted to please her. To find these bullets and just get the fuck back to her. The trek took too long, even though he didn’t see anything along the now deserted paths. Not even an animal moved into his way.

  His movements were faster as he tried to reach his home sooner, ignoring the headache that throbbed at the back of his eyes.

  Arriving back, he had to chastise himself several times for not being careful enough, but overall he was just struck with the urgency of needing to do something for her. He took the bullets, then grabbed up a few extra things. Foremost one of the communicator radios he’d repaired, stuffing it into his bag and hurrying on back.

  The prospect of being near to her made his headache dim, moving out into the still afternoon. It felt as though things were finally looking up for him, some idea formulating in his head that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Still, he knew his luck was about to change, and had a strong suspicion it was tied into this strange, gorgeous woman.

  Chapter 16

  By the time he arrived back to the squalid hut, he was feeling joyful and positive for the first time in many days. She was no longer outside, her clothing pulled in off the line, and a candle burned in the hut. It flickered and elongated her shadow from wherever she was in the room, but there was no more singing. It was simple silence as he knocked on the door.

  The seconds passed torturously as he waited for that brass knob to turn, but when it finally did and he smelled her heavenly scent once more, his muscles instantly relaxed.

  “Ah, you’re back. I was getting afraid you’d stood me up.”

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, he realized. Some nagging part of his brain told him he was being stupid, and not careful enough with this woman. She could’ve been waiting for him to return to shoot him and take the bullets.

  That part went silent before long, though, and he continued smiling to her. “Stand you up? My only neighbour? I couldn’t bear to do it,” he said, letting his backpack slip off his shoulder so he could hold it up.

  She let him into the room, a bag settled on top of her tiny cot. Obviously all her worldly belongings were shoved into there, though it really wasn’t large. She settled back into her seat at the table, a mug of some herbs placed just in front of her, half drunk.

  “I’ll be leaving at dawn,” she assured him, and he suddenly was wrenched with a feeling that he simply could not let her leave. He thought of his plans, of having a kingdom of his own, and with her he could attract so many more, surely.

  Moving to the table, that knot in his gut, he laid the backpack down and began to pull out the ammo boxes. “That’s a shame,” he began, “a real shame in fact.” His own dark gaze flitted to her. “You must move around a lot then? Never staying in one spot too long? Must be rough.”

  “I only make it a few weeks before someone finds me, usually. Sometimes months, but never in the winter. Spring and fall are usually the only times I’m able to really make a place home.” She leaned in, still wearing the translucent blouse and her skirt with the gun strapped to her thigh.

  “It gets very lonely.”

  As if in a daze he slowly sat himself down, looking to her. “I know exactly how you feel,” he stated, pulling off his helmet and laying it aside. Shaking his dreads free to their natural state hanging loosely about his head, he continued, “Gets tiresome. I gotta admit.” He licked his lips. He wanted to blurt out something pathetic, but struggled to make himself not. He was gonna work this coolly if he was gonna do it at all.

  “I can imagine. How big’s your place?” She crossed her leg again in that subtle, meaningful manner, exposing the strong outer thigh toward him as she moved to sip her tea once more. “Did you want any?” she asked as she placed the mug back dow
n on the table, and the smell was almost as divine as her.

  He nearly laughed, because his place was a town in itself compared to her shack. “Big enough for you, me, a dozen others and then some,” he said, his eyes flicking to what she was drinking. Common sense and his natural caution told him to say no, but part of him couldn’t let himself distrust her. “Sure.”

  She shifted to the small area that served as the kitchen and the pot that steamed on the counter, going to fill the mug at its side. It was already prepared, apparently, for his arrival, and she stirred it before bringing it back to him.

  “It’s hot,” she warned, licking her pink lips thoughtfully. “The bigger the place the lonelier it is, isn’t it?”

  With a slow nod and muttered thanks he took the mug. “It is,” he said and peered around. “Guess that’s the reason behind your setup. But for me”—he shook his head and raised the mug just before his lips—“I wanted to plan. For kids. Lots of ’em. A fine woman to help me lead a crew. Though none of that has materialized yet,” he said, blowing on the hot liquid. “I’m too picky.” He took a sip at last.

  “Shame,” she murmured, mimicking his motions and taking another sip. “There’s so few around, it’s hard to be picky. I can empathize, though,” she added on, her voice taking on that melodic hint, mixing with her foreign accent. “And yes. I live small because I don’t wish for a constant reminder of the singularity of my existence.”

  Looking her over pointedly atop his mug he lowered it to the table. “Woman like you would have her pick of all the men in the ruins of civilization,” he said pointedly. “Woman like you looks like she’d have been a supermodel before the fall.” He wet his lips, barely able to restrain himself from asking her to stay with him in the most blunderingly amateurish way.