Free Afterglow: An Apocalypse Romance by Maria Monroe Page A

brick, the fireplace had a stack of wood next to it. Lucky again , thought Creed, stacking some of the logs into the hearth, and wondering idly how long their luck would last. From a wicker basket he grabbed a pinecone-shaped fire starter and long lighter.
    Once the fire was started, he took a quick tour of the house, locating a toolbox and breaking apart a dining room chair to use to bolster the doors. He found some candles in a drawer in the kitchen and lit them, placing a few on the kitchen table. Night had fallen, and the house was pitch black except for the fire in the living room and the candles he’d lit.
    Where the hell was Nina? She’d said she was getting dressed, but it was taking a long time. He wanted to respect her privacy—or at least he wanted her to think he respected it. But he was worried. The door to the bedroom into which she’d disappeared earlier was shut, and he stood still outside it. Her voice softly humming emanated from behind the door, and relief coursed through him. What was he so worried about? She was getting dressed, not risking her life in some deadly mission.
    In the kitchen Creed found some cans of chicken and dumplings that looked like slop as he poured them into a pot. He opened a box of crackers, tossed some onto a plate, and brought everything into the living room. He stuck the pot into the edge of the fire to heat up, then sat on the couch to wait for Nina.
    After a few minutes he heard her, then saw the glowing circle of her flashlight as she made her way into the room. She flicked it off, then sank into an armchair, dressed in her usual jeans and black tank top. She scooted the chair closer to the fire, shivering slightly.
    “Cold?” asked Creed.
    “A little. The fire feels good, though.”
    “Didn’t find any pajamas?”
    “No. Everything was men’s XXL.”
    For some reason his mind began to imagine what she wore to bed before . His fantasy, of course, was her in some silky negligee, but probably she wore a T-shirt and panties. Or short shorts and a flimsy undershirt. Creed’s heart kicked up a notch. Why the hell was he even thinking about this?
    A whiff of food refocused him, and he grasped the handle of the pot carefully and shook the contents about so it wouldn’t stick. He got bowls from the kitchen and served them both, and they ate in silence, both of them too hungry to spend time talking. Creed hadn’t realized how ravenous he was until he began to eat.
    When he was finished, he set his bowl and spoon on the coffee table. “I cooked. You can clean, sweetheart.”
    Nina’s eyes glinted at him in the firelight as she sent him a glare. Without speaking, she got up and disappeared into the kitchen with both bowls. Creed watched as she returned, moving slowly in the darkness.
    “No dessert?” she asked, heading to the armchair.
    “Got a sweet tooth?”
    “I’d pretty much kill for a Kit Kat right about now.”
    “Sorry,” he said, disappointment surprising him. He wished he’d found something sweet for her, and he didn’t understand why he even cared. It shouldn’t fucking matter. “You can sit on the couch,” he added before she sat down. “I’m not dangerous.”
    She stood still, giving him a long look, then moved to the couch and curled up in the corner farthest from Creed. “How’s your arm?” she asked. “I forgot to check it after you showered.”
    “Fine.”
    “Does it hurt?”
    “Nope.”
    “It’s OK to admit it if it hurts, big boy.”
    He felt like saying, “You have no idea how big I am, sweetheart,” but he knew that wouldn’t go over well. “I’m fine, Nina,” he said.
    “And you’re taking your antibiotics?”
    “Do you always nag like this?”
    “Fine. Next time you get hurt, don’t expect me to help you out.”
    “Next time don’t hurt me,” he countered with a smirk that she probably couldn’t see but could definitely hear in his voice.
    “Next time don’t kick me in the head. Or tie me up.”
    “You’re