Heat Wave Captain Cold Novels & Stories

Not even a cold shower was helping. I opened the small window, and hoped that the cold winter air would help, but it was to no avail. I needed something more. So I sent him one last text with another plea for help. ME: Draven, I feel like I’m on fire. This is the worst heat wave yet. I took a cold shower, even opened the bathroom window for cold air. Nothing is cooling me off. Please help me. I heard him curse from the other room, and then my phone pinged.

She looked down at me as I lay on the floor, smoothing down her outfit. "Let that serve as a little reminder for you, Gwen," she threatened, her voice dripping with venom. "If you ever think about messing with me—Fanny Whitlock, the captain of the Phoenix cheer team, and the girlfriend to the hottest captain of the Nightclaws ice hockey team—I will make your life a living hell for the rest of the years you are stuck at this college. Remember your place." I slowly pushed myself up from the hardwood floor, my muscles aching. As I stood up, a single tear of frustration and pain slipped down my cheek.

Do you get it? I switch on the heater and I start stripping my clothes one by one as I walk towards the shower. I turn the valve left and the water starts flowing, at first the water is warm and then it gets hotter and hotter with every passing second and weirdly enough I don't mind. After a couple of minutes I have to leave the shower (sadly) because Jason keeps telling me that the food will get cold. I dry myself and apply some lotion on my body as I make my way towards the pile of clothes Jason had given me.

He’d cried over his mother’s death for most of the journey. “Hell, if I know. It has to be at least a hundred degrees in this metal box,” Captain Stuart said, before banging his feet against the panel door. “Hey! We’re cooking in here!” Was it hot? Lizzy couldn’t stop shivering. The captain yelled in frustration, and she studied his profile. They’d beaten him pretty badly when he’d kicked out at one of the mercenaries who’d groped at her chest. Go, Stuart. Her estimation of him rose a teensy bit.

He snapped a wrist shot into the top corner of the net so hard the black puck rattled violently inside the twine. Ethan slammed his stick against the plexiglass in celebration, cheering. Damon coasted backward, turning toward the stands to wipe sweat from his brow with his glove. His dark eyes scanned the perimeter until they locked onto me standing by the tunnel. Even from fifty feet away across a crowded ice rink, I saw his entire demeanor shift. The ruthless, cutthroat captain melted away. A tiny, quiet smile touched his lips—a private, subtle look meant entirely for me. My betraying heart gave a sudden, painful flutter. I couldn't help it. I smiled back.

I let out a heavy sigh, shifting my weight to stand up, but Jessica reached out and pressed both hands against my chest, pushing me firmly back into the sofa. “You look completely dead on your feet, Lu,” she murmured, her voice softening. “How about I grab you something cold to drink before you collapse?” At the mere mention of a drink, my throat burned with a dry ache, reminding me just how little water or food I’d had since driving across the state. “Make it something cold,” I muttered, leaning my head back against the cushion. “Sure thing,” Jessica replied, flashing me a slow, deliberate wink as she stood up. She returned a moment later holding an icy bottle of beer. “Here you go, papi. Y

“Purewater! Come now, don’t you want to sell me purewater, I want everything.” He said to her and she frowned before she walked slowly to his store, business was slow that day and she had not even sold much since morning and the cold sachet water was no longer cold. “It is not cold ooo.” She said to him.

"Loose cannon? Says the golden boy who hides behind daddy's name. Step up or get out of my way Ryder." Guys on the ice slowed down watching us. Coach blew the whistle but we ignored it. This had to look ugly. "You think you can talk to me like that?" I shouted pushing my chest into his. "I am the captain. I built this team. You are the new guy with a rap sheet longer than the season." Kade laughed right in my face that rough sound echoing. "Built this team? With what? Your perfect press conferences and your old man's dirty money? We all know the Ryders play dirty off the ice too."

🍆Crashing Waves🍆 The ocean roared as another wave slammed against the Malibu shore, spraying cold mist across my sun-kissed skin. I was lying on my towel in a tiny red bikini that barely covered anything, trying to read a book but failing miserably. My eyes kept drifting to him… the surfer who had been dominating the waves for the past hour. His name was Kai. I’d heard girls whispering it on the beach. Tall, tanned, ripped abs glistening with saltwater, messy sun-bleached hair, and a dangerous smile that made my thighs press together every time he looked my way.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: You Don't Touch What's Mine POV: Elias Voss The late morning sun gilded the city skyline outside Elias Voss’s office window, transforming steel and glass into a river of molten gold. It was a view he’d commanded for years, a symbol of dominion hard-won and fiercely guarded. Today, its beauty was lost on him. He stood motionless, a silhouette etched against the brilliance, his gaze fixed on a point far beyond the gleaming towers. His jaw was a hard line, clenched tight enough to ache. His mind, usually a whirlwind of strategy and calculation, was unnervingly still, honed to a razor’s edge. And beneath the controlled exterior, deep in his marrow, a familiar, glacial chill