Heat Wave Captain Cold Novels & Stories

Privacy was one of my top qualifications and I made that clear. There's a swimming pool outside if anyone is brave enough to sit in the heat and boil. No thank you. Even though the air conditioner takes the inside temperature down into the low seventies, it's too damn hot. The short trips I take outside to get in and out of my vehicle drive me the craziest. The heat is heavy like a wool blanket and leaches the water from my body. Who in their right mind would live in this godforsaken wasteland without someone holding a gun to their head?

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.

"Don't ever test me on my ice again, Captain." He didn't answer. He took a single, slow step toward me, the steel of his skates cutting a deep, deliberate line into the frost. The heavy scent of cedar flared off him—a hot wave that pushed past my visor and filled my mouth. My lungs rebelled, choking on the raw authority of it. The entire arena remained frozen, waiting for the captain to strike me down for the blatant disrespect.

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.

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."

Thorne. Captain of the team that now owned my contract. The man whose championship trophy I'd stolen with a last-second, impossible goal three months ago. He looked even bigger up close, a mountain of muscle and simmering rage barely contained in a Vipers t-shirt and track pants. His ice-blue eyes locked onto mine, and the air grew thick, heavy with the promise of violence. "Valdez," he said, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the floor. "Welcome to hell."