One Night in a Storm: Savage Kinksters Book 1 Page 2

  “Wow! You look different.”

  She gives me a hard stare.

  Oh, shit. I should not have said that.

  “Oh, wow! I mean…you just…” I feel my face heat up, and I can’t backpedal fast enough. “I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. I really haven’t thought about high school for a while.”

  “I try to block it out myself.”

  “Don’t we all.” We both chuckle, but it feels awkward and strained.

  I haven’t kept up with too many people from my high school years, but those I have seen, much like myself, look about the same. I never would have recognized Kas from her high school days from her demeanor alone. Yes, she looks different as well, but she’s keeping eye contact, speaking easily, and has an air of confidence that was never present before.

  “So, you’re done here?” Kas asks.

  “Yeah, I’m heading out.” I still feel shitty for how she took my remark. I’m sure she’s heard it all before. People who go through such a drastic transition probably hear such things all the time, and I don’t want to be that guy—the one who suddenly finds the girl attractive because she’s lost weight and cleared up her acne. “Do you have a ride home?”

  “I’m walking,” she says. “The bus stops at the top of the hill. It’s not far.”

  “Where do you live?” I ask before I realize how creepy the question sounds. “I mean, if we’re going the same direction, I can walk with you, if you like. Get wet together, at least.” I look away quickly, wondering why I’m suddenly hit with verbal diarrhea, but I don’t have time to psychoanalyze myself right at this moment. “I just mean, it’s kind of nasty out there, and there’s no telling how long the bus will take. We could share an Uber or something.”

  “Um…sure.” She glances at the bookshelf and then back to me. “I need a few more minutes though. Is that okay?”

  “No problem at all. I’ll wait for you on the bench near the door.”

  “Cool. I won’t be long.” She goes back to the books as if I’m no longer there.

  I lick my lips and keep her in my peripheral vision as I move out of the aisle between the shelves, focusing on the smooth flesh of her neck and upper arms. I wish I could see more of her skin. I wish I could mark her skin. Yeah, she’d look really good in jute.

  I close my eyes and consider willing the thoughts away, but they’re really pleasant thoughts. I let my mind wander a bit more until I start to get hard. I take a cleansing breath and start walking toward the door, pulling out my phone as I go.

  I find the Uber app easily enough, but I haven’t used it in forever, and it doesn’t appear to be working.

  Outside, a flash of lightning illuminates the parking lot.

  “Holy shit!” My eyes bug out as I take a step back.

  “What is it?” Kas comes out from between the rows and tilts her head.

  “Look outside!”

  “It’s too dark. I can’t see anything.”

  “Wait for the lightning.”

  Mother Nature doesn’t make us wait long.

  “Oh my God!” Kas’s eyes go wide. “The whole parking lot is flooded!”

  “It has to be a good foot deep out there. Is there a back door?”

  “Yes,” Kas says, “but the pond is up to the back of the building. It might not be any better.”

  We make our way to the back only to find the water is even higher. The pond has overflowed its banks, and water is seeping in under the door. Another lightning flash illuminates the flooded road.

  “Well, you work here, right?” I ask as we walk back to the front door. “Is there another way out?”

  “I…I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Kas looks around the room like she’s expecting a secret door to appear. “I think we should call someone.”

  “My buddy has a raised Jeep,” I tell her. “It should be able to get through the water. He’s working, but maybe he can escape for a few minutes to rescue us.”

  I pull up my contacts and hit Ivan’s phone number. All I get is a weird, buzzing sound.

  “Is your phone working?” I ask.

  “I think so.” Kas pulls her phone out and looks at the screen. “Well, maybe not. It says ‘no service.’”

  “Mine, too.”

  “I guess the storm is blocking the signal.” Kas glances toward the windows near the doors. “Maybe the signal is better outside.”

  “Maybe.” I pull the door open and take a short step outside. The water is rising, but hasn’t quite reached the door yet. The pounding rain nearly deafens me, but I can just make out sirens in the distance. The phone still doesn’t have a signal, so I step back inside and close the door so I can hear myself think. “No luck.”

  “Shit,” Kas mutters under her breath, then swivels her head toward the desk. “Wait! There’s a landline!”

  As she turns to head for the phone, a blinding flash of light is followed by the most incredible explosion I’ve ever heard. The lights flicker out, the windows rattle, and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Kas gasps and looks back at me with shock and fear.

  Just like the stories always say, everything happens fast but still feels like slow motion.

  Kas switches her gaze from me to the window, and her face goes white. A second explosion, a sharp, cracking noise, and Kas’ expression makes me turn my attention back outside.

  With additional splintering sounds and a spray of sparks, the utility pole next to the street begins to fall toward the library’s entrance.

  “Cree! Get away from the doors!”

  Chapter 2—Kas

  Even as I scream, my mind goes numb, and my body becomes paralyzed. The only sensation I register is the ache in my arm where Cree’s fingers dig into it. He’s pulling me backward, away from the spray of glass that flies through the air as the utility pole crashes into the glass door.

  This is not how I imagined my evening.

  This was supposed to be the usual weeknight—studying at the Backup. This was to be a night of brain research, specifically on the hypothalamus. I have a neurology test on Tuesday, and acing it gets me that much closer to med school.

  I was not expecting my high school crush to be here at all, especially not alone with me.

  Credence Cord, high school superstar—not. Jock—not. Intellectual—not. Stoner—not. He wasn’t any of those things. He hung out on the fringes of all the groups, which is why I liked him. He didn’t belong, and neither did I.

  I’m shocked he didn’t recognize me—not.

  Okay, enough with the nots. I sound like my 1980s era mother, and I’m annoying myself. It’s a habit I practice intentionally to keep myself from falling back into old, anxiety-ridden patterns. The more I annoy myself, the more I don’t think about being panic-stricken and anxious.

  The important parts of current events are as follows: a combination of my life possibly being in danger and the fact that Credence Cord is touching me.

  I might be in shock.

  Cree drags me backward, away from the chaos and the noise that my brain doesn’t seem to want to process. I wonder if my hypothalamus, which is supposed to be kicking in right about now with some kind of life-saving fear response, is broken.

  I feel frozen, and not just because the broken door and window have let in the cold wind and rain. As I wait for either fight or flight to take over, Cree hauls me behind the front desk and away from the glass that litters the floor.

  Emergency lighting kicks in with little trails of red marking the way to the exits. In the corners, slightly brighter, white lights provide just enough illumination to keep from tripping over things but not enough to see well.

  We duck down as another crash echoes through the library. In the back of my head, I begin to count slowly. It’s a technique taught to me by a high school therapist.

  One…two…three…four…

  Focusing on numbers gives the back of my brain something to do other than panicking, and I manage to find my voice again though I can’t
manage to say anything useful.

  “Holy shit,” I mumble.

  “Holy shit is right,” Cree replies. “That was close.”

  Twelve…thirteen…fourteen…

  Cree’s still holding onto my arm, and it’s so distracting that counting becomes difficult. I can feel the tension of his entire body through his fingers on my arm. We wait, crouched behind the counter, until the crashing noises stop. Cree releases my arm, but I can still feel the memory of his touch as we peek toward the demolished entrance. I can only barely make out shapes in the darkness.

  “It’s still sparking,” I say, pointing toward the broken door and the downed power line.

  “Maybe we should go for the back door anyway, pond and all. Might be better to get soaked than to stay here with the sparks.”

  “Are you sure?” A new, different panic threatens me.

  Thirty-five…thirty-six…

  “This place is going to fill up with water,” Cree says. “I think getting out and heading to higher ground is our best bet, even if we are outside.”

  “Okay.” I swallow hard, trying to keep panic from seeping into my voice. The very thought of water filling the building leaves my body numb and my mind blank.

  Ten feet before we get to the door, we step in a large puddle of water. I jump back immediately, stifling a gasp by covering my mouth with my hand.

  “Not a good sign,” Cree mutters.

  Lightning flashes, and through the window we can see what used to be a small duck pond that now looks like a lake. Though the pond has overflowed before, I’ve never seen anything like this. The water is so high, I wonder if it has reached the road on the other side of the valley.

  Sixty… Sixty-one…

  “Cree?” My voice quakes with fear. There is no way I can hide this from him much longer. It might be better to give him a little bit of information so he won’t keep pushing for a waterlogged exit.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not a good swimmer.” I can’t swim—at all. I used to be able to, but now I can only tread water for about two minutes before I get myself too freaked out to do anything but sink.

  “I don’t think that’s going to be the biggest problem,” he says. “The water is up to the door, and the door opens out. There is no way we’re going to be able to push it open with that much water pressing against it. We obviously can’t go back to the front with live power lines thrashing all over the floor. Maybe we should try one of the windows.”

  “I…I don’t know.” I can’t imagine convincing myself to jump out a window into water, but I have no idea how to tell him this. I will sound like a complete moron. I remember the downed power line and try that approach instead. “Most of the windows are stained glass, and they don’t open. I’m not sure if getting into the water out there is safe. The power line isn’t that far away, and they always tell you not to go into water near downed power lines.”

  “We’re standing in that water now.”

  “But you never know once you get out there.” I keep counting in my head, getting close to one hundred now. “The whole pond is flooded. More lines could be down, and if any of them are touching the water, that could be fatal. We might not be able to tell what’s electrified and what isn’t.”

  “So, we’re stuck here?”

  “I think we are.” My voice quivers again, and I have to blink back tears.

  “Higher ground?” he asks.

  I’ve lost count. I can’t remember if I am at one-twenty-five or one-thirty-five. My knees begin to shake, and my fingers start to clench and unclench without my permission. I debate starting the count over when Cree asks again.

  “Is there a way to get up higher?”

  I have to push the numbers aside and think a minute, trying to remember the layout of the library I should know like the back of my hand, but I suddenly don’t. I have to focus just to remember the few side rooms turned into offices on the main floor, but their doors are old and certainly won’t hold back water. Where else could we go?

  “There’s a staircase in the back that leads up to the second level,” I tell him. “It should be dry there.”

  We head up the stairs to what used to be the choir loft of the chapel. In the dark corners, stacks of books line the walls, yet to be sorted or labeled, and a railing runs along one side of the area, overlooking the main room below. A large, stained-glass window dominates the wall to the right of the railing. I can barely see the blue, green, and purple pieces that make up a Garden of Eden scene, complete with a snake and an apple.

  I place my hands on the rail and look down. I can hear water flowing into the building, but it’s too dark to see clearly. Every once in a while, another spark lights up.

  “All those books,” I whisper. I grip the rail, tightening every muscle in my body to keep tears from falling. I start counting again.

  “They’re going to get wet,” Cree says.

  “Most of them are irreplaceable.” Seventeen…eighteen…nineteen…

  “I hope those are on higher shelves.”

  They aren’t. I continue counting to keep from thinking about it. I’ve always felt an affinity for dusty old books and the secrets inside of them, and the thought of so many of them being destroyed is heartbreaking.

  “I suppose the water will keep the sparks from setting a fire,” Cree says. “That’s a bonus.”

  “Is it?”

  “Better than the alternative.”

  “How high do you think the water will get?” I ask. I know he doesn’t have any real answers for me, but talking helps, so I’ll keep talking. As long as I can focus on something other than the dark pit in my stomach, maybe I won’t give myself an ulcer. Again.

  “Depends on how much longer it rains,” Cree replies with a shrug. “Also depends on how long it takes for someone to realize we have a problem here.”

  “The power company knows when one of its lines goes down,” I say. “They’ll send a crew out to fix it, and they’ll find us.”

  “Yeah, but when?”

  “I don’t know. It seems like news crews are always on the scenes of natural disasters pretty quickly though, right?”

  “Even with the rain still coming down?”

  As if answering, the rain pounds harder on the roof, and the wind whips around the building in great gusts.

  “What do we do?” I ask in a low voice.

  I’m terrified, and I don’t want him to know how scared I really am. Social anxiety has always plagued me, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I always knew it was my own doing. That didn’t make it any easier, but ultimately, I knew I wasn’t in any real danger. That’s all out the window now, and my brain doesn’t seem to be able to process what’s going on.

  “Hang tight.” Cree gives me a big smile, and despite the situation, my stomach does a flip-flop. “Your co-worker knows you’re here. A friend of mine knows I’m here. Eventually, they’ll send someone to find us, but we might be here a while. You hungry?”

  Cree sits down on the rug and opens his backpack. He produces two energy bars and smiles as he holds one out to me.

  I feel the effect of his calm demeanor and stop counting long enough to take his offering.

  “Boy Scouts?” I ask as I take a bite. “You’re prepared for anything?”

  “Lots of late-night studying,” he replies. “These are much cheaper meals than eating out and better for you than hitting the vending machines.”

  It makes sense. Cree’s family lived in the trailer park just outside of our hometown, and he has to be struggling financially. I have to stop myself from offering him whatever cash is in my purse.

  “Shit!”

  “What?” Cree asks.

  “My purse,” I say. “It still down there.”

  “That sucks.”

  I feel intense pressure around my heart at the very thought of losing my purse. Aside from the usual ID and credit cards, my purse contains a very pricy Hermès clutch. Inside the front pocket of the clutch are my
anxiety pills which I desperately need right now.

  “I need it!” I look down over the edge to try to locate the seat where I had been studying.

  “The water is still coming in,” Cree says. “You shouldn’t go back down there. Whatever is in your purse isn’t going to do much good right now, and it can all be replaced.”

  His logic is flawless, but it’s my purse. Medication, money, house keys, and one of the very few pictures of my brother I still have—they’re all in my purse. Of course it can all be replaced, but not easily, and he doesn’t know about the pills or the pictures. I can’t let them get wet and destroyed.

  “It will only take me a minute.”

  I rush down the dark staircase, trying to remember exactly where I had left my treasured purse. I’m pretty sure it’s on the chair next to where I had been studying. When the library is busy, I’ll put it behind the counter, but tonight there was no one around to bother with it.

  I make my way to the study desks near the anatomy books. Relief washes over me when I see I left it on the chair, not on the floor where it would have gotten soaked. I grab it from the chair and look up at the open balcony where Cree is watching me. I hold the purse up high, and Cree gives me a thumbs-up.

  A rumble of thunder is followed by a completely different rumble.

  Without any warning, a loud crash echoes through the library, and shards of stained glass fly through the air off to my right. Immediately after, water flows rapidly from the broken window, crashing into tables and chairs and scattering them about. As the water reaches the shelves, they begin to sway.

  “Kas, get out of there!”

  The water is up to my knees and rising. I can’t think straight. I hear another window break, but it’s too dark to tell if all the water is coming from the windows, the broken front door, or the back entrance. My mind hyperfocuses on the direction of the water instead of the immediate danger of the shelves falling from the force of the churning water.

  I look from the doorway to the stairs as water touches the crotch of my jeans, making odd, cold tingles run through my legs at the most ridiculous time. I begin to feel weightless, and another wave of panic hits me as I scramble onto the desk to get out of the water.