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Good god. If this was the basement, how does the rest of the resort look?
“Probably not good,” Asher answered solemnly.
“I just hope there aren’t any casualties,” I whispered. My heart hurt at the thought. I may have, at times, appeared callous when it came to death, but that was only when it involved me. It was entirely different when death concerned others. Perhaps it was selfish thinking, but I couldn’t bear to witness anymore death. After Buttlicker (I really should figure out his real name), I had thought I could brave anything. After all, it was my fault he was dead. Even if I hadn’t pulled the trigger, he, no doubt, was in the hospital looking for me. Did his unintentional death by my hand make me a monster, even if his intentions for seeking me out were malicious at best?
I chose not to look too closely at that answer.
“Once the fire trucks come and free us, we should gain a better understanding of what happened,” Calax responded vaguely, his deep voice causing my skin to tingle. Like most things in my life, I chose to ignore the feelings that brewed inside me at the sound of his voice.
Safer. Easier.
Healthier.
“There’s a bunch of people in the next room over,” Asher said from above me. He pointed over his shoulder. “Should we head over there?”
“Is it a good idea to move Calax and Addie?” Tam asked.
“Is it a good idea to stay in this room, where the walls and ceiling looks like they’ll fall down on us at any moment?” Ronan countered. I didn’t even have to look to know that Tam would be blushing.
Lifting myself onto my elbows, with only a slight grimace of pain (yay me!), I addressed the boys with a smile. “Would one of you gentlemen do me the honor of giving me a piggyback ride?”
“I’ll do it,” Calax said instantly, and I snorted.
“You shouldn’t even be walking, let alone carrying my heavy ass.”
He opened his mouth to retort, no doubt against my claim of being heavy, when Ronan bent down before me.
“Hop on, Princess. Your majestic steed awaits.”
“Why thank you, kind knight,” I said with feigned reverence. Ryder and Asher helped position me on Ronan’s back, with extra care to not disturb the bone protruding from my leg or the injuries on my back. I clung to Ronan like a monkey, arms around his neck and my good leg wrapped around his muscular torso.
I could feel my pants dropping down, and I hoped I wasn’t displaying the crack Ronan liked so much.
As if he read my mind, or heard me, more than likely, Asher leaned forward to whisper in my ear.
“Coast is clear.”
“I’m not flashing anyone?” I asked, wanting to clarify. Asher blushed but shook his head no.
One small relief.
The procession to the next room was slow, mainly because of my occasional whimper of pain. I tried to suppress the sound, I honestly did, but certain movements would jar my body in a way that felt like licks of fire kissing my skin. The boys would halt at the sound, trying to reassure themselves that I was alright. I tried to tell them that they didn’t need to coddle me, but that only resulted in a glare from Declan and a shake of the head by Calax.
“How long do you think we’re going to be in here?” Tamson asked quietly. He was currently on rear duty - which I translated to making sure my ass didn’t hit the floor. It was a surprisingly difficult feat. My arms were weak, and my body ached.
I think I just needed someone to permanently stand behind me, holding my butt up so I wouldn’t slide down Ronan’s body. Not in a perverted way or anything, but in a completely normal and platonic, non-sisterly-
“What the hell are you thinking about?” Ronan asked me.
“My ass,” I responded immediately before I could think things through. I mentally cursed myself when I heard groans mixed in with laughter. Damn it. No butts allowed in conversation, Addie. We’ve been over this.
“Anyway,” Calax said gruffly, averting attention to him and away from me. I could’ve kissed him...but not in a sexual way. A friend way. A friend that wasn’t a sister way.
Stop. Thinking. Addie.
“I think the School will send people as soon as they can. I guarantee you that Sarge is already here,” Calax continued, ignoring my outburst.
I fixated on the way he said school, as if it was in all capital letters. What could a preppy boarding school do against a tornado?
