Page 56 of Power Term

Wire held between two fingers, I begin methodically stripping a red cord, careful to not scrape the copper wiring beneath. A spark and zap pops, jolting a bolt of electricity all the way up my arm. The wooden support beam for the stair slams into my spine as I’m shot backward, cursing. Eyeing the wire like it’s a coiled snake, I sluggishly push to a crouch and start on the next wire. Again a bolt of electric current lashes through my fingers and up my arm, though this time I stay upright on my one foot like a badass, indicating I’ve hit the mark.

The thin sheet molds beneath my hands as I bunch it into a tight ball and cram it between two studs, situating it behind the exposed wires. Pinching the two wires between my fingers, I carefully guide the exposed sides until they’re only a hairbreadth away from one another.

“Fuck, I hope this works.” Grimacing and leaning my face as far away as possible, I offer up one final prayer to anyone who’s listening and press the two exposed live wires together.

Blue sparks crackle and brighten. Powerful electrical currents surge up my arm and through my body. The force propels me back a couple of feet, my back once again colliding with the wooden stud with a crack. Tingles scurry along my skin while literal shimmering stars dance in my vision.

“Whoa.” I cough, gripping my chest and digging the heel of my palm into my sternum. “I think my heart stopped for a second.”

“Don’t worry, I know mouth-to-mouth,” Randi’s quiet voice says, sounding closer than it should. Chin to my shoulder, I find her standing just a foot behind me, arm cradling her waist.

“You know what I’ve heard works better?” I cough again. Each breath feels singed and too warm to be normal.

“Do I even want to know?”

Lips numb my attempt at a smirk fails. “Mouth to dick works even better.”

“Are you suggesting blow jobs save lives?”

I nod. “We should make that a slogan.”

The faint scent of burning fabric turns me back to the wires that almost killed me. Finger slightly shaking, I point at the small tendril of smoke swirling upward. “Look at that. It worked.”

Maneuvering around the beams Randi squats in front of the smoldering embers. Her back rises and falls as she blows a steady stream of air. Over and over she fans the small flame until a soft glow brightens the shadows cast by the ascending wooden stairs above us.

Sitting back on her heels, she glances over her shoulder. “Now what?”

A commotion above us has us both freezing. Heavy feet stop, and shouts and the sounds of a scuffle vibrate down the wall. I hold a tight breath, waiting for the door to open.

“It’s not working fast enough.” Fingertips to the ground, I shove to stand. “We need to give it time to really catch and a flame to build, but if they look down here and find us gone, all of this work was a waste.”

“You’re suggesting we go back to where they left us?” A deep line forms between her brows, her focus on the bed they dumped her on.

“But this time we won’t be tied up. I can fight back when they come at me, catch them off guard.”

“Wecan fight back,” she corrects.

“You’re hurt. I fight back. I’ve trained for this. I’ve done this. Let me do what I do best, Mess.”

“And what’s that?”

“Neutralize the threat by any means possible.” That lust-filled fire once again flares in her hazel eyes. “I love that violence turns you on, baby. We’re perfect for each other, you and me.”

“Despite your sweaty feet,” she adds with a smirk.

I glance down to the offending foot. “Unless you want to bat for the other team, you’ll always be with someone with sweaty feet. Now come on, we need to hurry.”

At the bed, I ease her down to the bare floral print mattress. The grimace of pain that flashes across her face before she can control her reaction stokes the rage already burning bright. Before, I tempered that need for violence, the need for revenge, because I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it tied up.

But now I’m not.

Now I’m free and able to protect my soul’s other half.

The spot under the stairs has a thin trail of smoke coming from the burnt sheet, but it’s still not enough to offer the concealment we need to even the odds. I scan the room for what feels like the hundredth time in search of any accelerant that will turn the small flame into a roaring inferno.

No fluid containers, no cleaning supplies.

The only thing in this room is the bed frame, mattress, and chair.

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