Page 91 of Healing the Heart

But she wasn’t. She could smell coffee brewing. Axyl was here to protect her.

Still dark out, and way too early to get up when she had a wide-open schedule, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

She got up just before noon, made herself scrambled eggs and him a chicken salad sandwich.Axyl wasn’t nearly as talkative when in protector mode. She barely got two words out of him. He checked the security feeds on his phone then made rounds at all the windows. Then rinse and repeat, ad nauseam.

Giving tours to newbie subs at a BDSM club was fun stuff. This was business, which he obviously took seriously. It was a good thing for her, the hunted client, but it made time drag by endlessly.

Fiona sat in Noah’s big comfy chair in his office, trying to focus on her book, a dry political biography she thought would be more interesting than the medical references and war historicals on his shelves.

With a sigh, she closed it, and stared at his bookcases—two of them, both packed to the gills with hardcovers and paperbacks. “And not a mystery or spicy romance among them—what a waste.”

The high-pitched wail of an alarm startled her so much she jolted out of her chair. She must have thrown her book because it landed with a thud on the floor across the room, which also jarred her.

When Axyl strode quickly past her door, Fiona jumped up and trailed after him. “Is that a fire alarm?”

“It sounds like it,” he replied on his way to the front door.

He laid his hand flat on the panel and tested the knob.

“Are they hot?”

Before he answered, an eerie silence encompassed the apartment. The wailing alarm went quiet, and the AC and appliances weren’t humming.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“The power is out.” He pulled his phone out and swore beneath his breath. “I’ve got no signal. Check yours.”

She had to run back to the office to get it. When she returned, she shook her head. “Would the loss of power affect cell data? Because that’s out too.”

“Doubtful,” was his grim response.

“Wait. Noah has a landline phone in the kitchen.” She hurried that way and lifted the receiver from the wall mounted cradle—it was that old, not even a cordless—but she heard nothing.

“We should probably evacuate,” she said to his back, watching him at the door, testing it again.

Glancing over his shoulder, he made eye contact with her, his intense stare leaving no doubt there would be consequences for noncompliance, as he sternly instructed, “Do not move from that spot.”

She would have rolled her eyes at his bossiness if she wasn’t afraid this was an actual emergency and not a drill.

As soon as he cracked the door, dense smoke billowed into the room. It burned her eyes and nose, and her throat constricted, as if an invisible hand tightened its grip.

“We don’t have a choice,” Axyl stated, his voice laced with frustration, clearly unhappy with the situation.

With her wrist securely held in his hand, he led her out. He immediately crouched, directing, “Smoke rises. Stay low,” as he towed her toward the stairs at the end of the hall.

Other residents flooded the stairwell, carrying and dropping belongings they should have left behind. People and debris clogged their escape route along with the increasingly thick smoke, further slowing things down.

“Leave everything and go!” Axyl boomed, the authority in his voice getting immediate cooperation.

Amid the panic and chaos, a woman behind them cried out. Fiona glanced back and saw her collapsed on the third-floor landing, overcome by the smoke.

“Wait,” Fiona exclaimed, twisting to go back. “We have to help her.”

Axyl tugged on her hand and stated firmly, “We’ll send someone back for her. Right now, you are my priority.”

“But that might be too late. We can’t just leave her!” Determined, she jerked her hand out of his and raced up the steps.

“Dammit, Fiona,” she heard him bite out, but the sound of his heavy tread on the stairs told her he followed.

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