Chapter Ten
DORIAN
Ibundle Lisette into my truck and floor it toward the old Victorian.
Beside me, my girl is shivering from her damp hair, wet clothes, the cold… and probably anxiety. If I’m right, her earlier decision not to sell just had drastic consequences.
The sky glows orange the closer we get.
My gut clenches with dread. I hope I’m wrong, but the tingle on my neck tells me I’m not. I spent too many years honing that instinct for danger in Special Forces.
We turn onto her street and see the house ablaze in the darkness.
Lisette lets out a helpless cry and leans forward. “No!”
A third of the Victorian is engulfed in flames. Two fire trucks light up the night sky with flashing lights while paramedics stand by, ready to act.
I park the truck at the edge of the madness and press the keys into Lisette’s hands. “Stay here!” Then I grab my med kit from behind the seat and run for the scene.
“Dorian!” Lisette calls, followed by the slam of the truck door.
Fuck! I knew she wouldn’t stay put. I turn on my heel and point at her. “You stay out of harm’s way. Stay in the truck. Or by the truck… just don’t fucking move from that spot.”
She crosses her arms and glares at me. “If you get hurt, I’m coming after you!”
We’re shouting across forty feet of emergency crew, threatening each other for their own safety. God damn I love her.
I grab the closest person—an EMT whose nametag says Carl—and point toward Lisette. “Make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”
His eyes widen, and he starts to tremble.
Probably shouldn’t have hauled him up onto his tiptoes to yell in his face, but I’m more concerned for Lisette’s safety than his feelings. “She’s your responsibility.”
“Y-yes, Beast.”
I release him, take one last look at my beautiful woman, and sprint toward the chaos.
People are shouting over the roar of the fire as sirens wail and radios squawk. Several firemen aim thick hoses at the house, spraying streams of water to fight the flames.
Something cracks ominously.
Suddenly the turret roof caves in with a deafening roar, sending a shower of sparks in all directions.
Firemen shout, and one comes stumbling out of the house.
What the fuck? Why was anyone in there? I grab the nearest firefighter and demand an answer.
“Had to make sure the house was clear,” he yells back.
“Walton’s in there!” Someone shouts.
The commander calls for him over the radio, getting only static for a reply.
They’re going to lose him. There’s too much smoke, and they don’t know the house. Not like I do.
I grab another firefighter. “Where was Walton?”
“By the turret.”
Fuck. I grab his oxygen canister and mask, ripping it away and slinging it over my shoulder along with my bag.
“Hey, you can’t—”
Whatever he says is lost as I barrel through the emergency responders. Several shout after me, ordering someone to “Stop the Beast!” Others wisely scramble out of my way, eyes wide with fear.
The house creaks around me as I take the steps three at a time and plunge into the dark interior. I hear a shout for Walton, put on the oxygen mask, and follow the sound.
A fireman is hunched over, coughing in the living room.
“Get out!” I bellow, pointing his body toward the foyer. “Go! I’ll find him.”
“Beast?”
I shove the man toward the door and sprint for the stairs. The heat is immense, and the third floor is engulfed in flames. On the landing to the second floor, I look left and see the scene below. Because the entire side of the house is gone, dropped with the turret below.
I’m glad Florine didn’t live to see this.
Shoving the thought aside, I call for Walton and search the nearby rooms. The bathroom door doesn’t budge. I lean back and kick it open, splintering the wood in the frame. Beyond, a firefighter has collapsed on the ground.
I drop to my knees beside him, noting the burns. His oxygen mask was knocked loose when something hit him. He must have crawled in here for safety. It might have saved his life.
His vitals are thready, but there.
I rip my mask off, giving him a few precious seconds of air, then toss him over my shoulder and run like hell. Beams crash down behind me, and a wall of flames goes up far too fucking close. I reach the stairs just as fire licks them from somewhere below.
Shit. I don’t stop to think twice. We either make it or we don’t.
I jump as many stairs as I can, slamming into the wall, and grab the stair rail to stay upright.
Walton groans.
“Hang on,” I tell him.
The steps behind me break and fall away.
I race down the rest and spot the front door ahead. Something else cracks. Heat sears the air, and orange fills my vision. Still I run, holding my patient close.
We stumble out the door onto the porch. I’m temporarily blinded from the smoke and heat and miss the steps. We pitch forward and land in a heap on the hard ground.
Fuck that hurt.
EMTs and firemen swarm around us. I wave them toward Walton and suck in a couple lungfuls of oxygen from the mask, coughing hard.
I’ll have a bit of coughing from smoke inhalation, but saving Walton was worth it.
When I shove to my feet, I realize I’m standing alone. They’ve given me a ten-foot perimeter.
“I didn’t understand,” the closest EMT says.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. “What?”
“Why they called you Beast. Holy shit, dude.”
I blink. Was that a compliment?
I don’t have time to sort it out, because suddenly there’s a beautiful woman slamming into my chest. She hugs me tight, then leans back and punches my arm. Then hugs me again.
“I could have lost you!” she growls, baring her little teeth at me.
I bite back a grin, knowing now is not the time to tell her she’s fucking adorable, and pull her into my arms. “Never. You’re mine.”
She always has been.