Safe with Him

Dear Readers,

I originally wrote this story more than ten years ago and recently decided to dust it off, give it a little polish, and finally share it with you.

Unlike most of my dark romances, this one is lighter, sweeter, and a little bit funny. I hope Amy and Dylan will make you smile and provide a pleasant break from the darker stories I usually write.

Happy reading!

Kyrin Brynes

Amy woke with a violent start, though for several disoriented seconds she couldn't understand what had pulled her from sleep.

Her heart was already racing, pounding hard enough to make her temples ache. A dull pressure sat behind her eyes, and every breath felt strangely difficult, as though someone had draped a heavy blanket over her face while she slept. Still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she frowned and shifted beneath her covers, trying to make sense of the growing sense of wrongness that seemed to surround her.

The air felt unnaturally thick. Every breath required effort, and when a cough escaped before she could stop it, the sharp burn that followed instantly cleared the remaining fog from her mind.

Confused, Amy forced her eyes open.

At first she thought the room was dark, but as her vision slowly adjusted she realized that darkness wasn't the problem. Dense gray smoke filled the room from floor to ceiling, swallowing the familiar outlines of her tiny bedroom. The dresser against the wall was little more than a vague silhouette, while the chair beside the window appeared as a shadow drifting through the haze.

For several long seconds her exhausted mind struggled to process what she was seeing. Then the smell reached her—a horrible mixture of burning wood, melting plastic, and scorched fabric—and the realization hit with terrifying clarity.

The apartment was on fire.

Terror crashed through her hard enough to steal what little breath she had left.

Amy jerked upright, immediately regretting the movement. The room spun violently around her, and a brutal coughing fit tore through her chest. Every cough felt as though it scraped against her lungs with jagged edges, leaving her throat raw and burning.

"Oh God..."

The words barely emerged.

Her own voice sounded weak and unfamiliar.

Panic surged through her as she threw back the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. She tried to stand, but her knees immediately buckled beneath her weight. The moment her head rose higher into the smoke, breathing became almost impossible. Another violent coughing fit seized her body, and she dropped back down before the dizziness could send her crashing to the floor.

Somewhere, years ago, she'd heard that smoke rose and that the safest air could often be found near the floor. Clinging desperately to the memory, she rolled off the mattress.

The impact jarred her shoulder painfully, but she barely noticed.

For several seconds she lay there with her cheek pressed against the cool hardwood floor, desperately trying to draw air into her burning lungs. The difference wasn't dramatic, but it was enough. The air felt slightly cooler and marginally clearer than it had over the bed, giving her just enough relief to keep moving.

Tears streamed continuously down her face as she began crawling toward the bedroom door. The smoke stung her eyes relentlessly, and every breath felt as though it was tearing her throat apart. Smoke seemed to fill every part of her body. It burned in her nose, her mouth, and her lungs until even her skin felt hot.

The distance between her and the door couldn't have been more than ten feet, yet it felt endless. Dark spots danced across her vision, her arms trembled beneath her weight, and the pounding inside her skull grew worse with every passing second.

By the time her fingers finally found the doorknob, she was shaking so badly that she nearly missed it.

With a trembling hand, she twisted the handle and pulled the door open.

The moment it cracked apart, orange light exploded into the room and a wave of heat slammed into her face.

Amy froze.

The living room was already burning.

Flames crawled across one wall and licked greedily along the ceiling while thick black smoke poured through the apartment in suffocating waves. The sound of crackling wood and snapping beams filled the air, leaving no doubt that the fire had already spread far beyond anything she could escape on her own.

A frightened cry escaped her before she could stop it.

She slammed the door shut again as quickly as she could, her shaking hands nearly losing their grip on the handle.

The horrifying truth settled over her immediately.

Her only exit was gone.

The fire had already cut off the path to the front door, leaving her trapped inside the smoke-filled bedroom.

Another coughing fit doubled her over. Her chest felt tighter now, every breath smaller than the last, and she found herself struggling to draw enough air into her lungs.

Desperate, Amy turned toward the bedroom window.

The narrow window overlooked the parking lot behind the building. Years ago the structure had been a roadside motel before someone converted it into a collection of small apartments. She rented the smallest unit and had always loved its cozy simplicity.

Tonight it felt like a coffin.

Gathering every ounce of strength she had left, Amy crawled toward the window. Through the smoke she could just make out flashing lights beyond the glass.

Red.

Blue.

White.

Relief nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Firefighters.

They were already here.

They just didn't know she was trapped.

Her gaze drifted toward the nightstand beside her bed.

The glass of water.

She always left one there before sleeping.

Her fingers felt numb as she reached for it. Even lifting the glass seemed difficult. Her body felt heavier with every passing second, as though the smoke was steadily draining away her strength.

A fresh wave of dizziness washed over her.

For one terrifying moment she thought she might lose consciousness before she could do anything.

"No," she whispered.

Forcing herself forward, Amy drew back her arm and hurled the glass at the window.

The crash was deafening.

Glass exploded outward in a shower of glittering fragments, and cold night air immediately rushed through the opening. The sudden breeze felt glorious against her skin.

Amy slid down against the wall beneath the shattered window and pulled part of the blanket over her nose and mouth. It offered little protection against the smoke that continued to pour into the room, but instinct made her cling to it anyway.

Her eyelids felt unbearably heavy.

The flashing emergency lights beyond the broken glass blurred together until they became little more than streaks of color. The pounding in her head seemed strangely distant now, as though it belonged to someone else.

Then, through the ringing in her ears, she heard shouting outside.

"There!"

A man's voice carried through the night.

"Second floor!"

Another voice answered almost immediately.

"Someone's in there!"

Relief swept through her so powerfully that it nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes.

They had seen the broken window.

They knew she was trapped.

And, judging by the urgency in those voices, they were already trying to reach her.

As darkness slowly crept into the corners of her vision, she fixed her attention on the sound of those distant voices and held onto the fragile hope they offered.

The firefighters were coming.

All she had to do was stay conscious long enough for them to find her.

With that thought firmly in mind, Amy let her head rest against the floor and silently prayed they wouldn't be too late.