Page 33 of Axe Marks the Spot

“I am right,” I banter back. “Are you ready to continue?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let me know how this sounds to you. Our daily check-ins on the messaging app will be nonnegotiable due to the virtual dynamic we’re establishing, but they do not have to be very long. You can start your daily journaling at an easy five minutes a day and will send your pages to me on Sunday before midnight. We’ll have the video calls once a week, but if you need to cancel because of a shift or because you’re in need of sleep, we can connect that day on the messaging app instead. How does that sound?”

“I th—” She stops herself again. “It sounds good, Sir.”

“A quick learner,” I commend. “Then that is what we’ll do.”

Again, I can’t see it, but I’d bet money Lindsey is blushing from my praise. The idea shouldn’t delight me as much as it does—at least, not beyond a Dominant receiving his sub’s submission—but it does.

I take a drink of my water to wet my dry mouth. “Now, on to Boundaries & Limitations.”

14

Lindsey

“DID YOU MEET SOMEONE?”

I look up from my phone at the hospitalist, Dr. March—or Billie, when we go by first names. One of her hands is on her round hip, and she’s smirking at me. I slip my phone in my pocket and pick up a clipboard from the nurse’s station desk.

“No, why would you think that?”

She snorts. “You’ve been glued to your phone every time I see you, and when we passed each other in the hall earlier, I said hi, but you didn’t hear me because you were engrossed in something on it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Nathan asked me a similar question the other day, and now Billie. I really suck at being discreet; I’m going to have to get better.

“Not a guy,” I say, which is technically true. Sir is not simply a guy—he’s a Dom. Officially my Dom after we finished our meeting and signed the agreement just after midnight last night. It’s still surreal to think about, but it happened. Which is why I’ve been glued to my phone.

“You sure?” she asks.

I look up from the clipboard. It’s an intake form for a patient in the waiting room. They have a stomachache and a runny nose, probably the stomach bug that’s been going around. That will be an easy one to take care of—fluids, electrolytes, maybe an anti-nausea medication.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say.

“Then what’s got you so interested?”

“I’m reading a new thriller,” I respond almost too easily. “Can’t put it down.”

Billie’s eyes narrow. “I love thrillers—what’s it called?”

I rack my brain for the name of Elijah Astor’s book, a semi-local here in town. I know it, but it’s the last thing I’ve been thinking about, and by the look on Billie’s face, she knows it, too.

“Dr. March, you’re needed in room three,” another nurse calls from down the hall.

Billie walks past me and grins. “Text me the title of that book. By the look on your face, it seems titillating.”

If she’d stuck around to see my reaction, she’d have seen my blush. The book, aka my messages with Sir, are very titillating, but not in the way she’s thinking.

I set down the clipboard, grateful today so far hasn’t been as busy as it was yesterday. But I’m only a couple of hours into my shift, and some people are just waking up for their day since it’s just after nine AM. It could get busier, but it’s hard to know when you live in a small town. Some days we have nobody, and other days? It’s as if the entire town gets hurt and sick.

Before I go and get my next patient, I take out my phone and check the messaging app I downloaded last night upon Sir’s request. There’s a new message from him, and my stomach flips upon seeing it. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to seeing notifications from him or if I’ll always be excited and nervous when they pop up. In this case, I’m more nervous.

Why? Because I sent my morning check-in right before the extra shift I took started at seven, even though I was supposed to message him at 5:15 AM. I’d agreed to text him as soon as I woke up, confirming I was up and starting my new routine on time. It sounded easy enough when we were negotiating it last night, but apparently, not so much.

I was to wake up at least one-and-a-half hours before work or wherever I needed to be for the day. Stretch for ten minutes, meditate for ten minutes, have my coffee, shower, get ready, pack my meals for the day, then go to work or do whatever else was on my schedule for the day. Then at night, I’d reserve an hour before I went to sleep for winding down. That could include a bath, my nightly check-in with Sir, and my five minutes of journaling. I still had a chance to get the evening routine right, but I’d screwed up the morning one royally.

I attempt to shove down my embarrassment along with my nerves as I open Sir’s message.