Page 18 of Kidnapped Forced Mate

“You have her locked up?!” he exclaims, the shell of his ears reddening the way they do whenever he becomes angry.

I know, because I react the same way when I'm furious.

I quickly scan our surroundings to make sure he hasn't drawn attention to us. “She hasn't exactly warmed up to me.”

Stryker lifts a questioning brow. “And why is that?”

I shrug, unable to bring myself to that part.

“This is unbelievable,” he clicks his tongue. “We agreed that using force isn't the way,” he says disappointedly, rising to his feet and shaking his head. Our night out has come to an end when he tosses a few notes on the counter and leaves the bar. I rush out after him, finding him in the alley between the bar and Olivia's apartment building.

“What are you doing, Stryker?”

“I'm going back home,” he grunts, fists curled on his sides. “I thought we were on the same page, but it seems like you're not who I thought you were.”

His words cut bitterly into my chest, and I know I deserve it. But hearing from him only adds to my regret. How can I tell him I don't care for the human mating process without disappointing him even more than he is right now?

“You don't understand, Stryker–” I begin, but he cuts me off with a dismissive hand.

“Save it, Brother,” he spits venomously. “You're wrong for this, and you know it.” With that, Stryker closes his eyes and shifts into dragon form, leaving me behind to wallow in self-loathing and contemplating if I should follow him or immerse myself in distractions for another night.

Chapter 8 - Olivia

There isn't much I can do, tied to a bed by the world's most unbreakable binds.

I've concluded that these metal chains aren't like the ones we have in my world. Where I'm from, I'm able to pick locks and uncuff myself with ease. Here, the dragon man has ensured that I won't pick these locks – not even with the knife I'd managed to hide away earlier.

Wallowing in my sorrows, I can do nothing more than lie between the pillows and stare at the white ceiling through the black bars of the bedpost. The exotic nature of this place screams royalty of some kind, though I've never heard of the Vulkan name before.

With the sun setting outside, I begin wondering if the dragon man will come back any time soon. A rumble ignites in the pit of my belly, not from hunger but from a foreign sense of longing that feels highly out of place.

Why do I have the sudden desire to be near him? I frown at myself, dismissing it as the fact that he’s otherworldly beautiful. Maybe I just enjoy appreciating his immaculately good looks with my sharp eye. It's not every day that one stumbles on a walking Greek God as if he'd fallen out of the pages of Greek mythology and masquerades as a dragon shifter.

As the pitter-patter of my heartbeat starts to pick up pace, I close my eyes only to find that beautiful face behind my eyelids. I shouldn't be feeling so drawn to him – not when he'd done the unthinkable thing of kidnapping me and keeping me prisoner on his island.

With Luca Mancini, I knew my boundaries, understood the assignment, and mentally kept my distance with my end goal in mind. I'm too empathetic to not appreciate beauty and charm when I see it, but I've always been smart enough to maintain my distance so I wouldn't let any personal feelings ruin the desired outcome.

Around Stryder Vulkan, I don't feel as smart as I should be. It's almost as if his mere presence is hypnotic, my baser instincts screaming at me to drop my guard mindlessly.

I can't afford to do that, I decide with a heavy sigh, opening my eyes just as he throws the door open and steps into the bedroom.

He stares at me from the doorway, eyes softening momentarily and startling me into averting my gaze.

When did he change? I bat my eyelids at him as he focuses his gaze on me and marches forward. Catching myself slipping by, wondering about something as simple as his change of clothes, I take a deep breath. I will my mind to think about nothing except getting out of this place.

“I'm gonna untie you,” he says, his voice less gravelly and deep than I remember it.

Frowning to myself, I watch as Stryder takes out a key from his denim pocket and grabs my left wrist. The warmth of his fingers feels strangely foreign, not as awe-inducing as they felt before.

Maybe it's working. Maybe willing myself to not be affected by his presence makes his touch appear alien and not as welcoming as before. Even his scent appears foreign, strangely sweet where it used to speak to my senses in its masculine strength.

“I'm sorry, Olivia,” Stryder apologizes, saying three words I would have never expected from him. Despite everything I've told him, he's been unable to take accountability for his actions.

Yet, here he is, saying the words I was hoping he would. They just don't have the effect I thought they would. Something is off about him; the sudden shift is too unwarranted to be real.

When he rounds the bed to my right to take care of the second set of binds, I stare at him in disbelief. As he leans down, I look for the mole on the left side of his mouth, wanting to fix on the flowery freckle instead of paying heed to why he's suddenly changed his mind.

But the mole isn't there on the left side of his mouth. Gasping when I realized why I was not inclined to the man anymore, he noticed my trepidation and stopped with the key in the hole.

---