Page 36 of Kidnapped Forced Mate

“Y-yes,” I say, a little too hesitant for my own good. I decide to play along, buying myself some time to explain to Olivia why she’s here. I have until dinner.

Though I’m not sure how to break the news to her.

With everything that’s happened between us, it’d somehow slipped my priorities to tell her why she’s really here. I’m not even sure if she’ll agree to bear my children. She brought up being on birth control for a reason, after all.

It was only a week ago that she lost her virginity to me. That, too, was in a moment of reckless passion fueled with adrenaline from her near-death experience.

I hadn’t given it much thought then, but over the past few days, I’ve been mulling over what this means for either of us. I’m not sure where I stand, especially after her strange question in the bathroom earlier today…

I’m not sure if she’ll agree to be just a dragonspirit-producing incubator. She’s so much more than that, worth so much more. I’m just not able to give her the life she deserves. It’s a fact that I’ll need to explain when I tell her before dinner. She has to know that love isn’t something I’m able to give.

If she chooses to remain as my mate, to reproduce dragonspirit off-spring, she’ll have to accept that I cannot give her love. All I can offer is protection, to ensure no harm comes to her.

Taking a deep breath, I catch Stryker’s worried glance as we follow Draco to the dining room to greet the rest of the Vulkan family. I say nothing, not even through the mind line, as I glance over my shoulder at the elevator. I could just return to my quarters now and come clean to Olivia, but when Tyson skips toward me, I’m too distracted to think about what needs to be done.

I’ll spend some time with my family, I decide as I lift Tyson into the air and feel my heart swell with joy and pride. I’ll have to man up before dinner and tell Olivia the truth about why she’s really here.

Chapter 16 - Olivia

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, running my fingertip over the hickey on my shoulder as images of another passionate encounter with Stryder come to mind.

Sighing contentedly, my lips lift into a pleasant smile. I’d always been prone to bruises and scars, my inherently pale skin making me susceptible to the most obvious markings.

My scars and bruises often came from training or knocking into the corner of a desk. I’d just never been marked by the teeth or strong fingertips of a man before. Not just any man, but a powerful dragon shifter who ignites a fire inside me that hadn’t been sparked before.

I’ve long since forgotten about my world – the so-called “mortal world”, as Stryder calls it. Here, on Aurora Island, the dragons remain eternal, immortal and unharmed by the things that are fatal to humankind.

As I gaze at the bruises marring my skin, I wonder if I would be able to see these blemishes of passion if I was immortal. A few weeks ago, I would have never given it a thought. Now that I know something such as immortality exists, it has me wondering if all the troubles of the mortal world even matter anymore. The case I’d been working on is a faraway thought now, and I can’t imagine myself being anywhere else in the world.

Not only have I been able to pick up my brushes again, I’m a canvas myself, on which the dragon shifter paints his territorial strokes of raw passion. Even the blush that creeps up my cheeks is a work of art that’s credited to him.

“Are you alright?” comes Stryder’s voice from the bathroom door as he sticks his head inside.

I catch his worried stare in the mirror, and smile as reassurance.”I’m fine,” I giggle, watching as he enters the bathroom, still wearing worry on his brows.

He comes up behind me, tentatively lifting a hand to the bruise on my shoulder. He barely touches it, his fingers merely ghosting over the evidence of his firm grip from just now when he held me tightly and pounded into me.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, touching the bruise with his lips instead. “I’m supposed to keep you safe…”

The apology flashing in his saddened eyes touches my heart. I turn to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and needing to stretch on my tiptoes to kiss his lips reassuringly.

“Let’s just call it even,” I muse with a light giggle.

“Even?” he asks, hands settling on my sides.

I grin. “I’m painting you, and you’re painting me.”

“Still…” He pauses to brush the damp waves of my hair over my shoulder, exposing a set of teeth marks. “... I should learn how to be more gentle.”

“Don’t,” I refute with a curt shake of my head. “I like being your personal canvas.”

“You do?” he smirks, brushing his lips across my shoulder and traveling toward my neck. The faint stroke of his plump lips sends awareness to every nerve ending in my body, reigniting the desperate need for him. It was only a few minutes ago that we clambered toward a unified peak, and yet, I am insatiable when it comes to him.

So is he as he grows against my belly.

“Uh-huh…” I concede with a hum, closing my eyes and tilting my head to permit him full liberty of my neck. My hands explore his firm chest, enjoying the way his pectoral muscles flex beneath my touch.

“It’s a pity we’re not painting today…” he drawls at my ear, tracing the shell of my lobe with the tip of his nose. “... I would have loved to borrow one of your brushes…”

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