Page 33 of Kidnapped Plus-Size Mate

No matter how much I try to make sense of it, I know nothing good can come from my imprisonment on an island in the dragon man’s lair. But despite my better judgment, why does a pang of guilt grip my heart when I recall the look of disbelief in his eyes when I threw the steaming contents of the mug at his face?

All I achieved was to enrage him when all he was trying to do was explain why he thinks I’m safer here than back home.

I shudder as a shiver passes through me, dismissing my doubts and those unwarranted feelings of attraction toward my captor.

He kidnapped me and locked me in his lair. His good looks aren’t sufficient to make up for the horror I’m facing right now.

Alone and scared, I sink to the bed and stare blankly at the tray of food when a rumble in my belly reminds me that I haven’t eaten all day.

“He’s wrong,” I scoff to myself as I pick up the glossy red apple from the tray. I don’t have a death wish. The only reasonI threatened to jump off the balcony was my feeble attempt to scare him into taking me back home.

No one wants a cold meal; I think sarcastically as I set the tray on my lap. Since I don’t actually have a death wish, there’s no point in starving myself.

Sighing with a heavy heart, I dig into the rich meal of meat and vegetables, stuffing my mouth with rigorous force that emanates from the anger building inside.

I was out of my mind to think that a man as strikingly handsome as Sterling—

Correction.

Stryker.

What was I thinking when I first saw the man? That he’d be genuinely interested in a relationship with someone like me?

Scoffing, I nearly choke on the mouthful of chewed potatoes as it slips down my throat absentmindedly. When I’ve succeeded in stopping my spluttering thanks to the orange juice he provided, I frown at the door as I mull over his name again.

He doesn’t look like a “Stryker,” even if he’s strikingly good-looking with his ethereal beauty and timelessly sharp features. He looked like a “Sterling”, a man with a name as brandishing as his appearance.

“Stryker” implies that he’s soft at heart and gentle in nature. As a shiver passes through me, I can only discern that there’s more than meets the eye of the dragon-slash-man.

He probably thrives on his ability to trick his victims with his charm. A master manipulator, who executes his grand scheme as if it’s a romance that sprung out from the best television series.

I knew it would do me no good binging as many of those blasted shows as I did. I mean, what else did I have to look forward to until he appeared in my life and turned my entire world upside down?

It’s more thrill than I’ve had in my life, but the thought of being confined to this bedroom until I’m ripe enough to be eaten isn’t something I look forward to. Apart from the fears crippling my belly and making it impossible to take another bite of food, it’s anger that seethe in my being and has me pushing the plate away to get to my feet.

Anger at myself, I realize regretfully. The dragon man tricked me into believing that the insecurities I spent my entire life wallowing in weren’t real. For a hot moment, he had me thinking that I was worthy enough to grab the attention of someone as gorgeous as him.

It was all a part of his ploy to get me to trust him, just so that I’d end up here, locked away like a misfitted princess who’d end up as the dragon’s snack.

The fight that broke out when another dragon grabbed me first was probably a primal fight, like two male lions fighting over a deer. It only means that these overflowing curves and rolls I have been appetizing enough to bring their attention to me.

The gloomy realization strikes an internal chord that reverberates through my being and sprouts tears to the surface of my eyes. All I can think about is my grandmother at the retirement home, probably sensing that I’m in danger and unable to get through to me.

Abuela…

She was always a feisty old woman who didn’t take nonsense from anyone. Growing up with her, I witnessed her fight for the things she believed in, even if society told her shewas wrong. She did it all on her own when my parents died in that car crash when I was only five.

The embodiment of a fierce female warrior, my grandmother never gave up until I was old enough to be set free.

I can’t give up like this. My whole life, I spent hiding in the shadows and sticking to the walls like a withering flower, shielded by Abuela’s maternal protection. Now that she’s not here with me, I have to do this on her own. I have to invoke the strength I saw in her and wield it as my own to get out of this place.

I swallow back the acrid bile that threatens to bring me down with the weight of insecurities about my figure and take a deep breath.

I can do this.

I can find a way to escape the dragon’s lair.

Maybe I’d been too blinded to see that I possess an innate strength that will be my ticket out.

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