Page 34 of Kidnapped Plus-Size Mate

I didn’t know I had it in me to be brave enough to stand up against the man. That little valiant act of mine—throwing the hot drink at his face—is something I wouldn’t have done against an ordinary human.

Survival instincts. That’s what it is. If I can stand up against the dragon man, I can somehow get out of here. I’ll fight until the very end. I can’t accept defeat, even if death is inevitable.

***

The sunrise offers a moment of respite from the rage building inside me. Standing behind the glass sliding door with my arms crossed, I look out ahead as far as my eyes can see.

My intention to capture the sun’s rising rays was to spot a way out of the island. Instead, I find myself gazing out and marveling at the intricate details of the picturesque land. With pastel blues and soft lilacs scattered around the rich green meadow, I arrive at one simple conclusion.

The island sprang out of my dreams. I’d lose myself in those dreams in a dance toward the crystalline waters, where the fire-breathing dragon would eventually appear and frighten me.

Those dreams were probably a warning that, eventually, the blissful sanctuary would turn into a horror. As my heart steadily picks up pace, there’s a nagging sense that I’m not seeing the whole picture, even if I can see most of the island as if I manifested it visibly from the pages of my dreams.

The fumble of the door behind me sparks a flicker of hope that I’ll find a way to escape this bedroom. With its plush beige carpets and trimmings of gold, the appeal of its expensive doesn’t overshadow my frightful situation.

The bed could have been cast from solid gold, but it wouldn’t have mattered. It’s not like I was meant to take the treasures out into the world to enjoy them.

I’m stuck in this prison of luxury; my only hope is the subtle stir of the air when the door opens, and heavy footsteps come dragging in.

“I brought you breakfast,” Stryker announces flatly before the sound of metal sliding on the ivory nightstand resounds in the heavy silence that follows.

Peeling my gaze from the stunning view of the island as the sun shrouds the rich land with its golden glow, I turn with my arms folded firmly across my chest.

“Need me plump and juicy, huh?” I quip scornfully at his back when he makes his way back to the door.

He pauses then, turning slowly to me with a disparaging glint flashing in his eyes. While he’d been walking away, it was easier to be courageous. When our eyes meet, my breath catches in my throat as I’m faced with fear again, its harsh tresses trickling down my spine when Stryker takes a menacing step forward.

“I need you tolive,Camilla,” he snides. A glance at the rest of his poised stance shows me how tightly wound his fists are at his sides, his pulse quickening with how rapidly his chest heaves.

I feel the tension in the air, so palpable that it can be cut with a knife. But the blade would only end up slicing my nose spitefully.

No matter how angry I am, there’s no denying that I’m attracted to him. Even after learning about his true identity and being fearful of his true intentions, I’m magnetized to him.

It’s not just his breathtaking body and scrumptious form that appeals to me, or the charisma he exercised around me before. Even with his brows knitted in an aggrieved frown as he glowers at me, it’s his eyes that seem to gaze into my soul and see it for what it truly is.

For the first time in my life, it’s as if someone truly sees me for who I am.

It frightens me more than anything. I could get away with my outer shell being unworthy of society, and having tohide away just to protect myself from the ridicule I often faced amongst my peers in high school.

But as Stryker stares into my soul, there’s no hiding the truth from him. The unbelievably incessant pull toward him must be written clearly in my eyes. How do I hide how attracted I am? How do I mask the desire I feel burning in my soul?

He can’t know how my body burns for his touch.

Dragging my eyes away and gulping hard, I find a spot on the carpet to hold my attention off from those unjustifiable feelings of excitement that roll in waves across my body as if I’m the ocean in which only Stryker can handle the tides.

“Why—why do you need me to live when you’re gonna kill me soon enough?” I ask in earnest.

Another moment of terse silence feels like a volcanic eruption while it lasts.

“Kill you?” he scoffs. “What makes you think I’m gonna kill you when I am the one who saved you yesterday?!”

His harsh tone compels me to look at him once again as he pounds a palm on his chest and appears visibly outraged.

“Can’t you get it in your head that I’m here to protect you?” he roars fiercely, and I’m frightened again.

He’s angry with me.

As he should be!

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