Page 50 of Kidnapped Plus-Size Mate

I can’t bear it any longer. Staring at his face and wishing he’d just wake up so I could tell him how I feel, does me no good. It makes me realize how wrong I was when I told him I hated him, and the regret lodges like the heaviest sob in my throat.

I care about Stryker, more deeply than I could ever admit. The second I saw him passing out, the fear that I might never feel his touch again reared its ugly head and surpassed the horrors I’d ever faced in my dreams.

This was probably what Olivia spoke about when she explained what it meant to be a dragon shifter’s fated mate. I’d been oblivious to the strong pull, that invisible thread that drew me to him. Until now, when all I feel is emptiness in the wake of his unconscious state. The void gnaws on my being, numbing every inch of my body until I’m nothing but a limp mass dragging my feet to the door.

Watching him lying unconsciously on the bed, hooked to machines as he recovers from his injuries while he fought to protect me again has me hanging my head in shame.

As I sit outside the hospital room with my face in my hands, puddling tears in my palms, I realize that whatever those dreams were, I got it all wrong.

There’s no way I could be linked to Stryker dying. I can’t stomach the thought of losing him; I can’t foresee a future in which he doesn’t exist. There’s no way that knife my ancestor passed me was meant to be wielded as a weapon against his life.

A life that is more valuable than I could have fathomed. Now that I understand what it means to be his fated mate, I know it’s his life that is priceless.

That’s why he was determined to protect me before. I couldn’t see past the deception of being kidnapped to the island,but I know that it was only his determination to protect me that made him do what he did.

Bursting into tears, I lay my head down on the metal bench. I deserve the hostility of the cold, hard metal for all the bitter words I’d thrown at Stryker.

Outside, thunder rumbles the skies before the clouds part to open the floodgates of the sky’s turmoil that mimics my own as I wait impatiently for Stryker to regain consciousness.

We didn’t have enough time together. I barely know him, yet it feels like I’ve known him my whole life. I never thought I’d find such a deeply profound connection with anyone, and now that I’ve briefly tasted the sweet delicacies of a fated mate bond, I’m not willing to let it go.

He has to wake up.

Please, God, let him wake up.

***

The clearing of a throat jolts me awake, my eyes snapping open, and my body automatically rising off the cruel bench.

As soon as I meet the warmth of green eyes, I launch myself forward and fling my arms around his neck.

“Oh, my God!” I exclaim with intense relief. “You’re awake!”

Stryker chuckles, his hands awkwardly touching my shoulders to peel me away. My heart sinks as I step back on my heels, frowning profusely at him, when I notice that I’m unable to get lost in his eyes the way I usually can.

“Stryker?” I whisper in confusion, taking a step back to inspect the diffidence I feel radiating off his auric field. He’s notas warm and inviting as I remember, and it's as if his injuries shifted something in him.

The rich, citrus and sandalwood scent that surrounds him is gone, too. It’s only when I narrow my eyes at him that I realize he’s not Stryker.

The man standing in front of me chuckles lightly. “I’m Stryder,” he clears the air, sticking out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Camilla. And sorry for waking you so suddenly.”

A brief sense of relief washes over me as I shake Stryker’s twin brother’s hand. For a moment, I thought that Stryker had turned cold on me. But my relief lasts only long enough to greet the man before I remember that Stryker, my fated mate, was lying unconscious before I fell asleep, thanks to the weight of sadness that crippled me.

“H-how is he doing?” I ask tersely, mentally praying that his identical twin isn’t here as the bearer of bad news. I notice the only difference between the two men is the mole on the left side of his lips.

Stryker’s is distinctly on the right side of his mouth.

Stryder skims a hand over his mouth, looking down. “He’s awake.” When he looks up, he smiles warmly at me. “You should go inside. He’s been asking about you.”

Hope spreads through me like wildfire as I race to the door, my heart pounding with excitement. As soon as I throw the door open, I pause, locking eyes with Stryker and feeling relieved when his lips curl into a smile.

It’s that smile that has me sprinting forward and throwing myself into his waiting arms.

“You’re awake!” I chortle, my voice breaking between a giggle and a cry. His arms fold around me as he holds me tightly, and I feel his chest rumbling with a chuckle.

“I had to wake up,” he soothes gently. “I had to see you again.”

The tears that spring out from my eyes this time are full of relief. I don’t care about the past anymore. All that matters is that he’s awake.

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