Chapter 6 - Olivia

“Dragon shifter…” I murmur the term, mulling over the idea that such a thing exists. My whole life flipped around in a split second, and now I’m on some remote island, tied to a dragon shifter’s bedpost.

I noticed the dragon shifter had already left when I woke up in the morning. He knows that I’m capable of picking a lock, yet he’s left me alone with only weak fabric keeping me bound.

“Pfft!” I blow out scornfully, having long since removed the makeshift gag around my mouth, rolling my eyes as I figure out a way to get free. I should have done this last night, I know. But some deep, inner curiosity had me staying still while the dragon shifter snored on the couch.

It wasn’t something I was expecting to hear, but the very human sound was audible almost as soon as he hit the couch. Dragon shifters snore. I know it sounds crazy. It makes me wonder if I imagined watching him fly toward me in a dragon form, with white scales like a reptile but much, much larger.

It’s probably how we flew to this island, and my body shudders at the thought of being held in those powerful arms, against that armored chest.

Another shiver courses down my spine as I turn my attention to the binds around my wrists. My arms are held far apart, so I can’t use either hand to untie the other.

But I can wiggle my wrists deftly enough to wring myself free. I was always skilled as an agent – that’s why I was tasked to go undercover to intercept Luca’s dealings and finally put him behind bars.

***

Three Months Earlier

“And… Time!” The director of our department blows his whistle to signal the end of training when I’m the first to cross the finish line of the obstacle course.

The older man applauds me as I stumble forward, keeling over and lugging deep breaths. My heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through my veins from rushing to win the race.

What was supposed to be a team-building exercise turned out to be something of a test. I knew from the moment Director Sheffield entered the training center and took the reins.

The director is barely seen unless there’s an important task at hand. The moment I suspected this wasn’t just a friendly exercise, I knew I had to give it my very best.

I’m so tired of being confined to a desk, filling in paperwork for the other field agents.

“Agent Jackson…” Director Sheffield nods. “Nice work out here today.”

“Thanks, Director Sheffield,” I say through deep pants. When I straightened up, I noticed that the man looked at me intently, lips pursed in contemplation.

“You’ve really proced yourself today,” he praises. “You uncuffed yourself in record time. I’m impressed.”

I chuckle nervously. “It’s from watching the other agents in action, I guess. There’s a lot one can learn from behind a desk.”

“And a lot one can apply on the field, don’t you think?” he speculates with a raised brow.

Internally, my heart is doing flips inside my chest. But I keep myself composed for the sake of the director of the FBI. I know what he’s implying, and I’d like to fling myself into field duties.

It’s something I’ve been working towards for years. Extensive training, more studying. I often envied the agents who had the liberty of cuffing the most dangerous criminals in the world, often fantasizing how satisfying it would feel.

I nod curtly as he gestures for me to follow him, feeling the eyes of my colleagues boring into my back as they, too, realize that I’ve just been promoted.

When we arrived at Director Sheffield’s office, a team of agents was already waiting for us. Agent Matthews opened up a file in front of me, while Special Agent Hawks gave me a quick debriefing of the new mission.

“Do you think you can handle it?” Director Sheffield asks when Agent Hawks is done.

I affirm with a nod. “I believe I can, Sir. Although, I would like to make a suggestion.”

“I’m listening…”

I clear my throat before making my suggestion. “I don’t think it would be fitting for a female to enter Luca Mancini’s circle like this.” I pause, taking a moment to wipe away the beads of sweat on my forehead. “Women are hardly interested in purchasing arms, and he might become suspicious.”

Agent Hawks raises a skeptical brow, and I’m almost convinced this department has never had a woman on the field. “What do you suggest, then, Agent Jackson?”

“Luca Mancini is a gentleman in his personal affairs,” I reveal. “I’ve been paying enough attention, and doing enough research on him. He doesn’t have a girlfriend at the moment. Maybe a new love interest will be blind-siding.”

“Hm…” Director Sheffield hums contemplatively. “I can work with this.”

“I will go in and seduce him. That’s the only way I’ll have access to his villa.”

“What if he doesn’t budge?” Agent Matthews contends. As a fellow desk agent, she and I have been in the loop about Luca Mancini ever since he’d been placed on our radar. “He doesn’t take women to his villa.”

“If he doesn’t take me there, we’ll think of something,” I offer. “I’ll bring him to the brink, then maybe stage a kidnapping so he’ll think my life is in danger and want to keep me under his nose. In his villa.”

“You watch too many movies,” Agent Matthews chuckles, shaking her head.

“And you watch too little,” I contest with a playful sneer. “Sometimes, there’s a thing or two that can be learned from them.”

“I like it,” Director Sheffield nods. “Let’s go with your idea. Agent Matthews, get her an alias and whatever else she needs. You start tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I smile, although it’s more to myself. This is my time to shine. Not only did I just get promoted to field agent, I’m about to make the arrest of the decade.

***

Muttering a string of curses under my breath, I’m finally able to pull my left hand free. I breathe a sigh of relief, quickly undoing the other bind.

When I took the mission, I wasn’t counting on my plan being thwarted by a dragon shifter. Now, I have to escape his base – this remote island – and get back to the real world.

The mere thought of him frustrates me, prompting an irritated huff as I finally get free, wringing my hands together to ease the pressure left behind by the tightness of the binds.

“Right… I need to get out of here…” I say to myself, commanding my feet to the floor and groaning. The icky feeling of being in the same dress as it clings to me like second skin sends a shiver down my spine.

One thing is for sure – the dragon man is a heartless prick.

I'm about to head toward the door when the man suddenly appears in front of me. Out of nowhere, he startles me, a tiny squeal falling from my lips.

My eyes flit to the door that remains locked. Somehow, he just walked through it without having to open it. There's so much more to the dragon shifter, it seems. Some kind of magic. A mystery I shouldn't be intent on uncovering.

I have Luca Mancini's case to work on. That's enough on my plate.

Why, God, why?

I gulp when my eyes flit back to the man, his turning dark as he stares at me through narrowed slits of contempt.

“I knew it!” he accuses, stepping forward and grabbing my shoulders. My upper arms are so small in his large hands, they almost disappear.

I don't understand why I care about how warm and familiar his touch is. Or why that warmth spreads through me, igniting every fiber in my being as if awakened for the first time. It takes every ounce of inner strength to remember that I'm a prisoner here.

He has no right to glare at me disdainfully for wanting to escape. I have no reason to be here except for his crazy explanation that his “inner dragon” won't allow me to leave.

Pffft! How ridiculous!

“I knew you'd be out of that bed the minute I walked in,” he snarls. “Good thing I didn't open the door.”

“I know perfectly well how to escape any situation,” I retorted. “Especially one as dangerous as this.”

“You think?” he scoffs, then does the unthinkable. As if my curvaceous figure weighs nothing more than a feather, he picks me up by the waist, tosses me over one shoulder, and marches ahead.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim.

“Shut up…” he drawls coolly. “When will you learn that your life isn't in danger here?”

“The moment you let me go!” I bite back.

As if in response to my demand, he plops me onto my feet inside the bathroom he'd just carried me into. Staring sternly into my eyes, I notice the way the emerald jets flash with golden circles, the golden specks between his eyes lighting up. He's staring at me, but it's almost as if he's staring past my soul into a void only he can see.

Only when the hints of amber turn green again does he seem to return to the moment.

What was that?

“Olivia Jackson, huh?” He folds his arms across his chest and raises an expectant brow.

I glare at him through narrowed eyes. “How do you know my name?”

“It doesn't matter,” he clicks his tongue, nodding at the shower. “Get in. You haven’t freshened up since you got here.”

“No thanks to you,” I bite back sardonically. As frustrated and furious as I am, I can’t help but feel like the shower is calling my name. It’s been two days, and I need to freshen up.

When the man doesn’t move, staring at me expectantly, it sends a cold shiver down my spine.

“What?” I ask with a frown.

“Get in the shower,” he replies flatly.

I frown at him, perplexed, catching the way his lips twitch and noticing the mole on the left corner of his mouth for the first time. Not more than a few millimeters beside the dent where his top and bottom lip meet, a flowery mole stands out, filling me with the sudden urge to reach out and touch it with the tip of my finger.

Catching myself in another heinous thought, I quickly reel my thoughts in and gather my resolve. This is no situation to wonder what the man’s face would feel beneath my touch.

He’s a psychopath.

“Not while you’re standing there,” I grouch instead.

“You don’t have a choice, Olivia,” he grates. The way he says my name sends a shiver of awareness down my spine, the sensation settling in the pit of my belly. He doesn’t have an American accent, his tone of voice almost anciently exotic. Maybe it’s that striking richness in his voice that elicits a bodily reaction from me – the sense of the unknown, the danger it imposes while maintaining a sense of familiarity.

Whatever it is, I never felt drawn to a voice before. Not even Luca, with his Italian accent, calling me by my alias could spark this amount of awareness in me.

I should be furious, I remind myself. After all, this is the man who messed up my plans and kidnapped me. He really kidnapped me, claiming to have saved me from the staged kidnapping that was all a part of the plan.

I can only imagine what’s going on back at the headquarters. Director Sheffield must be going insane, regretting ever promoting me to a field agent.

“I need my privacy. It’s the least you can give me.”

In response, the man sighs and turns his back to me. “Good enough?”

I roll my eyes at his back while I slip the dress off. I should be concerned about getting undressed in the presence of a dragon man, yet it hardly fazes me. Staring at his back, my head tilts to one side as I regard the odd way he remains appealing, even from this view. Tracing my eyes across his back muscles as they pull taut against the fabric of his t-shirt, I’m about to drag my gaze lower when he glances to the side.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I–er–don’t turn around,” I warn, quickly tearing my gaze from his back and scurrying to the shower stall. I turn the faucet and wait for the temperature to rise, glancing back and noticing that he still has his back to me, his arms crossed in front of him.

”I don’t understand why you’re keeping me here,” I wonder aloud.

“I told you already… My inner dragon won’t let you get into any more trouble. Call it a hunch,” he shrugs.

“Well, your hunch has cost me an important case I’ve been working on,” I huff before stepping underneath the shower. Closing my eyes as the perfectly hot water rushes from the crown of my head, flowing to every inch of my body, I think out loud, “You have me here for whatever reason, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Stryder,” he calls out, and my eyes spring open. I didn’t think he’d hear me across the pitter-patter of the shower spray, but he did.

“... Stryder Vulkan,” he continues, prompting me to turn around only to see him reaching for the door.

To my surprise, he leaves the bathroom without another word. I frown through the veil of steam around the shower stall, half-expecting him to come back since he doesn’t trust me not to try and escape.

But when he doesn’t return, I’m left to wonder why he refuses to let me go in the first place. Nonetheless, I have a life outside this remote island that I need to return to.

Then why does my body tell me I’m right where I need to be, his name rolling off my tongue so naturally when I say it?