Chapter 8 - Olivia

There isn't much I can do, tied to a bed by the world's most unbreakable binds.

I've concluded that these metal chains aren't like the ones we have in my world. Where I'm from, I'm able to pick locks and uncuff myself with ease. Here, the dragon man has ensured that I won't pick these locks – not even with the knife I'd managed to hide away earlier.

Wallowing in my sorrows, I can do nothing more than lie between the pillows and stare at the white ceiling through the black bars of the bedpost. The exotic nature of this place screams royalty of some kind, though I've never heard of the Vulkan name before.

With the sun setting outside, I begin wondering if the dragon man will come back any time soon. A rumble ignites in the pit of my belly, not from hunger but from a foreign sense of longing that feels highly out of place.

Why do I have the sudden desire to be near him? I frown at myself, dismissing it as the fact that he’s otherworldly beautiful. Maybe I just enjoy appreciating his immaculately good looks with my sharp eye. It's not every day that one stumbles on a walking Greek God as if he'd fallen out of the pages of Greek mythology and masquerades as a dragon shifter.

As the pitter-patter of my heartbeat starts to pick up pace, I close my eyes only to find that beautiful face behind my eyelids. I shouldn't be feeling so drawn to him – not when he'd done the unthinkable thing of kidnapping me and keeping me prisoner on his island.

With Luca Mancini, I knew my boundaries, understood the assignment, and mentally kept my distance with my end goal in mind. I'm too empathetic to not appreciate beauty and charm when I see it, but I've always been smart enough to maintain my distance so I wouldn't let any personal feelings ruin the desired outcome.

Around Stryder Vulkan, I don't feel as smart as I should be. It's almost as if his mere presence is hypnotic, my baser instincts screaming at me to drop my guard mindlessly.

I can't afford to do that, I decide with a heavy sigh, opening my eyes just as he throws the door open and steps into the bedroom.

He stares at me from the doorway, eyes softening momentarily and startling me into averting my gaze.

When did he change? I bat my eyelids at him as he focuses his gaze on me and marches forward. Catching myself slipping by, wondering about something as simple as his change of clothes, I take a deep breath. I will my mind to think about nothing except getting out of this place.

“I'm gonna untie you,” he says, his voice less gravelly and deep than I remember it.

Frowning to myself, I watch as Stryder takes out a key from his denim pocket and grabs my left wrist. The warmth of his fingers feels strangely foreign, not as awe-inducing as they felt before.

Maybe it's working. Maybe willing myself to not be affected by his presence makes his touch appear alien and not as welcoming as before. Even his scent appears foreign, strangely sweet where it used to speak to my senses in its masculine strength.

“I'm sorry, Olivia,” Stryder apologizes, saying three words I would have never expected from him. Despite everything I've told him, he's been unable to take accountability for his actions.

Yet, here he is, saying the words I was hoping he would. They just don't have the effect I thought they would. Something is off about him; the sudden shift is too unwarranted to be real.

When he rounds the bed to my right to take care of the second set of binds, I stare at him in disbelief. As he leans down, I look for the mole on the left side of his mouth, wanting to fix on the flowery freckle instead of paying heed to why he's suddenly changed his mind.

But the mole isn't there on the left side of his mouth. Gasping when I realized why I was not inclined to the man anymore, he noticed my trepidation and stopped with the key in the hole.

“Who–who are you…?” I breathe, meeting the man's eyes and finding that it isn't easy to lose myself in them. He opens his mouth, and I notice that the mole is on the right corner of his mouth, resembling a heart instead of a flower.

“Stryker!” comes that distinctly bearish voice from the doorway, snapping my attention there. The man beside the bed drops my hand and stands back.

“What are you doing?!” the one at the doorway saunters forward powerfully, the air billowing around him and carrying that heady, musky scent toward my nostrils.

My eyelids flutter closed as the scent of his cologne wafts into my airways. I bask in the familiarity of the fragrance, just long enough before reminding myself that I can't be enamored by the dragon shifter man.

Gulping as I open my eyes again, an unsettling chill runs down my spine as I snap my head between the two men on either side of me.

It's like I'm seeing double, and it takes me a moment to realize that they're twins.

“I'm cleaning up your mess, Brother,” the one on my right, Stryker, scoffs as he reaches for the key and throws it at Stryder.

Stryder catches the key to his chest, staring wildly confused at the other man.

“I'll take it from here,” Stryder relents with a heavy sigh.

When his twin brother huffs and storms out of the bedroom, Stryder rushes after him, catching him outside the doorway. They speak in hushed whispers, and I can barely make out what they're saying. Still, the tension in the air is palpable, and I can sense that Stryder is in some kind of trouble.

Why, I'm not sure. The other twin, Stryker, seemed upset about me being tied to Stryder's bedpost. I don't have the slightest clue about what's happening, but I already decided I wouldn't care. I just need to go back; that's all I should care about.

But when Stryder comes back with a glum look crippling his face, I can’t help but wonder why.

I shouldn't care… I shouldn't care… I chime mentally as Stryder comes to the bed and takes a seat, lifting my hand on his lap.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, staring at his face while he unlocks the cuff on my right wrist.

“I shouldn't–” he sighs, blinking at my hand as it rests on his lap.

I'm suddenly aware I'm free, slowly removing my hand from his lap and wringing my wrist now that the metal is gone.

“I'm sorry, Olivia,” he repeats the words his brother told me, and this time, the apology carries a weight with it that causes my heart to skip a beat. “It was wrong of me to keep you a prisoner here.” Stryder rises to his feet and steps aside, bowing his head curtly. “You're free.”

I frowned, hesitating to even move in case this was a joke. After being locked away twice, it's hard to believe I'm free now.

“Does this mean I get to go home?” I ask, a flicker of disappointment making its presence known in the pit of my belly. Against my better judgment, of course. It's not a welcomed feeling, so I mentally push it aside.

Stryder lifts his head, meeting my eyes with an apologetic glint passing his green depths. “No,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “It just means you're free to walk around the island.”

“Oh…” I purse my lips together, pausing to contemplate his offer. It isn't much, since going back to my world and fulfilling my duties as an FBI agent was the only thing I'd hoped for. Now that I'm not restrained, I could easily find a way to escape the island, even if that's not what he wants. I could play the part of willing captor, and plot my escape.

But that tiny frisson of curiosity about the world of the dragon shifters has me staying exactly where I am. Curiosity killed the cat, they say. I'm not a cat, and I'm quite capable of protecting the one life I do have.

It's what prompts my next statement. “Fine, I'll stick around for whatever foolish reason you have to keep me here.”

“For your own safety,” he reminds me, his jaw clenching when he says this.

“Right… your inner dragon,” I scoff. “What do you expect me to do in this place, anyway?”

A strange flicker of hope lightens his eyes, his lips lifting in a feeble smile. “There's a lot that you can do here, Olivia. Why don't you rest for now, and I'll show you around tomorrow?”

Something in the way his voice pitches with hope has me confused. Apart from wanting to keep me safe because he believes I'm in danger, I can't help but wonder if there's more to it.

“Okay,” I agree, sliding off the bed and making my way to the bathroom. If he wants me to stick around, it must be on my terms. “I want something to eat,” I instruct him from the door. “And I'll need my own bedroom again.”