Page 28 of The Bounty

But when I meet Dylan’s face as he stands in the doorway, a tray in his hand, the memories flood back to me.

I was too tired to lock the door. But at least he didn’t barge in.

“Hi,” he says hesitantly. Hopefully. His gaze flicks down to my body, and I flush red as I realize the sheets are the only fabric covering the top of my chest. My mating gland is visible, the delicate patch of skin on the left side of my neck and shoulder exposed.

“I brought you food,” he adds quickly, awkwardly holding up the tray. “But um, I can wait until you’re dressed.”

The moment is beyond awkward, and my lips form into a thin line. “Yeah. Could you shut the door?”

He nods apologetically, and the door closes with aclick.

I hobble into action, rummaging through the dresser and finding a nondescript black hoodie, similar to the one I was wearing when Killian brought me here.

Only this one is a designer brand and cashmere, the fabric delicate against my sensitized skin. Thankfully, it’s thick enough that I don’t need a bra, so I don’t give my captors an unnecessary peep show.

Well…

Are they my captors? Because right now, they’re acting as if I’m a guest in their mansion.

Yes, they are, Olive. Killian, that psycho, brought you here against your will.

The nagging voice in the back of my head grounds me in reality.

They may have patched me up, they may have let me shower…

But I’m sure if I tried to leave, they would stop me.

I find a pair of grey sweatpants and struggle to put them on over my foot. They barely stay on, and I have to double tie the drawstring to ensure I stay clothed.

As soon as I’m finished dressing, I glance at the door, debating what to do.

I could lock Dylan out and tell him to fuck off.

But he’s the kindest one here, and the smell of whatever he brought me has wafted into the room.

So, taking a deep breath, I cautiously open the door.

I crane my neck up to look at him, and his smile returns.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says softly, his emerald eyes shining. I ignore the flip my stomach does at the pet name. “Are you hungry?”

I can’t help but return his easy smile, despite the fucked-up situation. “Honestly, I’m fucking starving.”

His grin grows, showing off dimples, and my heart stutters.

He’s sohandsome.

He looks like a surfer with his dirty blonde hair and sun-kissed face. Dressed in dark jeans and a green Henley that matches his eyes, he’s the epitome of a pretty boy.

My inner Omega swoons, but I cram her into a corner of my mind and tell her to shut up.

“You mind if I come in?” He asks. “Just to put the food down. It’s kind of hot.”

My smile fades. “It’s your house,” I murmur. “Don’t need to ask me.”

I step aside and he walks in, setting the tray on the wood desk in the corner of the room. “You’ve been asleep for about twelve hours,” he says kindly. “I figured you might want something to eat.”

Yes. I do. Food soundsamazingright now.