Next, he went in search of a wok, which he found easily.

Glancing at the door again, he wondered if he should wait until she was actually awake. He quickly decided against it as his stomach gurgled. Now, he got to work preparing his meal.

With the already cooked noodles waiting to be added, he started to put the vegetables into the pan, giving them a quick toss. When it was ready for the noodles, he flicked them up, keeping up a constant moving action. The moment everything was combined, he drizzled over the sauce, and the smell was intoxicating.

He’d been learning to cook for a long time. A skill his mother had been teaching him. He actually enjoyed being in the kitchen and saw no harm in it.

With the sauce bubbling, he continued to move the ingredients around in the pan. Would Mabel be impressed with his skills?

An old memory of him taunting her in cooking class flooded his mind. He’d commented on her size and how she needed to learn how to cook to keep her fat ass.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” he said.

Each memory filled him with pain. It was no longer funny to him or amusing. The shit he’d pulled in high school, and now her as his mate, it was all a lesson. He knew that. The love of his life was the woman he’d bullied, and now his very sanity hung in the balance. He had to win her over. There was no other woman for him, and what was more, he didn’t want another.

Chapter Three

Jolting up in bed with a gasp, Mabel glanced around the room and winced. Gripping her neck, she groaned. Yep, drugged. She didn’t know why she’d been drugged, but as she swung her feet toward the floor, she made to stand up but felt so woozy, so she quickly sat down and decided standing was a little overrated.

She put her hand to her stomach and looked at the cabinet beside the bed. An envelope sat with her name on it, propped up against the lamp. She reached out, taking it and sliding the letter out of the envelope.

Mabel

We’re so sorry sweetheart, but we have to do it this way. It keeps the sanctity of the island. We will see you within the year. Please, give love a chance. Give Lucas a chance. This is your only hope of survival. We hope you’re able to forgive him.

We’ll miss you.

Love, your parents.

The urge to tear the letter up was strong. She’d been drugged to get her into this house and now, she was alone with her … mate.

She folded the letter back up, returning it to the envelope.

“Great. Just great.”