Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 381

“Don’t touch me!” Harrison shouted, voice sharp with panic.

But Felicity only grew bolder, leaping onto him and trying to pin him down.

“Harrison! I’m just trying to help you! Look—I’ve already taken off my clothes! Why won’t you take yours off?”

“No! Let go of me!” he yelled, twisting away from her desperate hands.

The more he resisted, the more excited Felicity seemed to become.

“What’s with that look? Are you actually scared I’ll eat you alive?” she teased, her tone half-crazed.

Felicity fumbled at the buttons of Harrison’s suit, but her fingers were clumsy and trembling. Frustrated, she snapped, “Ugh! Stop squirming! If you keep wiggling like that, I really can’t promise what I’ll do to you!”

Harrison’s scalp prickled with fear. Every warning bell in his head was blaring.

With a sudden burst of strength, he kicked out with both legs, sending Felicity tumbling off the couch.

She hit the floor with a scream of pain.

Harrison lay sprawled on the sofa, staring in horror at Felicity, who was now sprawled on the carpet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he gasped. For a moment, he wondered if she’d set him up and locked them in the room together—but then dismissed it; Felicity wasn’t exactly criminal mastermind material.

“Harrison! Why’d you kick me? Don’t you still consider me your friend?” she complained, glaring up at him.

He ignored her, struggling upright and making a beeline for the door. He turned the handle, only to find it locked tight.

“Damn it!” he cursed, anger surging as he realized just who was behind this. The thought that Selene had orchestrated this whole mess only made his blood boil hotter.

He rushed to the window next, but it, too, was locked. There was no way he’d just sit here and let himself become a victim.

Determined, Harrison scanned the room for anything useful. His gaze landed on the aromatherapy diffuser sitting on a side table.

Holding his breath, he walked over, turned his back to the device, and managed to yank its cord free despite the cuffs binding his hands behind him. He grabbed the heavy diffuser, trying to smash it against the window.

If he could just break the glass, maybe fresh air would come in—and he and Felicity could keep their heads.

But with his wrists cuffed, he couldn’t get enough leverage. Sweat poured down his face, slicking his hair to his forehead. After a few useless attempts, he had to give up and set the diffuser aside.

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