Dark Obsessions - Volume 2: Four Dark, Delicious Capture Fantasies Read online

  Table of Contents

  Get Three FREE Hot Reads!

  Hunted

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Punished

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Stalked

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Claimed

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Get Three FREE Hot Reads!

  Romance Unbound Publishing

  Dark Obsessions Vol II

  Hunted

  Punished

  Stalked

  Claimed

  Claire Thompson

  Edited by Donna Fisk & Jae Ashley

  Fine Line Edit by Gabriella Wolek

  Cover Art by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Copyright 2019 Claire Thompson

  All rights reserved

  Hunted

  Lured. Abducted. Trained. Hunted…

  False pretenses brought Mara to the island, where she’s held captive with other imprisoned young women. Forced to submit, brutally trained and harshly disciplined by sadistic taskmasters, Mara desperately seeks a way out.

  Dangerous, high-powered men use and abuse her at their whim, and Mara’s trainers demand far more than just her service as a sex slave to their guests. Still, nothing can prepare her for… the Hunt.

  Chapter 1

  “You’re perfect. Just what we’re looking for.”

  Mara blinked, not certain she had heard correctly. Hillary smiled and nodded as if Mara had spoken aloud. “You’re just the type of person we’re seeking for Pirate Island Luxury Resort & Spa. You have the experience. You’re young and single, so you won’t have a problem with moving. I must say, I admire your grit and determination, putting yourself through school, making it all on your own.” Her smile became sad as she reached across the small table to pat Mara’s arm. “Such a tragic story, Mara, losing your parents in a car accident at sixteen, no other family to speak of…” Tears actually filled the woman’s eyes.

  “It’s been ten years,” Mara offered, embarrassed at the unwanted sympathy, wishing she hadn’t said anything, despite Hillary’s rather insistent probing into her background. “I miss them every day, but they’re always in my heart.” Did that sound too corny? It was true, but did it make her sound unprofessional? Sitting up straighter, she said, “I really appreciate this opportunity.”

  Boy, did she! She’d only been unemployed for two weeks, but the severance package she’d received wouldn’t last much longer. What a horrible shock it had been when the owner of the small hotel she’d been successfully managing for two years informed her he’d sold the place to a large hotel chain that would be bringing in their own staff to run things. How incredibly lucky she’d been to land this interview with Wallace Hotels & Resorts, a well-established company with locations throughout North Carolina and the Outer Banks.

  Presumably, Hillary Wallace, executive vice president, not to mention daughter of the owner and CEO of the company, had the authority to make a job offer whenever she wanted. Yet it was almost too good to be true—a management position at a luxury resort with an incredible benefit package and nearly double the salary she had been making.

  Hillary’s smile brightened. “As I said, you’re just what we’re looking for. I’d like you to meet with Alex Carroll—he oversees operations at Pirate Island—for a final interview. My father—Mr. Wallace—will be there as well.” Her eyes moved over Mara’s face and body in an almost predatory way, making Mara uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny. To hide her discomfiture, she reached for her water glass.

  The waiter appeared beside them. “May I show you dessert menus?”

  With a brisk shake of her head, Hillary held out a credit card without having received the bill, not even bothering to look at the man. He took the card and melted away. Her gaze still focused on Mara, Hillary said, “As soon as you’re ready, I’ll make arrangements for our private jet to fly you directly to the island. You can take a tour of the facilities and discuss details of the job with Alex. If you like what you see and he likes what he sees”—she flashed an oddly evil grin—“I don’t see why you can’t start right away.”

  A private jet! Mara tried to keep her expression politely professional, though she couldn’t stop the smile of excitement that spread over her face. “That sounds great,” she said. “I could be ready in the morning, if that works.”

  “It works just fine. I’ll send a driver at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to bring you to the municipal airport. Pack an overnight bag, dress casually and don’t forget your bathing suit. We’ll put you up in one of the guest suites so you can experience for yourself the luxury we offer our guests.” Hillary stood, extending her perfectly manicured fingers toward Mara.

  Who said fairy tales didn’t come true?

  Mara had expected Hillary to meet her at the private airport and fly with her on the short trip to the island. But when the driver dropped her in front of a small but sleek jet on the tarmac, there was no one there to greet her.

  As Mara walked uncertainly toward the jet, its door lifted and a short flight of stairs was lowered. A middle-aged man in black pants and a white shirt, a pilot’s cap on his head, appeared at the top of the stairs. “Good morning,” he called down to her. “You must be Mara Stevens. I’m Captain Goddard. I’ll be flying you to the island.”

  Mara hoisted her small overnight bag onto her shoulder, gripped her briefcase resolutely and climbed the stairs. There were eight passenger seats, four to a side, upholstered in soft blue leather. “Let me help you with those.” The pilot took Mara’s overnight bag and briefcase and hoisted them into an overhead bin. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing toward the seats. “You can sit anywhere you like—you’re my only passenger today.”

  As Mara buckled herself in, he pointed to the galley at the front of the jet. “We’ll only be in the air about thirty minutes, but feel free, once we’re at cruising altitude, to help yourself to a drink, snacks, whatever you want.” He gave an apologetic smile, adding, “Sorry, there’s no flight attendant on board.”

  “Oh, that’s fine,” Mara interjected, extremely surprised the company was going to this kind of expense just for her. “Really, I’m fine. This is fantastic.”

  The pilot flashed her a smile, though his eyes seemed sad. “Good, then. I’ll radio the tower that we’re ready to go. I’ll leave the cockpit door ajar, in case you need anything.”

  “Okay, thanks. Thanks very much,” Mara said. She settled b
ack in the oversized, comfortable seat, a far cry from the narrow seats of commercial jetliners, and sighed contentedly as the pilot disappeared into the cockpit.

  She would use the flight time to review the Wallace Hotel & Resort data she’d brought along for reference. Yet once the plane was in the air, she decided just to relax—she was confident she was up to speed on the company’s assets and corporate business model.

  When the pilot gave her the all clear, she unbuckled her seat belt and walked to the galley, where she found packets of gourmet cookies and chips, cold sodas and bottles of beer and wine. She selected some chocolate chip cookies and a can of Dr. Pepper and settled back down, staring out the window at the ocean below.

  The flight was smooth and the pilot landed the jet with barely a bump. After a moment, he stepped out of the cockpit. “Welcome to paradise,” he said. He unlatched and opened the door while Mara retrieved her things.

  As Mara came up beside him, the pilot pulled a lever and a set of stairs slowly unfolded to the ground. Stepping aside, he gestured toward the opening. “I’ll be returning directly to the mainland.” His grin faltered a moment, his face darkening as he regarded her, but then he shrugged, as if shrugging away an unwelcome thought, and smiled once more. “Good luck.”

  Mara wondered at the man’s odd reaction and decided he was disappointed he wasn’t joining her in “paradise.” Nervous excitement bubbled in her gut as she stepped into the warm sunshine and climbed down the few steps of the plane. She drew in a deep breath of the damp, salt-laced air and looked across the pink sand at the beautiful blue-green sea. Heaven!

  At the bottom of the stairs a dark-haired, swarthy man in a white shirt waited in a red golf cart with the words Pirate Island painted in gold on the side. As Mara approached the cart, the man jumped out and reached to take her things, which he stowed in the back seat of the cart. “Climb in,” he said as he returned to the driver’s seat. “I’m Ronaldo.”

  “Mara Stevens,” Mara said in her professional voice, turning and extending her hand.

  “Very nice to meet you.” The man’s eyes moved with undisguised admiration over her body and bare legs as he took her hand. Instead of the brisk shake she had expected, he held her hand several beats too long until she pulled it away, confused and put off by the man’s rude behavior. She made a mental note of his name, wondering if Mr. Wallace knew his employee behaved so unprofessionally with guests.

  Ronaldo faced forward, a strange smile on his face. The cart began to move, its tires crunching over the shell-strewn sand. After passing between some dunes covered with undulating sea grass, they moved onto a wide, paved road bordered on either side by tall, stately trees beneath a deep blue sky.

  The cart slowed but didn’t stop as a two-story building made of stone and wood with plenty of glass came into view. That must be the main hotel and reception area. Oddly, the place was deserted, not a soul in sight.

  Moving past the wide circular driveway in front of the structure, Ronaldo steered the cart along a paved path to the right of it. Behind a riot of tropical foliage there appeared a large bungalow with white stucco walls and red-tiled roof. He parked in a small driveway to the side of the house and got out of the cart.

  “This way,” he said, waving toward the front door.

  “My things?” Mara said, taking a step toward the back of the cart.

  “You won’t be needing them,” the man replied decisively. “Come along. Mr. Wallace is waiting.”

  Mara wanted her briefcase, but Ronaldo was already heading toward the door. Uncertain, she decided he was right—she was wearing a sundress and sandals, dressed casually as Hillary had suggested. She would present herself as confident but relaxed, just the sort of image required at a beach resort.

  Ronaldo touched a doorbell and Mara could hear its chimes. She noted the keypad set into the door just below the knob. After a moment, she heard the click of a lock being released. She drew in a breath and put on her professional smile as she waited for the door to open. Instead, Ronaldo turned the knob, opened the door and gestured for Mara to enter. She’d expected a suite of offices, but found instead a large, furnished living room filled with white wicker furniture, glass tables with vases of tropical flowers and a stone-tiled mosaic floor. The room was empty.

  “Back here,” Ronaldo said, leading her to sliding glass doors that comprised the entire back wall of the room. Ronaldo pulled the slider open and they stepped onto a spacious veranda with more wicker furniture and a full bar in the corner, complete with rows of liquor bottles, its countertop a long, smooth slab of polished wood. The veranda was entirely screened in, a sandy shore beyond the screen, a long strip of dark blue ocean visible at the horizon.

  Three men were seated about the space, glasses of amber liquor over ice in their hands. The oldest, a ruddy-faced man of about fifty with dark, curly hair laced with silver appraised Mara over the lip of his glass with small, shrewd eyes. Mara recognized him from internet searches she’d done on Daniel Wallace. He was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt over shorts.

  Mara stepped toward him, hand outstretched. “Mara Stevens,” she said with a smile.

  Oddly, he didn’t stand to greet her, nor did the other two men. Instead, as if she hadn’t even spoken and wasn’t standing there with her hand extended, Dan Wallace said, “My, my, my, Hill outdid herself this time.” He rubbed his hands together, an ugly expression on his face. “We’re going to make a fortune on this one.”

  Mara dropped her hand and took a step back. “What—” she began, confusion and shock twisting in her gut.

  A second man, maybe thirty-five, with thick reddish-brown hair cut a little long, fine, aquiline features and brilliantly green eyes interrupted her. “Let’s see her naked.”

  “What?” Mara cried again, the word bursting from her mouth in a sharp, incredulous bark. She looked wildly between the four men, who all regarded her with nasty smiles. She took another step back and turned toward the sliding doors, a vague but urgent idea of escape forming in her mind.

  Ronaldo stepped between her and the doors, blocking her way. She whirled back toward Wallace, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own voice over its beat. “I’m here for a job interview. What is this? What was that man talking about?”

  Wallace continued to grin his ugly grin. As if she hadn’t spoken, Wallace turned to the third man, a younger, more muscular version of himself, with the same mop of curly hair, though without the silver, and the same close-set, shrewd gaze. “What do you think, DJ? Did your sister find us a live one?”

  The younger man nodded, his small eyes narrowing. “Oh, yeah,” he said fervently. “I like Alex’s idea. Let’s see her naked.”

  Mara swayed, dizzy with shock and fear. This couldn’t be happening. She had to get out of there. She had to get help. Her cell phone was in her briefcase outside in the cart. She would call 9-1-1, but how would they get to the island? She didn’t even know where she was!

  Wallace gestured toward Mara with his chin. “Go ahead, boy. Let’s see the goods.”

  DJ jumped eagerly to his feet. As he stood, he pulled something from his cargo shorts pocket and flicked it open with a snick and a flash of silver. Terrified, Mara took another step back, bumping against Ronaldo. Strong arms reached from behind, hard fingers digging into her shoulders.

  DJ moved closer, the switchblade gleaming in his grasp. “Relax, baby,” he said, his eyes glittering with malevolent lust. He grabbed the front of her dress. “You’ll be fine as long as you stay still.” She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried, caught in Ronaldo’s firm grip. With his other hand, DJ drew the tip of the knife down the fabric, which parted with a ripping sound.

  “Oh my god,” Mara whispered, breathless with shock as Ronaldo pulled the torn dress from her body. DJ slipped the cold blade between her breasts and yanked it forward so the bra, too, fell open. Mara nearly fainted as the knife slid beneath the elastic of her panties and ripped them easily from her body.
She sagged against Ronaldo, too terrified to make a sound.

  Wallace leered at her with a wolfish expression. “Excellent breasts. Long legs. She looks strong. She’ll give the guys a run for their money during the next hunt.”

  Mara could make no sense of this bizarre statement, but Alex nodded in apparent agreement. He was also staring at Mara, but his expression was colder, more assessing, as if he were reviewing the contents of a shipment of books or a case of wine. DJ stood nearby, one hand rubbing the bulge at his crotch, the knife still in his other hand.

  The room tilted as Mara’s legs turned to jelly. She sagged hard against the driver as her eyes fluttered closed.

  When she opened her eyes, it took several seconds to figure out where she was, or whose face was gazing intently into hers. She was slumped in a chair, naked. “There you are,” Alex said, leaning back on his haunches. “We lost you for a minute there. Welcome back.”

  Mara wrapped her arms protectively around herself, leaning forward, elbows on her thighs to hide her nudity as best she could. She looked toward Dan Wallace. “Please,” she begged, “there’s been some kind of horrible mistake. I’m here for a job interview for a management position. You must have me confused with someone else.”

  “No confusion,” Wallace said with a cruel smile. “At least not on our part. Admittedly, you were brought here under false pretenses”—he shrugged dismissively—“but that’s your problem, not ours. Go on”—he gestured again toward Alex—“tell the little lady what the score is.“

  Mara looked to Alex, both desperate and terrified to hear his explanation. “Keeping it short and sweet for now, you’ve been abducted, Mara. Your former life is over. Your apartment will be emptied, your car disposed of, your life erased. You are now the property of Pirate Island, to be used and enjoyed as we see fit. Your life is quite literally in our hands.”

  Mara stared in speechless, horrified confusion at the man who stood and stepped back from her. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening.