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.

Hunted is a Dark Obsession Series novel. Erotic non-con that’s not for the faint of heart. Read only if you dare.
Excerpt from Chapter 1

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.

Alex nodded toward Ronaldo. “Let’s get her up. Take her to the girls’ quarters for prep and then on to Dr. Morgan for her exam.”

The men converged on her and Mara was forcibly lifted from the chair. Her arms were yanked behind her back and something cold and hard clicked over her wrists, cuffing them together. “No!” She struggled against the men. “You can’t do this! Help me! Help!”

A sudden, sharp slap to her face stunned her into silence. Alex leaned close, so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Keep that pretty mouth shut, Mara. There’s no one to appeal to. We own this island and we own you. The sooner you can acclimate yourself to your new circumstances, the better off you’ll be. If there’s one lesson you need to learn quickly, it’s this: good girls get rewarded; bad girls get punished. Severely.”