Dark Surrender

by Quin Zayne

Her consent was binding, complete with her initials on each disclaimer for medical and psychological risks, a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement, and her vow of obedience. Yes, yes, and yes.

  She was his.

  Her hand shook as she handed his contract to him.

  Damon accepted the tablet, checked her signature, and returned the tablet to its place over his heart.

  “Excellent.”

  His arrogant smile chilled her, but the way his eyes examined her, remaking her, got her hot.

  Here was a client with imagination and limitless money. Now, instead of creating a design, she was going to become one. His design.

  “Thank you for the opportunity,” she murmured, clinging to her interview manners.

  A smile flickered at the corner of his lips, and his big, powerful hands rested on his muscular thighs. He sat there at ease so near her, she could touch him if she dared.

  “Oh, you’re more than welcome. I’m delighted I found you.” His rumbling voice shot to her clit.

  She looked forward to getting started.

  “I mean it. Thanks for choosing me,” she whispered, her voice lost in the enormous library.

  “It had to be you. You’re the one.”

  She wasn’t sure she heard him right, his voice came out so soft, so tender. She swallowed. What was happening here?

  “Tell me why?” She jerked back from him, she hadn’t meant to blurt the question.

  His hand rose and reached for her. With the gentlest touch, he caressed her face.

  The feel of him on her skin was so electric, her heart slammed at her ribs like a wild thing in a cage.

  His golden eyes filled with sadness so deep she could drown. “If you’re good—or tragically bad, dear Rose—I might have to tell you. Pray I never do.”

  The Test

  Damon Karl’s mouth pressed into a line, changing his handsome face to a forbidding one.

  “Thank you for your consent. It’s time to prepare for our departure. This is your chance to notify anyone who might be concerned about your absence. As you must realize from the non-disclosure agreement, you are not allowed to give out any details. To be clear, that means you are to inform no one about me, our agreement, or anything about any aspect of our agreement. Not the slightest hint.”

  “Our departure?”

  “Yes. We’re going to my island. I have the clinic there and the gifted surgeon I mentioned, as well as a full staff to see to your comfort. As noted in the ad and the contract, this is an extended process.”

  “Oh. We’re departing when?”

  “As soon as you finish your calls. My plane is ready to take off once we arrive at the airstrip.”

  His plane. That phrase made clear what a different world she’d entered.

  Mandy sputtered, at a loss. She hadn’t envisioned it all happening now. Somehow, she thought she’d have time to adjust, to get ready. How could she ever be ready? Instead, bam, it was happening now.

  “What about my things? I need to pack, and to see my landlord, and—.”

  “No. That’s not necessary. I’ll have someone pack and store your things and pay any rent that’s due. There’s no point in keeping the apartment. You’ll live anywhere you want in the future.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry. You can send instructions about your belongings from the plane, if you have things you want to give away or any calls you forgot to make. The only restriction is you must honor the non-disclosure agreement. I’ll know it if you don’t. Make sure no one will report you as a missing person.” He flashed even, white teeth. “You won’t have Internet on the island, so you’ll have to consider anything you want to communicate right now. It will be better for you to complete your calls here. I suggest a phone tree approach. Plan your message, convey it, and ask each recipient to pass it on. Less wear and tear that way, and less time wasted. I’m eager to get started, aren’t you?”

  To his beaming confidence, there was only one answer.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” She nodded and smoothed her skirt. This was outrageous. No goodbyes, and some stranger was going to handle all her things. She sighed. “Couldn’t I go and pack, please? I’ll be fast.”

  His mouth tightened. “No. It’s time to make your calls. Be efficient. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my island.” His clipped tone made it clear she’d get no further answer.

  “Right.” She nodded, torn between wanting him not to think she was stupid, and a horror at the abyss swallowing her life.

  As of now, she was in his power. Despite his beauty, the reality of someone else having utter control over everything made her heart slam at her ribs.

  The one leak in his plan was he allowed her to leave his sight at the Sky Lounge. She was proud of herself for she telling Ken Damon’s name. At least one person in the world knew what happened to her.

  “Think of a plausible excuse, and be sure to inform them that you will be out of touch, perhaps caring for someone without access to phone or Internet service. Any excuse you want, only make it believable.”

  She nodded, though she didn’t believe it herself. If anyone called her with such a tale, she’d be worried. The call to Ken would be tricky. If Damon was going to stay and listen, she had to pretend she hadn’t already called.

  The billionaire showed no sign of leaving. Right. She’d signed away her privacy.

  Her fingers shook on her phone. She felt him watching and her face flamed. She meant to be so much more composed. To wow him.

  Something about him felt too intense. She couldn’t couldn’t shake the suspicion that he might want a victim of some kind.

  Nothing about the audition and his giving her the job made sense. Her performance hadn’t been smooth at all. She fainted, she choked—it seemed impossible that he picked her. Unless he had her investigated, and chose her because she was single, poor, and orphaned. Someone he could snatch without consequences. Her throat constricted. She had to stop being paranoid. This was the opportunity of a lifetime.

  “I’m sorry. I’m excited about this, really. Just nervous.” She closed her eyes. Perhaps she could get through to him. “Wouldn’t it be possible to have one day to say goodbyes and take care of my things? I’m not the sort of person who disappears.”

  Mandy disappeared. It already happened, and she agreed to it. Her mouth went dry.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  She wished she could take back the words.

  “You don’t understand, and I don’t like to repeat myself. Pay attention. You belong to me now. I own you. I’m transforming you. There’s no Mandy any longer. You’re my personal companion, designed to please me in every way. You’re Rose now.”

  “Rose.” She stumbled over the name, her tongue resisting this assault on her identity.

  He meant it. His face showed his solid intent. He meant to erase her.

  To him, she was no different from an oil field or a plantation. She was less than an employee, she was some kind of malleable asset acquired to produce specific results. Her value to him rested in her ability to match his expectations.

  “Embed your name in yourself. You must sound natural when you speak it. You will answer to it without hesitation.”

  “Rose.” She said it softly, as though it were hers.

  Her jaw tightened. She forced herself to relax, pretending Ken was about to snap a close-up shot. She could do this.

  Damon Karl was a bastard, a pure bastard. But she wanted to please him.

  She leaned toward him, nervous as the virgin she truly was. “I understand you want to leave soon. I’ll be fast with the calls. There are only a couple of people to notify. I have a friend I trust to tell a good story.” She cleared her throat. “Do you want to touch me now, I mean, for a minute, now that it’s official?”

  He made a sound in his throat like a growl. His skin went pale around his sculpted lips.

  “You,” he took a breat
h. “You have no idea. You’re a girl who reaches into the fire, aren’t you?”

  He locked her in his arms and pulled her to him. His mouth took hers in a brutal kiss.

  Hunger surged through her, a crazy heat that centered in her clit and deep inside. She pressed against him, answering his passion, swept up in his ravenous taking of her lips.

  She clung to him and his big hands crushed her.

  A distant whimper came from her throat, and he devoured that, too.

  He broke the kiss, leaving her dazed.

  Like a mask snapping into place, he sat rigid, locked in his iron control. “Don’t say a word.”

  He checked his watch that looked like a freaking command center on his wrist. It probably had more power than her laptop. “Make your calls.”

  “But—” she shut her mouth. He didn’t like to repeat himself. One of many preferences she planned to brand into herself in the interest of making this a bit less scary. Ha. Ha. “Right. I’ll get on with it.” She glanced up at him as she fumbled with her phone, erasing the record of her earlier call to Ken. “Do you um, want me to call you something in particular?”

  “When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  His coldness stabbed her. It was as though he’d demoted her to housekeeper, and not one he planned to keep. Whatever had happened, whatever went wrong, she had to stay far from that ice cave. She’d made it this far, she wasn’t going to risk losing this gig.

  She dialed Ken, hoping he wouldn’t answer.

  Landing

  “We’re approaching the island. Buckle your seatbelt.” The unfamiliar voice cut into her dozing.

  Mandy jumped, bumping her head on the window. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she searched for the source. It must have been the pilot. She whipped toward the window and some of her hair fell loose and flew across her cheek and into her mouth.

  As she spit out the strands, the island appeared.

  An emerald gem with a cream border, it sat in the turquoise sea, lovely and improbable. And remote, so remote, from the only home she’d known. At least there was a beach. Walking would help her stay sane. Provided he didn’t keep her in a cell.

  She shook her head. Thoughts like that did no good.

  This was her choice. The abrupt departure was jarring. No doubt he meant to disrupt her life as completely as possible. That would be in keeping with his plans to make her into his doll.

  The one mercy: she’d gotten her wish. Her call to Ken went to his voice mail. Under Damon’s close watch, she gave her excuse of house sitting, a good paid gig where she could save up some money, but would be out of touch for months. The handful of people who would care knew she’d been burning out for months. She left similar messages for her friend Lisa, and her landlord. She choked up, apologizing for not saying goodbye in person. He’d been kind to her. Withdrawing from classes online was easier but more wrenching than she’d expected.

  It was done. This was her life now, this vast mystery under the control of the man who seduced her into giving up her freedom for a chance at a million bucks.

  Drumming her fingers on the seat arm, she hoped to hell it would be worth it.

  As the plane homed in on the impossible beauty of the island, she roused herself and buckled her seatbelt. Damon made it clear he didn’t like to repeat himself.

  She craned around to find him, but he was nowhere in sight. Maybe he was in the cockpit, or the head, whatever you call the john on a plane.

  She giggled. Somehow it helped to think he was a man who needed to use a toilet like anyone else. Cutting him down to size might get her through this.

  Clutching the seat arms, her stomach wobbled.

  The plane descended, but it did so smoothly, the island growing larger until the wheels touched down on a runway through the jungle.

  They were here. He had her in an impossibly isolated setting where anything could happen. She rubbed her arms and resisted the urge to unbuckle. Best to get in practice avoiding Damon’s displeasure. No doubt he’d come for her, or some lackey would.

  Coconut palms swayed outside the window. It was all she could see of the place. Her mouth went dry. Anything could happen in a place like this.

  The cockpit slid open and Damon emerged, grinning like a boy.

  “I like to do the landing myself.”

  She drew in her breath. Damn. She hoped he was qualified for that.

  The plane was another of his toys, like her. Forcing a smile, she dug her nails into her palms. There was a lot on the line. Time to be charming.

  “That was a smooth landing, truly excellent.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to humor me, Rose.”

  She flinched at the still unfamiliar name. “I mean it. I don’t like to fly, or be a passenger at all. It was a relief that the plane touched down smoothly.”

  “Alright.” He nodded, accepting her sort-of apology.

  Tough to please him. Sincerity required. Made sense he had a strong bullshit detector. People must line up to kiss his billionaire ass.

  “I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Yes, you did. It’s a long flight.”

  She longed to ask where they were, but she wasn’t going to make that mistake again. If she’d remained awake, she might be able to figure out how far they were from San Francisco. It was irrelevant, though. Her location was one of many things she no longer had any control over.

  She stretched.

  Those amber eyes roved over her, catching where her wrap blouse revealed a slice of bra lace.

  His face relaxed. “You can unbuckle now. Come on. I’ll show you the place.”

  She felt around on the seat. All she had was her small purse from the interview. Snagging the strap, she stood, disoriented at having no luggage. When she’d traveled to shoots—. Well, those days were over.

  Sighing, she followed Damon Karl’s strong straight back off the plane. With those shoulders, he could have played football. Heirs to a fortune probably didn’t do that, though. An image of him tackling her in the jungle for sport lanced through her core. He’d growl, rip off her blouse and panties, bite and ravish—and spear her hymen. A jolt of desire shot through her. If she was fated to be pinned down and fucked, getting it from a blazing hot, muscular billionaire…yeah, she’d go there. Down, Mandy, down. She swallowed and descended from the plane with care.

  Removing his jacket and tapping his foot, Damon watched her with narrowed eyes.

  The heat hit her like a blast from a pizza oven. Her breath whooshed out of her.

  “I should have warned you. Welcome to the tropics. Come on, the path to the house is in the shade.” He guided her into the jungle.

  “Great.” Points for keeping the sarcasm under control.

  Under the trees, the temperature remained hot and sultry. Her clothes clung to her.

  The view of his dress shirt molding to his shoulder blades and muscular back made the trek endurable. She hurried to keep up with his long strides. She wanted to get out of the heat as soon as possible. More than anything, she wanted the blessed relief of air conditioning.

  The fantastical dark amber building looming ahead made her lose her step. She faltered and stared. It looked like a sculpture rising out of the side of a volcano. It had a tower, and beautiful handmade tiles on the roof, and it was the same color as the mountain, giving the impression of a sculpture, something out of nature, but embellished by an artist.

  Damon hadn’t paused. She rushed to catch up to him. Climbing the steps rising up to a lush courtyard with a fountain and a nearly-hidden door left her winded.

  The hot bastard didn’t even breathe hard. Tempting to doubt his humanity. He resembled a vampire, aside from being so devastating in sunlight.

  He opened the heavy door with a flourish, as though welcoming her into the heart of the volcano.

  Tales of virgins sacrificed in bubbling calderas flashed through her mind. She entered the shadowy portal.

  Bliss. When the cold air
hit her, she made a slow turn, allowing it to cool her all over. She wouldn’t care if she’d walked into hell, the chill felt so good all over her body.

  He stood by the door, a smile playing over his lips.

  “You brighten up the place.” He passed his hand over his beard.

  “Thank you. It’s an amazing place.”

  “I’ll show you to your suite.” The glow in his eyes skidded away.

  He seemed determined to keep a distance.

  She swallowed, and kept her face down. Curiosity about the strange dwelling gnawed at her, but she was here to please. Falling into step beside him, she ascended the staircase.

  His shoulders seemed to relax as he reached the dark upper floor. Partway along the window-less hall, he came to a stop.

  She rocked on her heels at the sudden halt and managed not to run into him.

  He opened double doors on a gorgeous, huge bedroom with an adjoining study and an en suite bath. French doors led out to a balcony overlooking the sea.

  Blinking at the sudden sunlight, she shaded her eyes and stepped into the room. Okay, this was not a cell. The suite fit a feature in a homes-to-drool-over magazine. Tile floors, high ceiling, curved walls, exquisite, tasteful furnishings, and a to-die-for view.

  She whistled. “It’s lovely.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I want you to be comfortable here. You’re not a prisoner.”

  It was as though he’d read her thoughts about the cell.

  She blushed, and on impulse let loose her hair and shook it out over her shoulders.

  Those lion eyes fallowed its fall. She couldn’t help blushing, so she had tricks to distract from it.

  “I’m sure I’ll be comfortable. Thank you.” She refrained from gushing about how huge the rooms were compared to her studio. A pang went through her as she flashed on her tiny slice of ocean view.

  “Good.” He gestured to a silken cord with a tassel. “If you need anything, pull this to summon an attendant.”

  “Okay,” she nodded, awkward at the though of summoning a servant.

  “Relax. Have a nap or a soak, or take a look at your lessons on the computer. You’re free to explore the house, but don’t open any closed doors.”