Hunted (2 page)

* * *

Home.

Rex always breathed a sigh of relief when he arrived at the resort they jokingly called Fantasy Island. It was more than the gentle Caribbean breeze, the beautiful azure of the ocean, the long white beach and the lush vegetation. It was more than the soft music and the wonderful food and the beautiful people—both staff and guests. It was more than the knowledge fantasies were being fulfilled, both in the main resort, which catered to couples, and the more clandestine resort that was part of The Phoenix network. It was more than the security and confidence of knowing that on this island, and the smaller wild island owned by the resort, Rex was king and he made the law.

It was home because this was where his family was.

He had to go through both resorts upon arrival, as was his routine. He conferred with the site managers about details and reservations. He solved crises that had arisen since his last visit, he greeted guests and welcomed new staff members. He approved budgets and bookings and checked that all was as it should be. These were obligations but also pleasures, for Rex liked to see that the club was running well. He’d always been the kind of owner who was personally involved with every detail.

Dinner was being served in four different restaurants by the time he was done. The bar by the beach was full, and the bar further down the beach with a dance floor was already emitting a tempting beat. He could feel the pulse of the BDSM bar that linked the two properties, a vicarious thrill for those guests at the main resort and a key stalking ground for those at the other, more clandestine resort.

He’d save the pleasure of visiting it for his second night home.

He walked along the pathway between the guest rooms, so beautifully tended and lined with flowering shrubbery. There was a floral scent in the air, but he couldn’t name what flower made the perfume. His bags had been sent ahead, so Michelle would know he was coming.

Rex anticipated how they would meet again. He’d been gone several weeks this time, what with the opening of Windswept, and he was more than ready to see Michelle. He thought of the box of pink satin ribbon he’d given to her, once upon a time, and recalled all too easily how delicious she looked bound tightly in it. He’d look in on their son, kiss him goodnight and play with him in the morning.

Tonight, he’d play with Michelle. Their reunions were always hot, as if they were discovering each other for the first time. The sex could be so potent Rex was starting to think people should take breaks from each other.

It made them appreciate each other.

It added some uncertainty.

It guaranteed he was harder than hard every time he walked down this pathway to the arty little bungalow hidden away from it all. Michelle called it their love nest, and Rex was going to spend at least one night making love in it again.

In his pocket was a gift for his beloved, an idea he’d gotten from Reid. It was a chain, custom measured and made, designed to wrap around a woman in a specific way and lock securely. It made her feel bound and bejeweled, plus rubbed against her clitoris all the time, reminding her that she was owned. As soon as he’d seen Reid’s chain on Kendra, he’d known Michelle needed one of her own, a little reminder of him when he was gone.

Michelle’s was made of beads of rose gold, because he liked her in pinks.

The ribbon first or the chain of beads? Rex’s heart thudded, and he couldn’t decide.

Maybe he’d make her choose.

He reached the door and tapped once before opening it. Though it was their home, it always felt like Michelle’s haven to him. He didn’t wait for a reply, but opened the door. As always, the house was filled with the wind from the sea. The bungalow was on the far side of the island from the resort, where the coast was rocky instead of having a beach. Part of the house extended over the water, the oceanside wall composed of glass and sliding doors. There was a deck beyond, which was divine beneath the stars, and beyond the view of anyone else in the world.

Maybe the deck, under the night sky, would be where they played tonight.

Rex flicked the door closed behind him, scanning the interior. The decor was all rattan and white linen, radiant even at night. There were candles all over the living room, but strangely, none of them were lit. The kitchen was dark, the deck even more dark.

As if he were unexpected.

But his bags had been delivered ahead of him. Michelle had to know he was coming. He glanced into Trevor’s room, his heart stopping at the sight of his son’s empty bed.

Panic struck him. What was going on?

Rex heard rustling from the bedroom, which also faced the ocean, and strode toward that room. He might have hoped for a surprise of the best kind, but with Trevor’s bed empty, he had a bad feeling.

One glance proved he was right.

Michelle was zipping a suitcase closed, the line of her lips tight with determination. She wasn’t surprised to see him, but didn’t stop. She hefted the bag to the floor, then looked at him from the other side of the bed.

“Where’s Trevor?”

“I sent him ahead. I’m not going to keep him from you, Rex, but I didn’t want him to hear this.”

Rex leaned in the doorway, striving to appear calmer than he felt. “Hear what?”

“You know what I’m going to say.”

“I’m waiting for you to say it.”

Michelle heaved a sigh, glanced away, and then looked back at him. “It’s not real here, Rex. It’s not normal for people to control everything about them, but I thought you knew best.”

“I thought you felt safe here. I thought you found it reassuring.”

“I did.” Her lips tightened even more. “Until I discovered that it was a lie.”

“What are you talking about?”

Michelle, though, had already walked to the laptop on the dresser. It was the one she used here. She tapped it with a fingertip and Rex realized it had been on, but sleeping. She spun it so he could see the screen.

It was a picture of him, bound to a bed in Athena’s house.

The picture Amy had taken of him.

The picture in which he was blowing his load, because he hadn’t been able to do anything else. He hated the sight of himself. He looked weak. He looked like a victim. He was furious with Amy for what she had done, documenting it, and sending it to Michelle.

“We never promised to be faithful all the time,” he protested, believing that was the issue.

“No. I told you to do what you wanted to do. I knew you needed that freedom.” Michelle shook her head, then folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve felt safe with you, Rex, because you’re in control. I trust you to be in complete control, all the time.” She gestured to the image as Rex realized what bothered him about the image was the same thing that had shaken her. “But this shows that you’re not.”

“It was one night!” Rex said, stunned he could lose this partnership over one picture. “I was surprised…”

“No. You should never be surprised. There should never be even once.”

Her conviction silenced anything more Rex might have said.

One picture
had
changed everything.

In fact, Michelle showed a resolve and a confidence Rex knew he had encouraged in her. She picked up her bag. “I don’t want illusions, Rex. I wanted what you offered to be the truth. But it isn’t. And really, how could it be? No one can be in control all the time. No one is perfect.” Her voice softened. “I wanted you to be perfect. I wanted to idolize you. But if it’s not the truth, I’d rather deal with the whole mess of no one being in charge than the illusion of believing you always are.”

“But you can’t do that…” Rex argued because he thought he should, not because he believed he could change her mind.

She was really going to leave.

“I can, actually, because you can’t stop me. You won’t stop me. I’m going, Rex. I bought a house in New Orleans.” She smiled a little. “Back to my own roots. You’ll always be welcome—I’ve left the address.” She pointed to the nightstand and Rex saw that the box with the pink ribbons was there, a note perched on top of it. He closed his eyes, unwilling to believe this part of his life was over.

Michelle’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I won’t tell Trevor any lies about you—but I won’t have him believing lies about you either.” She picked up her bag and squared her shoulders.

If she hadn’t been leaving him, Rex would have been proud of the change in her. When he’d met her, she would never have asked for anything she wanted, much less demanded it. She would never have made such a choice and stepped out alone. Should he be proud he’d helped her grow into herself? His feelings were so mixed, because he’d given her the ability to leave him behind.

Her voice broke a little. “Don’t imagine that this is easy for me, Rex, but I know it’s the right thing for me to do.”

And because he saw the change in Michelle, because he knew this was the right choice for her, Rex didn’t argue.

Instead, he carried her bag for her.

They walked back to the resort in silence, because there wasn’t anything more to say. Just as Rex always suspected, appearances were more important than people believed.

And just as he’d always feared, he was alone again.

On another day, he might have been amused that it was all because of a picture.

On another night, he might resolve to get even with Amy.

For the moment, he accompanied Michelle to the helipad. He wondered how soon he’d be able to visit his son, and what he’d say to Trevor when he did. He didn’t know what else to say to Michelle. He kissed her cheek, then stood on the tarmac and watched until the helicopter had faded completely from sight and view.

* * *

Shara surveyed herself in the mirror, amazed by the transformation in her appearance. As expected, the full length dress left very little to the imagination. The sleeveless garment was essentially a long tube. One end was gathered with a drawstring she’d tied loosely so it draped from her shoulders. There was a slit down the front and another down the back to the waist, but she’d only nudged the back one open. The dress fit her waist and hips snugly, then spilled to the ground with so much fullness it swirled around her ankles when she moved. The feathers on the hem gleamed and seemed to catch the slightest breeze, making the dress flutter even when she was still. It was slit up the front from the hem to almost the top of her thighs, and when she walked, she caught naughty glimpses of her bare thighs. Her legs looked pale in contrast to the dark fabric.

She’d chosen to wear no undergarments with it, just in case Jared meant what she thought he meant about hooking up.

Shara had brought one pair of party shoes, a very high pair of black leather stilettos with wide bands around the ankles. She’d thought they looked like shackles and so were appropriate for this trip. They looked so awesome with the dress that she wished she had wrist bands to match.

She looked both naked and captive. It was perfect.

Shara pulled on the hood, liking how it fit over the top of her head. It had been a brilliant choice to have her hair cut short, although she hadn’t anticipated this game. The hood framed her vision slightly, compelling her to turn her head to see anything beside her. She’d been right about the feathers that hung to her shoulders—they flitted across her skin with every movement or touch of breeze, making her tingle with awareness.

She put on a glossy red lipstick and liked the effect. She put some on her nipples too, rubbing the color into the aureoles. Her breath was coming quickly already and she hadn’t even gotten to the party. She liked that she looked like a different person, maybe a woman with different fantasies. She liked that Jared had sent her this outfit, as if to make her into his fantasy.

Shara really liked the idea of that. She smiled at her reflection and tucked her room key into the pocket for that purpose she’d discovered in the waist of the dress.

All she had to do was find Jared.

It was strange and a bit surreal to walk through the hotel in her costume. Shara felt other guests turn to watch her, and she heard the whispers. In the main resort, there were dozens of couples, both straight and gay, most of whom were dressed with casual elegance for dinner. Certainly none of them were masked, even if a few women did wear some outfits that tended toward fetish. She didn’t speak to anyone, but followed the signs to the BDSM bar. Her palms were damp and her pulse raced. She felt as if her heart matched the beat of the dance music, and she felt herself get wetter.

The bar was filled with shadows, as well as guests in costume. There were also a lot of mirrors in the bar, which made it difficult to have a good sense of its size. By the volume of noise, it wasn’t that small. The majority of people in the bar were masked and most wore black. She could almost feel their gazes follow as she stepped into the bar and resisted the urge to turn to look back.

A Zorro nodded at her and smiled, his eyes sparkling behind his domino mask. He wore a white poet shirt, with tight dark pants and black boots. The brim of his hat shadowed his eyes and his black cape lifted in the breeze behind him. The way he looked at Shara made her tingle, but he was too muscled to be Jared. She smiled at him, and moved deeper into the throng.

It became hotter as she moved closer to the dance floor and louder, too, but she was a woman on a mission. There were dozens of men, every one of them sexier than the last. Even though she was faked out by the mirrors a couple of times, she couldn’t see a single candidate for Jared. There was a bandito, a Phantom of the Opera, a James Dean look-a-like, a guy in motorcycle leathers, a Spiderman as well as a Superman, a man in a tuxedo, a cowboy, a man in a kilt and a shackled naked slave awaiting a mistress. There were women, as well, although they were less interesting to Shara—a Nefertiti, a dominatrix in red latex, a schoolgirl in a very short plaid skirt and Mary Janes, as well as several women dressed as kittens and on leashes. The bar was large but not endless—it took Shara about half an hour to get a good look at every person there.