"You shouldn't be nervous. You'll spend most of the time in my cabin on the yacht."
My throat tightens. I'd already talked myself into gobs of fresh air and sunshine. "So I won't be allowed out?"
"I didn't say that." He doesn't sound certain. "We'll see."
A chilling realization washes over me. Kane has not allowed me to talk to any other men since the first time he allowed me to go to the party and then quickly sent me back to the room. That night, he was filled with rage when he came to my room. In the heat of passion, he made me swear that I belonged to him. I'd pushed the unsettling night out of my mind until now. Purposefully, it seemed.
I hear a glass clink onto a tray. The gears run again, taking the drinks away. I sit quietly with hands in my lap, my right hand fidgeting with the leather cuff on my left wrist.
"Does it bother you?" his question startles me. It seems the extra nectar has taken me past serene. I'm more edgy than normal. The earlier dark memory was new too.
"No, it's fine. Won't people notice?" I ask, lifting my hand.
"Doesn't matter. This is mostly for business. You're on this trip for one reason, to keep me from going mad without you." The edge of anger in his tone seems directed at me just as much as it is directed at himself.
"You should have just left me behind." It's the first time I've spoken sharply to him. I brace for his harsh response.
He laughs dryly. "Yes, that idea occurred to me more than once. Easier said than done. I told you, you are my weakness, my poison, my addiction."
I don't hear him move and startle when his finger loops through one ring and then the other. My arms are lifted above my head. He spins me around and tugs me back so I'm stretched out on the seat. My hands are quickly fastened. It seems even his cars are equipped with the necessary evils to satisfy his needs. The extra nectar makes me angrier, more cynical. But the frantic need to be fucked is still there. Stronger than ever.
I feel my panties slipping away. My dress is pushed up high around my waist. I cry out as his mouth presses against my hot pussy. His hands grab my ass, his thick finger impaling me from behind as he lifts me higher and harder against his hungry mouth. His teeth graze my throbbing clit, nearly launching me off the seat. He teases me again with his teeth before pushing his tongue into me. I break into a million shuddering pieces as I come against his mouth. The pulsating waves are still rolling through me as his body covers mine and he jams his cock into me. The orgasm reignites. My pussy clenches around him, gripping him inside of me.
I move my hands and am instantly reminded that they are tied above my head. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and hold him like I did when we were at the pool, but the other Kane is back today. There was a glimmer of human compassion in the man who made love to me on the pool chaise. He's gone again. Maybe I only imagined him.
Kane growls and stiffens against me as he comes. He collapses for a few seconds on top of me, warm and fragrant with the sweat of sex. I wait for him to release me, hoping for a quick cuddle before it's all over. But he climbs off of me first. He is kind enough to slip my panties back on. I hear his pants zip.
Finally my hands are free again. I can hear him sit on another seat, one across from me. We spend the rest of the trip in silence. I don't know if it's my state of mind or his, but something about the sex seemed cold and distant. It doesn't leave me with that usual helpless heart tug that lets me know I can never walk away from him. Something about this time is different. I am not just his weakness, his Achilles' heel. I am his poison.
9
Kane
She was a mistake. She is a mistake. But sometimes there is no going back, no fixing it. When I'm not with her, I think about her like she's a song playing through my head again and again. And there's no way to turn it off. I don't want to turn it off.
When I made the arrangements with the realtor to check out the remote islands off the coastline, I decided firmly to leave her behind. But the more I thought about being thousands of miles away from her, unable to touch her skin, smell the fragrance of her hair, hear the soft moans of ecstasy on her lips, I knew I had to take her along.
I rest against the cushioned bench at the stern of the yacht and watch as she walks along the starboard side, lifting her face every few seconds to the sunlight and taking deep breaths of the warm salt air. The underground complex is secure and private and has every luxury except the obvious . . . sunlight.
Her naturally golden skin has faded to pale ivory in the past two months. Christ, has it only been two months? I can hardly remember my existence before her. I just know it was easier, less worry. I was in control.
She smiles brightly as she sashays toward me in the green bikini. Far too much coverage as far as I'm concerned, but we are near other pleasure boats in the marina. For now. The extra large dose of nectar has worn off. Her mood has lightened. I reprimanded Blake for it, making sure he understood it wasn't like cream in coffee, a substance to adjust to your liking or taste. I have no doubt he got the message. It will never happen again.
"So this boat is all yours?" She picks up a glass of wine as she sits down next to me.
"Yes, all mine. Do you like it?"
"Don't think there's a person on earth who doesn't love a gleaming white yacht on a bright blue sea." She lifts her sunglasses and squints toward shore. The hills bordering the beach are deep green and lush with tropical plants. Several posh resorts dot the shoreline, breaking up the view of nature. "Where are we?"
"The Caribbean but we aren't staying long. I'm meeting a realtor who specializes in personal islands."
"Wow, personal islands, life's been good to you."
"If there is one sentence that can never be used to describe my life, it's that one," I say before I can stop myself. It's like that with her. I feel like I could just lie in her arms and tell her everything and she'd listen. That part distresses me the most. After all the years of being a loner and finding it suits me just fine, I found the one person who makes me hate my solitary existence. My obsession only grows stronger and gets more dangerous each time I'm with her. She is a mistake. I've let my guard down. I have no idea how to put it back up.
She stands up, turns around and kneels on the bench to look back over the stern. "So many rich people in expensive boats. Where did Blake and the guys go? Will we go ashore at all?"
As her flurry of questions rains down on me, I take advantage of her inviting position. I put down my glass and move to stand behind her. My cock presses urgently against her bottom. She squirms flirtatiously against it.
"We're surrounded by other people," she protests as my hand smoothes over her belly and down between her legs. Even so, she is pressing her ass hard against me, inviting more.
"No one can see below the railing." I yank the bottom of her bikini down. It puddles at her ankles. I groan as my fingers discover the silky cream of her wet pussy. I use the liquid to lube her ass. She cries out as I impale her from behind, but I cut it short by pressing my hand over her mouth. I lower my mouth to her ear. "Shh, Sweet Sin, your cries of pleasure are strictly for me. I won't share that with anyone. Do you understand?"
She nods her head. A low moan rolls up her throat as I pull my hand away. Her knuckles are white as she grips the railing and pushes against me.
I grit my jaw at the exquisite pleasure of fucking her ass. It will take me only seconds to come, but I won't allow it until she reaches orgasm. In the distance, Blake and my two bodyguards, Jason and Oscar, are walking back toward us along the dock. She gasps and stiffens in my grasp.
"Finish this, baby," I growl in her ear. "Finish before they reach the yacht."
My fingers plunge into her pussy. She grips my hand with her thighs, rubbing her clit against the side of my thumb, frantically working to reach orgasm.
"You're not concentrating," I whisper in her ear. "There are no boats or people. Just you and me. That's how it will always be. Just you and me. They are getting closer," I warn.
 
; A tiny whimper falls from her lips. I push three fingers into her. She grips me with her pussy, rocking against the pressure of my hand. A breath catches in her throat stifling the scream as her pussy shudders around my hand. Her entire body is wound tight with tension, holding in the shattering pulses of the orgasm, working hard to hide her ecstasy. The erotic energy she's holding in transfers to me. I press my mouth against her shoulder, biting her lightly to stifle my own groan of pleasure as I come.
Blake and the others are busy talking and sipping their drinks, hardly noticing us at the stern. I withdraw.
She quickly pulls up her suit. "I'm going down below," she says shakily. I follow her and reach for her as she steps into the bedroom. She pushes my hand away before collapsing into my arms. I carry her to the bed and lay her down, pressing a kiss against her forehead.
"You see, my sweet, you bring out the best in me." I kiss her again. "And you bring out the worst."
10
Angie
I wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep, my body covered in a sheen of sweat. It takes me a few minutes to figure out where I am. The walls of the bedroom are covered in polished teak paneling. The bed I’m curled up on has an ornate wrought iron headboard. No expenses were spared by the owner. And just where is the owner, I ask myself as I sit up in a groggy stupor. It seems the nectar’s ‘good’ effects, the serenity, the unexplained feeling of bliss and the mega dose of carnal lust, wear off quicker the longer I've been taking it. That falls into the same pattern as most addictive drugs, I remind myself. Addictive drugs are something I know a little about. The irony that I'm now one of the strung out junkies I spent my professional career trying to help is not lost on me. Blake has already increased my injections to three times a day just to ward off the headache and creepy crawlies. But I don’t want more. More injections will undoubtedly put me in a permanent, mindless haze.
I hear deep voices and laughter above. I recognize Blake’s instantly and the two guards, but I don’t hear Kane’s smooth tone. I glance down to discover I’m in my bathing suit. I shift to drop my legs over the side and my tender ass quickly reminds me of what happened moments before I collapsed in exhausted anguish. The ache in my head assures me that I cried myself to sleep.
I walk to the porthole in the wall and stare out. We are still in the marina, still sitting amongst the other yachts and pleasure boats. The sun is lower in the sky signaling that I’ve slept through most of the afternoon. My stomach is painfully empty, and I’m slightly nauseous from the subtle rocking of the boat.
I walk into the bathroom. It’s grander than a king's, with gold plated hardware and alabaster white tile. I turn on the hot water, needing badly to rid myself of the deep shiver that threatens to overwhelm me. But it’s not just from the nectar. I can no longer pretend or ignore what my inner self has been screaming all this time. I’m captive. I’m his captive, the madman’s prisoner. I need to find a way out.
The hot water clears my head more. If I skip a dose of nectar, I’m going to feel as if I’ve been chewed up and spit out. It’ll be hard, maybe even impossible to function. But then an injection will also make it hard to function. I'll just care less.
I’m convinced that Kane would never just return me to the streets. He would kill me first. I spent days worrying and fretting that he would tire of me and send me away or hand me off to his club members. If only he had. It is easy to see why Blake wanted so badly for it to happen.
A knock on the bathroom door startles me out of my thoughts. I'm relieved when Blake's face pops inside. "How are ya feeling? You were sleeping like a bear in winter." He steps into the bathroom. "And here I thought you'd be too excited about the fresh air and sunshine to rest."
I smile through the glass door at him. "I guess I was so overwhelmed by it, I got tired." Thankfully, it seems he didn't notice what was happening on the boat when he and the guards returned. If he had, he would have mentioned it to me. Discretely and without judgment because he was a good friend. But as close a confidante as he's become, I can't let him in on my plans to escape. As I stand in the shower it occurs to me this trip outside the underground compound is probably my only chance for freedom.
"Where is Mr. Freestone?" I ask casually as I rub shampoo through my hair.
Blake looks at the big chrome watch on his wrist. "He should be back in a few hours. He went to look at a couple islands."
The shampoo bottle slips from my fingers. Adrenaline shoots through me. A few hours with him away. It's all I need.
"We've got some food up on deck. Do you need some help getting dressed?" Blake asks.
I open the shower door and grin. "As I've told you before, I've been dressing myself like a big girl for many years."
"Yeah, yeah, big girl stuff, I know. I'll be back down in fifteen to give you your injection." He laughs. "Just hope I can manage it. Jason bought a bottle of tequila. We've been gulping down margaritas. No boss around is kind of nice for a change." He freezes and turns back to me. "Don't tell him I said that though."
"Never." The margarita buzz gives me a new idea. Rather than start a defense right then about skipping the nectar, I decide to take a chance that he'll just forget it.
Blake walks out. I quickly finish my shower and dry off. As the towel rubs my legs, the tiny invisible ants start their trek up my skin. I ignore the unsettling sensation. I don't have time to waste fretting about withdrawals. I'll deal with those once I'm free, I decide with what I know is ridiculous confidence.
I pull on shorts and a t-shirt. The leather cuffs and anklets sit on the dresser. Kane allows me to go without them on the yacht. My plan is to head straight to the local police station, wherever that might be. It could very well be a long trip. I would give anything for my favorite pair of sneakers, but they are sitting snuggly in my closet waiting for Angie's return. I'm stuck with sandals. I'm sure I can run just as fast and far in them with the right motivation behind me. And I'm motivated.
I hurry and leave the room, wanting to get up on deck and away from the bedroom as quickly as possible. It's part of the plan to make Blake forget the nectar. I also don't have minutes to waste.
The bright sun reminds me of the headache, the low thudding in my skull that has only just started. It will get worse, far worse. I have no choice except to power through.
Blake, Jason and Oscar are sitting on the deck chairs drinking margaritas. Blake and Jason have something more than a friendship going on. Blake shares snippets of details, but for the most part, they keep it out of plain sight. One thing is certain, Kane's men are very loyal. They would have to be or he would never keep them on. He lives an entirely clandestine existence. It seems he keeps it that way with undying allegiance from others. Only now he's broken his rule and pulled me into his secret world. Even though I've given myself to him in every way possible, I never swore any loyalty oath to the man.
Jason is a giant of man with a shaved head and tattoos that make him look nothing short of menacing. But he has a friendly enough smile when he's not in bodyguard mode. The two guards have never said one word to me. Jason is the first to see me step onto deck. He gently nudges Blake's foot with his own.
Blake looks starry eyed and happy to be sitting on a yacht with the man he loves. And out from under the watchful eye of the man he serves. The entire atmosphere on the boat is lighter without Kane on board.
Blake holds up a glass filled with a cold, slushy drink. "Here you go, darlin'. This one has your name on it." He's definitely drunker than I anticipated. It seems luck is still with me. There is no mention of nectar, except for in my mind where the pleasure centers in my brain are silently begging for it. I have to consciously avoid rubbing my arms or risk bringing it to Blake's attention.
I walk over and take the drink from his hand. I glance around at the endless scenery and focus on the shoreline. "I would love to take a walk around the shopping village I see in the distance. I can't buy anything but since I've been penniless most of my life, I've perfected the art of wi
ndow shopping. Or kiosk shopping in the case of the open air market." I end my little wishful thinking session with a pleading smile. "Since Mr. Freestone isn't around, maybe I could walk about for just an hour. I won't be long."
Blake looks over at the guards. They are both wearing black sunglasses, making it impossible to read their thoughts. In fact, it is always impossible to know what they are thinking. They play the part of the unflappable guards very well, like they've been trained to stand outside Buckingham Palace in tall black hats. In the end, I know Blake is higher on the decision pole than either of the guards. Especially when it comes to me. That thought suddenly fills me with icy dread, something that selfishly hadn't occurred to me until right now. What will happen to Blake if I run? Will he be punished or sent back to the streets? Or worse? I have no choice but to push the ugly thoughts from my head. I have to go.
"Sure, darlin', I guess a little shore excursion won't hurt. I can even lend you a few dollars. Maybe you can buy yourself a straw hat. Your nose is starting to look a little Rudolph-y."
"Yay. Thank you so much. I'll make it short. I'll go into the bedroom and put on some sun block first." I decide to play the perfectly obedient little captive so as not to let on anything is amiss. I rush into the room and find a tube of sun block in the well stocked bathroom. I smear it on quickly and then mentally slow myself down before walking calmly back up to the deck.
11
Angie
The guards are standing at the railing, lowering the gangplank to the dock. Blake has pulled on his own straw hat. My heart sinks low in my chest as I realize they are all planning to tag along with me, making my escape tougher. In fact, two massive, relentless bodyguards and an equally attentive personal assistant tougher.