“Where are you taking me?” she asks, a nervous lilt in her voice.
I stifle a smile.
She’s with me. I’m not sure she truly comprehends how much danger that puts her in.
“We’re looking for food and water sources,” I explain. “The shit from the plane won’t last long, so we need to see what our options are.”
“They’ll find us,” she says, staring at me defiantly, as if daring me to contradict her.
“If they do, l’ll bind you and gag you, hiding both of us and any evidence of our life here, until they leave here convinced there were no survivors,” I say. She winces. I mean what I say, though. I’m not fucking leaving, and neither is she.
She’s either right or wrong about rescuers, and what I think about that won’t impact what will actually happen.
For a moment, I wonder if I didn’t punish her well enough. But as a dominant I know better. Control isn’t about brute force. She needs to know I’m someone who can be trusted. Will she be more compliant if she feels more than pain from my hand?
I stand and cross my arms on my chest, looking at her thoughtfully so long that finally, her gaze comes back to me. Her eyes are pained, shielded from me.
I will not soften. I’m not going to be anything but her tormentor. She’s nothing to me but my captive. But she captured me because of what she believes me to be. Who she believes me to be…
No. She can’t be trusted, so she remains my captive.
I shove the weak thoughts from my mind.
I’m not really going to comfort her. I am curious, however, if she’s more compliant when she’s given both the carrot and the stick.
“Nadine,” I say, warningly. “I gave you an instruction. Come here.”
She clenches her jaw defiantly, but her gaze wanders quickly away.
She doesn’t want to be punished again.
When she nears me, I put my arm around her shoulders and hold her close, then place a finger under her chin tipping her head back so I can look her in the eye. “Are you in pain?”
She blinks in confusion. “Of course, I am,” she says. “You whipped me.”
“And you deserved it. And honestly, sweetheart, that wasn’t a whipping. I spanked you with my belt. You’re lucky I don’t have a real whip with me.” I’m so fucked up, the idea of curling my hand around the handle of a bullwhip and wielding it on her gorgeous ass makes my dick hard.
She turns away with a grimace, but I bring her gaze back to me with my finger on her chin.
“Is there anything else that hurts?” I ask. “How’s your leg?”
“Of course, it hurts,” she says, her body wavering. Back in the shelter, in our supplies, I have some pain relievers I could give her.
No. I push the thought from my mind.
Those will be for a real need, not for a cut on the leg and a spanking. Hell, I’ve spanked submissives at the club harder than I punished her.
I reach my hand to her ass, feeling the heat straight through her panties, throbbing against my palm. I knead, and she hisses, her fingers clinging onto me, but when she realizes what she’s doing she releases me, trying to take a step back. She moves so quickly, and is likely distracted by her injuries, that she loses her footing and stumbles. I grab her as she falls, holding her so close it’s almost intimate.
We’re panting from the near fall. “You alright?” I ask her, looking at her eyes, and fuck me if I don’t really want to know.
It’s part of how I’m conditioned, I tell myself.
I’m a dominant. When I administer punishment, it’s in my blood to see to the aftercare of my submissive, to check on their emotional and physical wellbeing. I spent the last year of my life in various clubs. I was never satisfied in any relationship unless I had a full-time sub.
But she isn’t your submissive.
It’s a constant fucking refrain in my head.
Who we are is a goddamn synthesis of our pasts and experiences, what we’ve done and what we hope to do. I can no more ignore the dominant training in my blood than I can ignore the fact that I’m a white male. That my father was a ringleader in organized crime. That the blood of an innocent woman will stain my hands until the day I die.
So when I hold her to me, it isn’t a conscious thought.
Her eyes look at me, wide and frightened, and I don’t know if the fear I see is because of what I’ve done to her, what I plan on doing, or that she knows where this can take us if we aren’t careful.
I release her, holding onto her arm to make sure she doesn’t stumble again.
“Be careful,” I say, rougher than I intended. I don’t want her to see weakness. She needs to fear me.
She needs to fucking fear me.
I devoured “Island Captive” in like one sitting it was that good.
And no this was not no insipid flowery fairy-tale but it was definitely my kind of bed-time story
one where my evening is most certainly going to feature sweet dreams of the more carnal variety; if I’m very lucky that is.
The premise behind this storyline is simple Nadine works for a government agency that apprehends hardened criminals that have gone AWOL.
Along with her partner, she is hot on the trail of convicted killer Adrian who has been convicted of brutally murdering his submissive.
Nadine feels this one personally; despite her trying to stay detached and manages while recapturing Adrian to earn his own brand of personal hatred.
When their charter plane encounters difficulties mid-flight and crashes Adrian and Nadine are the sole survivors.
The roles these two started out with are dramatically reversed; Jailor becomes prisoner and the prisoner holds all the cards and is damn sure ready to use them all to his advantage.
I think someones definitely got a case of bruised feelings here.
So this is where our story really takes off and it’s fabulous.
Adrian in control making Nadine pay for every little slight while he in a way punishes here for her past treatment of him.
I have to be honest here I was struggling initially with whether I could grow to like Adrian as he just seemed so cold and single-minded in his interactions and overall mindset.
no matter as the story unfolded, I began to warm to him as he gradually started to redeem himself.
The slow gradual burn between Nadine and Adrian really appealed to me.
I would have liked him maybe to show a bit more in terms of feelings as the book progressed.
But that was just more of a personal preference; I do like my dramatic declarations of loves and devotion and sadly that for me was missing here.
We do get the eventual HEA here, but it was just a little anti-climatic for my liking.
This had plenty of action and was super enjoyable, do be aware it is slightly dub-con in nature but that was half the draw here for me.
The eventual connection between Adrian and Nadine here was completely consensual just initially this does skate the boundaries please avoid if that is at all an issue for you.
So yeh my removing half a star was mainly due to the lack of emotional declarations something about seeing a tough grown man brought to his knees by the fairer sex just gets me all a quiver.
despite my above gripe, this was still a fantastic read that I really did enjoy.
So Imagine a naughtier version of the Blue Lagoon (Love that film) one with lots of spankings and you’re halfway there with picturing this.
This may be my first Jane Henry book but It definitely is not going to be my last.
Thank you to the author for providing me with an ARC of “Island Captive” of which I have reviewed voluntary.
All opinions are entirely my own.
USA Today Bestselling author Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.