Survival Games: The Games Thriller Series, #1

By J.E. Taylor

Until he snatches Jessica Connor, Ty Aris happily followed his stepbrother's orders, producing some of the most coveted black-market films on the street. But the day he grabs her in the parking lot, his life becomes a living nightmare.

Jessica foils his plans, fires his passion, and frustrates the hell out of him. She never gives in to his demands, his pleas, or his desires, and yet a psychic bond claims his soul and melts the iron walls around his heart.

His obsession sparks a fierce rift when his stepbrother wants to start filming Jessica. Ty stalls with any and every excuse in the book, fueling his stepbrother's fury, but he knows it's only a matter of time before he loses this game.

With the clock ticking, he scrambles for escape options.

Options that won't land him in jail…or worse…a captive in his stepbrother's sadistic prison.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JET-Fueled Fiction
• Release date: Apr 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781386278481

J.E. Taylor

J.E. Taylor is a USA Today bestselling author, a publisher, an editor, a manuscript formatter, a mother, a wife, a business analyst, and a Supernatural fangirl, not necessarily in that order. She first sat down to seriously write in February of 2007 after her daughter asked: “Mom, if you could do anything, what would you do?” From that moment on, she hasn’t looked back. In addition to being co-owner of Novel Concept Publishing, Ms. Taylor also moonlights as a Senior Editor of Allegory E-zine, an online venue for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror, and co-host of the popular YouTube talk show Spilling Ink. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and during the summer months enjoys her weekends on the shore in southern Maine. Visit her at www.jetaylor75.com to check out her other titles. Sign up for her newsletter at https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/y2z2x6 for early previews of her upcoming books, release announcements, and special opportunities for free swag!

Book preview

Survival Games Chapter 1

A picture containing company name Description automatically generated

JESSICA CONNOR WOKE CHAINED to a chair in a dark room. Her heart thundered in her chest. She strained to look around, but her head refused to move. The lights slowly brightened, revealing a video screen.

Hands descended onto her shoulders, and a low voice whispered, Relax and enjoy. I think this is my finest work yet.

A video remote appeared, and with a click of a button, the screen filled with a highway scene.

Her little Scion XA rolled into the camera view and then zoomed by and cut in front of an eighteen-wheeler. The front tire burst, and the little car swerved out of control. The truck driver had no time to react before he barreled into the little car, sending it rolling down the highway where it skidded to a stop on its roof.

Jessica glimpsed brown hair covered with blood against the driver’s side window. The scream of brakes filled the room, and the truck hit the demolished car again. The little vehicle exploded, and the truck pushed the flaming car another hundred yards before both came to a halt.

People swerved to the side to view the wreckage. Sirens wailed in the distance. The car taping the accident passed by the excited crowd gathering on the highway, and Jessica caught a glimpse of charcoaled remains of the driver in the wreckage before the video faded to black.

Oh God. She glanced down at her legs, fully expecting to see burned skin. Her legs were bare and unmarked, with no sign of harm from the fire or from the accident she had no recollection of. I-I-I don’t understand.

She twisted her wrists in the iron bands holding her to the hard chair. Straps held her head in place, and when she tried to move her legs, hard cold metal around her ankles stopped them.

She stared at the screen in confusion. I... I... The memory of being attacked at her car came flooding back. Jessica’s heart rate tripled, and uncontrollable tremors gripped her bound frame.

Mmm, the death of Jessica Connor. The smooth edge of his fingernails trailed down her bare arm. They all believe you died in that crash. It was all over the news this evening. The husky voice laughed, and he came around the chair to stand in front of her.

The man frightened her more than the video had. He squatted down from a height of a little over six feet to her level and rested his arms on his knees. He was fit, like a quarterback, lean and powerful, with light chestnut hair slicked away from his face. When he smiled, his perfectly straight teeth seemed unnaturally white in contrast with his eyes, which looked black in the dark room—black and devoid of any hint of humanity as they breezed over her. A hideous scar ran from just below his eye to under the jawbone, breaking the left side of his face. Under normal circumstances, she would have described him as handsome, even with the scar on his face, but the lack of emotion in his eyes made Jessica recoil farther into the chair.

Unfortunately, that’s not how your life will end, he said. But until that time comes, we are going to have a world of fun! He sat back on his haunches and smiled. Their gazes finally met.

His eyes flashed, revealing striking blue irises, becoming almost iridescent in the dark room. Something clicked deep inside her, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her skin screamed as if doused in flames, and terror gripped her, along with something else much more frightening.

She yanked her mesmerized gaze away from his, bringing it back to the blank screen. Understanding slowly seeped in and her fear turned to rage.

You bastard! She struggled to free herself.

He put his hand on her bare leg and slid it up her thigh. You will beg me to fuck you before this is all over, he said, his breath hot and foul.

Never! She squeezed her eyes shut.

The man laughed and pulled his hand away. He stood. That’s what everyone says at first, but I always win.

Her eyes snapped open, and she clenched her jaw in defiance. Not in a million years.

He stepped back and pressed a button on the remote.

Burning pain filled every cell. She screamed through a clenched jaw, her body rigid from the electricity passing through her. Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling and her body convulsed in the restraints.

I always win. He released the button. Always.

His declaration followed her into the darkness.

Survival Games Chapter 2

A picture containing company name Description automatically generated

AN URN, A PICTURE, and dozens of yellow roses graced the altar. The organ played solemnly as people shuffled into the church.

Daniel Connor sat in the front pew, staring into space with his arms around each of his children. His daughter, Emily, cried softly while his son, Eric, played with little Star Wars figures. But he sat stoic, his emotions locked inside since that first phone call, the words yanking the air out of his lungs and turning his bones to gelatin. The wall supported his slow descent to the floor, the explanation of the officer jumbled, warbled in his ears like he was submerged in water. When he regained the ability to breathe, he realized his heart had been torn from his chest, and what remained was an endless cavern.

Shhh, Daniel cooed into his daughter’s hair.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up to find his in-laws entering the row. They shared the same shell-shocked look. Daniel could relate. His world had plummeted into turmoil with that phone call, and the hole in the center of his chest blasted a hundred times wider when he had to identify his wife’s burned remains.

They sat in silence, and the memorial service began. The priest shared inspirational words for the family about their loved one being at peace with God, but it did nothing to fill the hollowness in his soul. He didn’t want to know Jessica was in heaven—he wanted her here to help raise their family, to watch them grow, to rejoice and celebrate year after year together. He wanted his wife. As family and friends shared stories, Daniel listened with a bitter and empty heart.

Twenty years together.

Twenty years gone in the squeal of tires and exploding gas.

Twenty years, and now, he was alone.

A tug on his sleeve caught his attention as they were walking out of the church. He looked down at his son.

Daddy, don’t be sad. Mommy’s just sleeping. The bad man isn’t hurting her, he said and then resumed playing with his Luke Skywalker figure.

His son’s innocent words struck hard, slicing through the bitterness. The empty cavern in his chest flooded. Hot burning tears choked him, and for the first time since getting the call, Daniel cried, a harsh rasping sound like sandpaper on steel.

Eric, your mom isn’t coming home. The words croaked from his throat.

Yes, she is. Eric smiled and went back to playing with his toy.

Daniel stared at his son, catching his breath and wiping the tears from his face, aware of the people filtering around to pay their respects. He wished he shared the same delirious oblivion. He swallowed the bitter taste that filled his mouth and burned his throat, blinking the last of the stinging tears away and focused on the people in front of him, extending their hands and condolences.

Survival Games Chapter 3

A picture containing company name Description automatically generated

TY ARIS PACED BACK and forth, watching his stepsister work on his latest acquisition. His bright blue eyes swept over his prisoner’s body. Anticipation thrummed through his veins. He licked his lips and checked the IV in her arm before resuming his hunter’s pace.

When can we have her?

Be patient, Marian snapped and continued the tedious task of administering electrolysis to Jessica’s legs. You want her to be perfect. That takes time. Besides, you don’t want to give someone else a razor, now do you? She diverted her eyes from the magnifying glass to meet his gaze.

Ty shook his head. The last time they gave someone a razor to shave, they found her dead in the bathroom.

Marian let out a huff. I probably would’ve done the same, considering the alternatives.

Jessica stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and she struggled against the bonds.

Shit! Marion dropped her tools and seized a needle.

Ty grabbed Jessica’s shoulders and held her still on the table. Just touching her skin sent a shockwave through him. Need like nothing he’d ever felt filled every pore, creating an inferno inside him he didn’t understand.

Marion fit the syringe in the IV line and slowly released more sedative into Jessica’s system.

Jessica’s eyes closed, and the taut muscles relaxed once again.

You’re going to have your hands full with this one. She’s a spitfire, Marian said. Any time she is remotely conscious, she fights. Marian went back to permanently removing the hair from Jessica’s legs.

He studied the slight form, inhaling. Her last defiant words echoed in his ears. Not in a million years. We’ll just see about that, he muttered under his breath.

The first time their eyes had met, it jolted him, like the surge from a bolt of lightning. Every sense heightened, tingling, overwhelming him like nothing he had ever felt before. His heart stopped beating, his lungs closed for the fraction of a second their eyes had locked, and then a rush of pure liquid fire engulfed him. He wanted that instant high again and couldn’t wait until she was conscious.

This one, this little wildcat, was his and his alone.

When will you be done? Ty asked again.

Another month or so.

He reached for the soft mound of her bare breast, drawn to her like the opposing sides of two magnets.

Go play with your other toys, Marian barked and slapped his hand away. I’ll let you know when she’s ready.

Ty nodded and gave their latest acquisition a last glance as he slipped out of the procedure room. Locked steel doors periodically broke the gray concrete halls. Strolling past the doors and into the control room of the complex he had built from a large underground bomb shelter, he glanced up at the monitors and grinned.

Who am I going to play with today?

Survival Games Chapter 4

A picture containing company name Description automatically generated

JESSICA VAULTED OUT OF a nightmare, sitting up with her hands covering a scream that never quite made it out. Her entire body ached, but she thankfully had clothes on, unlike the last time.

Random images flashed through her mind. Walking through the shadowy parking lot at work and shivering from the cold with the feeling of being watched. A cloth covering her face, then darkness. The terrifying encounter in the electric chair. An IV bag. Being strapped to what looked like a hospital bed and feeling pain in her face, arms, and legs. She shook her head, erasing the images, and glanced around.

The room was a perfect rectangle made of gray concrete except for a single mirrored wall. Cold. She shivered, catching her reflection before studying the lumpy mattress she sat on. It certainly had seen better days, but at least there was a sheet on it. A treadmill sat in the far corner, facing a screen attached to a swivel platform, allowing a view from any angle in the room. And right smack in the middle of the room was the electric chair.

A short wall beyond the monstrosity caught her attention, and she stood, crossing and entering a small private bathroom that included a separate tub and shower, along with the standard toilet and sink. A closet adorned the corner, and she opened it, finding towels, shampoo, soap and feminine products, but no razors or anything that could be used as a weapon and no medications of any kind.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she inspected the ceiling, noting three cameras and wondering if there were any more she couldn’t see. Slow, icy fingers tapped their way up her spine, and she shuddered.

He was watching.

Panic threatened, so she took a seat on the mattress with her back to the mirror, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on her folded arms. Her long brown hair cascaded around her, shutting off any view of her face. She didn’t want him to see. She didn’t want him to know how unnerved she was. She closed her eyes, willing the terror away, willing herself to relax.

She inhaled and exhaled, continuing to take deep cleansing breaths, concentrating on counting each one, taking herself into a state of meditation.

The room slowly evaporated around her, and she went deeper into herself. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on her son’s bed in her house.

Hi, Mommy. Eric’s voice filled her mind even though his lips remained in the closed smile she adored.

Hi, baby. She reached out to touch his face.

The physical sensation of touching his skin startled her, and her eyes flew open to the barren jail.

She stared at her fingertips in awe. Her heart raced, throbbing in her ears. Her fingers still carried the sensation of his soft skin. Uttering a startled laugh, she glanced around the room and back at her hand. If she could reach her son with her mind, she would eventually reach him with the rest of her being.

Get up! a voiced boomed through the room.

Jessica jumped. She hopped to her feet and turned toward the mirrored wall, unwilling to show a hint of the fear tainting her veins. She flipped her hair, squaring her shoulders, and glared at the mirror. She stared at her reflection: deep brown eyes, high, graceful cheekbones, full, soft lips, and the shocker that made her blink a couple of times—a perfect hourglass figure accented by the faded remnants of a deep summer tan.

She hadn’t looked this good in years. The small bulge at her belly that she’d carried since her son was born was gone, along with any hint of extra weight she carried on her hips and thighs. When her eyes locked with her reflection, she shook the shock off her face.

What? she barked at the mirror.

It’s time for your workout, the voice thundered in the room.

Yeah, right. And if I refuse?

We will have another turn in the chair, the voice said.

Jessica turned her head toward the chair and then at the treadmill, trying to keep the fear at bay. Fuck you. She returned her gaze to the mirror.

That can be arranged.

The low purr of his voice terrified her. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she glanced back at the treadmill, rubbing her arms against the chill in the air. She cast a wary glance at the mirror before heading toward the exercise machine.

Sitting on the floor next to the treadmill were a pair of running shoes in her size. She slipped them on her feet and inspected the machine. There were metal wrist shackles on the handgrips. Her heart jumped into her throat and her gaze shot back to the mirror.

You’re out of your fucking mind.

The cackling came over the speakers. Perhaps. Now I’m going to give you to the count of ten to get on the machine, or we’ll be having another unpleasant session in the chair.

Jessica’s gaze alternated between the chair in the middle of the room and the treadmill as she debated. She made her choice and stepped onto the machine.

Now, put your right wrist in the restraint.

I don’t think so. Jessica shook her head.

There was silence for a moment. Then I guess it’s the chair.

Goose bumps glided over her skin, and she shivered. Shit, Jessica said under her breath and begrudgingly put her right arm in the restraint. The shackle closed painfully around her wrist.

That a girl, the voice said. Now the other one.

Jessica glared at the mirror, muttering a ream of curses, and put her left arm in the restraint. The shackle closed around her wrist with the same painful grip. The treadmill moved slowly at first and then increased, pulling on her wrists painfully as she tried to keep up the pace.

Not so fast. She gasped. I can’t...keep up...this pace.

You will keep up the pace, he commanded through the loudspeakers. Here are some motivational tapes to help.

The screen lit up, and she watched in horror.

An array of videos assaulted her senses, alternating between scenes of such sexual heat that she could feel the burn radiating from the screen, to those of people being tortured, maimed, and murdered. This wasn’t Hollywood. These were real, and the blood that spurted from the victims wasn’t some red syrup. It was someone’s life bleeding out. The blue-eyed man with the scar was never in the violent videos. That was reserved for someone with the most gleefully evil dark eyes. Eyes that made her skin crawl.

Jessica struggled not to vomit at the glimpse of what her future held.

Her heart slammed in her chest with the frantic beat of her feet on the tread. Her thighs burned like red-hot irons stabbing her with each step. Buckets of sweat rolled off her, making the treadmill slick in the spots where it stained the belt. The metal shackles cut into her wrist, and she fought to catch her breath, to keep pace. Her eyes filled with tears, tears of frustration, tears of pain, tears of fear and she caught herself, violently shaking her head, blinking them away.

I will not cry!

She clenched her teeth, determined not to let her captor see her falter, focusing instead on the videos, studying her captor’s habits. His repeated signature was requiring the females in the videos to beg. And they did, eagerly. It was as if he had the same effect on them as he had on her. They nearly fell over to comply with his wishes, and when they did, he complied with all their pleas, taking them to heights that produced the burn of jealousy under her skin.

His power play was for the gratification of hearing them beg.

That was the thing she would never give him.

After the last horrifying image scrolled off the screen, the treadmill slowed enough for her to keep pace without the frenzied pounding in her chest leaving her breathless and terrified her heart was going to explode.

She closed her eyes and ran, thankful for the silence.

The door opened, and he walked in. His steel-blue eyes studied her, and he approached the front of the treadmill and leaned his crossed arms against the monitor displaying her speed. His gaze dropped to her bloody wrists and back up to her face, then his lips twitched into a boyish grin.

Bastard, she said breathlessly. The son of a bitch was enjoying her pain.

He laughed and straightened. Beg for me. Beg me to stop the treadmill.

His reasonable smooth tone struck a match inside Jessica, and she jutted her chin out in defiance. No.

Do you know how long you’ve been running?

She had no idea. It seemed like forever, and every muscle in her body screamed for her to give in, for her to beg him to turn off the treadmill. She shook her head.

Over an hour, he said. You haven’t exercised in months. How much longer do you think you can last?

Jessica shrugged, not daring to speak for fear of giving him what he wanted.

When you fall, and you will, those shackles will tear the skin off those pretty hands and your lovely knees will be ripped to the bone by the treadmill. His blue eyes sparkled, and he tilted his head a little to the side. I would really hate to see that. He shook his head slowly, feigning pity, and then his expression changed. Now, let’s hear you beg.

No, Jessica whispered, willing herself not to cry. She turned away from him and ran on.

He grabbed her face and yanked it toward him, almost knocking her off balance on the treadmill. You will, he said through clenched teeth.

Not in a million years! Jessica thundered and yanked her face out of his grip.

Frustration turned his blue eyes dark, and he stormed out of the room, leaving her running.

She stared at the treadmill, shaking with rage, not daring to sound the sob building in her chest. Locking it down, she blinked, and her tears splattered on the machine.

Her heart skipped a beat. Metal lined either side of the continuously moving strip. If she could jump and catch the edges, she could stop running. That would give her the break she desperately needed. It was a risk, but at the pace she was going, her legs would give out any minute.

She had nothing to lose, so without hesitation, she took a deep breath, jumped up, and spread her legs the distance that she thought was correct. When she came down with both feet on the edges, she let out a yell of triumph and shuffled until she could lean over on the front of the treadmill. She hit the off button with her chin. Her legs were wobbly but able to sustain balance on the small area while the treadmill slowed to a stop. She closed her eyes in relief.

A black swirly design Description automatically generated

TY, ALREADY INFURIATED WITH her defiance, went over the edge when she let out a yelp of triumph and clicked the treadmill off. He stormed back into the room.

His fury made her recoil, and the part of him used to being in this prison rejoiced at her flinch. But the other side, the one that wanted her, cringed. He slammed a button with his palm, and the wrist shackles opened, freeing her. She took another wobbly step back, but he grabbed her arm, tossing her onto the ground, towering over her while his chest rose and fell, the air audibly filtering through his flaring nostrils.

A burst of laughter escaped her lips.

This would not do. None of the women treated him like this. She needed to learn she was not in control. He climbed on top of her, sitting on her chest, pinning her to the floor. He fumbled with his belt buckle and unzipped his pants, intending to make her choke on her laughter.

You put that in my mouth, and I will bite it off, Jessica said. Her jaw clenched, and her glare conveyed she was dead serious.

His eyebrows rose, and his lips parted in disbelief at her audacity. He blinked, weighing his options. He was partial to his member, and the thought of her teeth severing his skin sent a chill through him, cooling whatever thoughts he had of teaching her a lesson.

He slowly zipped his pants and stood. Without a word, he stomped out of the room.

Survival Games Chapter 5

A picture containing company name Description automatically generated

TY STORMED INTO THE control room and paced back and forth like a caged animal, watching Jessica lying motionless on the floor.

I will get what I want! he snarled at her image.

Wildcat. He ran his shaking hands through his hair, wondering what the hell had possessed him. He never got this agitated.

Not only was Jessica a fighter, but she proved to be resourceful as well, and she had the balls to laugh at him.

No one had ever done that before, and maybe that was the reason his heart was knocking around in his chest like a fucking loose cannon.

The others took an interest in him after their initial scare. It was like he was an aphrodisiac compared to Frank, whom they all recoiled from, as if they could sense the twisted evil of his mind.

But not Jessica Connor, not the one woman who set his skin on fire and made his entire frame tingle with desire. Not the one woman he would give his left arm to hear whisper his name. The one woman who drove him absolutely mad, and he hadn’t even been with her yet.

He needed to tame her, and the sooner the better, because he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to resist the storm brewing below the surface.

He slumped in the seat and scanned the monitors. Four of the fifteen monitors had occupants—a man and three women, including Jessica. The rest of the monitors displayed empty holding cells, hallways, and the filming rooms for the movies they made.

A master at editing, Ty crafted some of the finest underground movies from the footage captured in the complex, and with the public’s appetite for black market videos, they consistently sold out as fast as he could produce the twisted motion pictures under the Dark Dreams label.

The only camera free area besides the control room was the prisoners’ bathrooms. Ty fought long and hard for that right, finally winning out over his stepbrother’s will based on money. That crusade