This is just a quick message to those of you in the path of Hurricane Ida. Arkansas is missing the bullet entirely, but I hope everyone who isn’t so fortunate has a safe place to weather the storm. Good luck to you!

UPDATE: The winner is…Charlene Whitehouse!
*~*~*

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, tell me where you would like to travel if there was no pandemic and no security threats in the world…

This picture is of a place I would love to go after COVID subsides a bit and after a couple of the kids are old enough to leave them behind to handle the horses, goats, dogs, cats…

Open Contests

1. Genevive Chamblee: The Non-technicality of Sports Romances (Contest) — This ends soon! Win a FREE book!
2. Too pretty to eat? (Contest) — This ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!
3. Toes, really? (Contest) — Win a FREE book!
4. Grace Adams: Nearly-Published Author of FIRE’S RISING! (Contest + Excerpt) — Win a FREE book!
5. Rhonda Lee Carver: $0.99 Sale on BROKEN HALO! Read an Excerpt! Plus, Name that Character Contest! — Win an Amazon gift card!
6. Your weekend book boyfriend… (Contest + Excerpt) — Win an Amazon gift card!

UPDATE: The winner is Beckie!
*~*~*

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, let me know who this weekend’s book boyfriend will be! 

If you’re looking for something to read this weekend, I have a suggestion. Pick up a Montana Bounty Hunters story, either one of the original nine stories, or one from among the four stories in the Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT, series.

Each story is unique. Each hero and heroine is unique. I worked hard to give each character their own story with their own issues and adventures.

If you’d like a taste of one of the stories, here’s Hardman, who more than lives up to his name, as does his partner and, soon, love interest, Martika Mills….

Get your copy today!

Excerpt from the opening of Hardman

“His GPS is pinging just ahead,” Martika Mills said, raising her gaze from her handheld tracking device to point ahead toward the bend in the river.

Pierce Hardman took his attention off scanning the banks and slowed their boat in the center of the shallow river. They’d need to gear up before approaching their target, Matthew Harper, who’d skipped his date with the judge the previous week. The once-convicted felon had been set to appear on charges stemming from a string of home burglaries. Just another dumbass who thought the rules didn’t apply to him and didn’t want to work for his money.

“Finally, it’s cold as shit on this water,” Preacher’s voice came over the comms. He was in the jon boat behind Hardman and Marti’s little two-seater sneak boat and was accompanied by Dagger and Lacey. They hadn’t really needed so many hunters for this takedown, but since healthy bounties had been a bit scarce the last few weeks, and everyone was bored, they’d decided to move on Harper together.

When they’d planned this river grab, they hadn’t taken into account maneuvering on the chilly water. They wore shorts with sweatshirts or hoodies on top. Nothing other than the thin padding atop Hardman’s aluminum seat kept his balls from freezing.

He twisted the handle on the outboard motor to put it into neutral, slowing the boat further. While the boat drifted, he and Marti removed their life vests and donned the gear they’d brought in a duffle—their Kevlar vests, their badges, and lastly, they strapped holstered weapons to their thighs.

“We look ridiculous,” Lacey said with a laugh. “Who wears shorts and boat shoes to a takedown?”

Marti rolled her eyes. Hardman smirked. Lacey could always be counted on for fashion commentary. The curvy blonde was the only hunter sporting pink and grey camouflaged attire.

“Hardman, you got our new toy?” Preacher asked.

Hardman bent to the duffle and removed the new “Spiderman” bolo gun, which he clipped to his vest. “Got it.”

“Has he moved?” Dagger asked.

Again, Marti bent to look at the tracker. “Nope. He’s sitting still.”

Hardman hoped that meant he was busy fishing.

“Hope he didn’t ditch the ankle monitor,” Marti mumbled. “Or we rented these boats for nothing.”

“We ready?” Dagger asked.

“We’re a go,” Hardman said and twisted the outboard motor’s handle again to move slowly toward the bend.

As they rounded the curve, they spotted a small boat beached against a steep bank, a rope tied around a fallen tree to keep it there, but no sign of Harper.

Hardman aimed the boat at the bank, gave the motor a bit of juice then set it into neutral. They drifted into the bank, and he jumped off the side into shallow water. “You stay with the boat,” he said to Marti. “We don’t need it floating away.”

“Why do you get all the fun?” she asked, her eyebrows lowering.

“Because I was in the water first,” he said, grinning.

Dagger slid his boat beside the sneaker boat and tossed his mooring line to Marti. “Make sure it doesn’t go anywhere.”

Marti’s glower darkened.

Hardman chuckled as he climbed the bank, glancing around to look for any signs of where their quarry might have gone.

“He’s pinging from up there,” Marti said in a hushed tone from below. When he glanced back, she was pointing toward the top of the steep bank. “Maybe twenty feet in.” She held up the tracker. “Sure you don’t need me?”

“We’ll manage,” he said. “Just give us a shout if he moves.”

Hardman reached for branches, knotty roots, and grass to pull himself up the bank.

Beside him, Dagger pushed on Lacey’s butt to get her up the side, and Preacher dug his toes into loose dirt to “step” his way up. Once they all stood on the top of the embankment, they spread out to commence their search. As well, they didn’t need to be bunched together since they didn’t know for sure whether Harper was armed. Not that his file indicated he was dangerous, but a cornered dog might bite.

Hardman studied the ground and brush around him, looking for tracks.

“Got him,” Dagger said quietly.

Hardman glanced his way. Dagger pointed to footprints and touched a broken branch. Signaling that he’d take point, he aimed a glare at Lacey, who frowned but let Hardman and Preacher trail behind him before falling in at the end of the line.

They went maybe fifteen feet into the brush when Dagger squatted and held up a closed fist. They all took a knee. Dagger pointed at his eyes then raised two fingers. Harper had company.

Then they heard noise up ahead. Soft groans, a thready moan. The distinctive slap of flesh on flesh. Matthew Harper was getting busy in the grass.

Dagger pointed to Preacher and then to his left.

Keeping low, Preacher moved quietly to the left of the couple.

Following Dagger’s hand signals, Hardman moved to the right. When he reached his position, he low-crawled through tall grass until he saw glimpses of pink flesh between the waving blades. A man’s ass was flexing, driving downward. Pale, plump legs encircled his hips.

By the speed of his movements, he was getting close.

“Ready?” Dagger whispered.

“Ah, let him finish,” Lacey said. “It’ll be a long time before he gets to knock against someone with breasts again.”

Marti snickered in his ear.

“We even sure he’s our guy?” Preacher grumbled.

“Can’t tell. I’ve got the rear view, and his ankles are hidden in the grass,” Hardman whispered, grimacing, because he really didn’t want to take a closer look.

“I’m getting closer,” Lacey said.

“Stay the fuck where you are,” Dagger bit out.

“Oh. He’s got a shaved head,” Lacey said.

Which could be a problem. Harper had had long, frizzy hair in his booking photo.

“Gotta wait until they get up to ID him,” Dagger said.

The couple on the ground rolled until the female sat atop the male. She was a well-rounded woman with large breasts and a generous behind.

“She’s certainly energetic,” Lacey said as the woman bounced over the man’s hips.

At last, the woman’s head fell back, and a series of “Oh-oh-ohs” echoed in the clearing.

The man gripped her hips and rutted upward before letting out a loud shout.

“Satisfied, Lace?” Dagger drawled.

“Nope, but they sure are.”

The hunters stood, drawing their weapons.

“Fugitive Recovery Agents!” Dagger shouted.

The couple froze. Then the man tossed the woman to the side and bolted up from the ground. Nude, he barreled past Lacey, knocking her to the ground, and headed straight toward the river.

“Got a runner,” Hardman said, following close on the man’s heels.

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” Marti said.

As his feet pounded the dirt, Hardman noted the black ankle monitor the naked man wore. “It’s our guy.”

“I’m staying with the woman,” Lacey said. “I’ll help her find her clothes.”

“Hardman, get the lead out,” Dagger bit out. “Don’t let him get to that boat.”

When Harper approached the edge of the bank, Hardman expected the man to slow down, but he didn’t. Hardman reached out, grabbing for his shoulder, but Harper leapt into the air then bumped on his naked ass down the side of the embankment.

“He’s over the edge,” Hardman said, skidding on his own backside over rocks and exposed roots.

“I see him,” Marti shouted.

Hardman heard a splash.

“Marti, don’t let those boats get away,” Dagger said. “It’s my credit card on the deposit!”

At the bottom of the embankment, Hardman pushed off the ground and ran behind Harper, who was nearing his beached skiff. Hardman would never catch the skip before he was inside it, so he unclipped the Spiderman bolo gun and aimed for the man’s thighs.

He struck Harper at the back of his knees just as he entered the water—and just as Marti jumped in front of him to prevent him getting into his boat.

The bolo deployed and wrapped around his knees. Harper fell forward—on top of Marti—and they both sank into the water.

Hardman rushed toward them and pulled on Harper’s shoulders.

Marti sat in the water and gulped in air with Harper still pinning her hips to the bottom of the river. “You did this on purpose!” she said, glaring at Hardman. “Get him off me.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Matthew Harper said, sounding miserable. “But water’s so cold I can’t get it up anyway.”

Marti smacked his chest. “No one better have a camera!”

“Too late,” Dagger quipped.

Hardman glanced over his shoulders at Dagger who held out his iPhone. He was bent at the waist laughing.

Hardman wrapped an arm around Harper’s middle and lifted him off Marti who scooted backward then slowly stood. She looked down at her wet clothing and gear and her lips curled in disgust. When her gaze met Hardman’s, it narrowed. “Not a word. Ever.”

“I did tell you to stay with the boat,” he said, his tone cheerful.

Anyone familiar with my work knows I write a lot of stories exploring the world of BDSM. But I try not to write just about BDSM. I want my stories to be about something more than just the power exchange and how that plays out between any two random people or a couple meeting at a club. Because it’s a somewhat extraordinary and delicate kind of relationship that makes different demands of each of the participants than a normal vanilla sexual encounter.

I like to explore how different characters create and interact within a BDSM relationship, to see how two ordinary people can work out a version that suits them (as in most of the books in the Suburban Dominants series). How do they even come together and recognize each other’s needs? Using the club scene makes a convenient way to get around that problem, but I’d rather tackle it head-on.

In fact, I’ve tried a number of different ways for one person to realize the other’s needs are similar or complementary. My favorite was in Judith’s Challenge, where the heroine works for the hero and is intrigued by the catalogs he gets in the mail. Later he catches her spying on one of the private parties he hosts.

Judith’s Challenge also tackles some fairly sensitive issues and explores how BDSM can be healing in some contexts. I put a trigger warning in the book because the heroine’s history includes a rape (off-screen and not by the hero!) and now she has a problem with being touched by anyone, particularly men. The hero has his own issues. He’s scarred and somewhat maimed as a result of injuries suffered while he was in the military.

I’ve tried to be careful of the problems these people have suffered and respectful of their trauma while showing how their growing trust in each other helps each of them heal.

Judith’s Challenge

Contemporary Romance with BDSM elements
ebook: $3.99

Money can’t buy back the parts of himself Drew Robertson left on a middle-east battlefield, but his new assistant, Judith Delaney, can show him he’s still a whole man without them—if he can help her heal from her own traumatic history.

Wounded Middle East war vet Drew Robertson made some fortunate investments and ended up wealthier than he ever expected to be. It’s some compensation for the injuries, visible and hidden, he believes would repel any woman were it not for his money.

Enter Judith Delaney. Drew’s new assistant brings compassion, intelligence, competence, and her own traumatic past to the job. She also secretly shares his interest in kinky sex.

They might be able to help each other heal, if they can let go the fear and doubts that imprison them. But threats from someone with a grudge against Drew complicate the situation, threats that escalate into something far more dangerous.

Order ebook from: Amazon   B&N   Kobo   Apple Books   Other formats

About Katherine Kingston

Katherine Kingston has written somewhere around two dozen erotic novels, novellas, and short stories.  Most of her novels and novellas are currently published by Ellora’s Cave, but she has one novella with Whispers Publishing and has had stories in a number of print publications. Her stories cover a range of genres from historical to paranormal to science fiction and contemporary. Most of them include hot, kinky sex, particularly BDSM.  Learn more about Katherine and her books at her website: https://www.katherinekingston.com .

Help me name a female character for my next book for a chance to win a $5 Amazon Gift Card.

Hi, y’all. I hope the summer had been to you all. I can’t believe that we’re heading fast for fall and kids will be going back to school. My youngest daughter is turning the BIG 16 this month. She’s getting her license. And my oldest daughter is heading back to college for her last year before graduation, and then it’s off to graduate school. I feel like I’m caught up in a whirlwind and soon I’ll be an empty nester. What will I do with myself? Write more books. Bake all those recipes I’ve wanted to try. Work out more. Have date nights. I’m not excited. My world has evolved around my kids and it’s difficult to imagine jumping out of the fast lane and going solo.

Who could use a $5 GC? Enter the contest by doing this…

1. Follow me on BookBub. Here’s the link: Rhonda Lee Carver Books – BookBub. Already follow me? Awesome.
2. Name the beautiful redhead in the picture below. Put the name in an email subject headline and send it to author@gmail.com. One winner will be chosen on 08/29. Good luck!

Here’s an excerpt to my new book, Broken Halo. It’s sexy, steamy, and full of graphic language and dirty-good sex. What’s not to love?

“How did you get in? The door was locked.” She was aware that her voice fluttered. “Did you do this? Did you lock me in here?”

“You’re blaming me? Didn’t I tell you to stay put? Is it impossible for you to listen?” Lines of fury appeared around his mouth. His hands were fisted at his sides.

“Wait…how did you know I was in this room? You would have had to see me come in.” Tears moistened her eyes.

“Because I was looking through the security monitors and just happened to see you breaking the rules,” he growled. “I didn’t lock you in but that’s about the only way to get you to behave.”

She looked from him to the door then back to him. “If you didn’t do it then who did?”

He rubbed his jaw. “The doors must be powered by automatic locks because no one locked you inside.”

Swallowing, she slumped her shoulders, still reeling from watching the sex scene.

He took the short distance between them, backing her against the cool glass. She was almost grateful for the respite from the heat of her skin. He stared down at her, looking savage and warrior-like, his chest rising and falling.

“Ireland, if you can’t behave then I’m going to have to…”

“What?”

“Turn you over my knee and swat that tight ass. Do you think this is a joke?”

“I don’t care about your threats,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have married you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I feel the same. I should have let King do whatever he wanted.”

She raised her hand with the intention to smack him across the face, but he caught her wrist and held it prisoner between his wide, callused fingers. Their gazes connected in a fiery duel of emotion and something else…something akin to desire. She tried to jerk free, but he held her tight. He then captured her other wrist and lifted both her arms high above her head and pinned them against the window.

“Let me go, you bastard!”

“Or what?” he seethed.

She brought her knee up but he was quick and dodged her strike to his groin. This angered him and his face reddened.

“You brat!” he pushed through thin lips, forcing her against the wall. “You’re pressing all my buttons.”

“Welcome to the club!”

Then something happened.

An invisible chain broke.

Pre-order here: Broken Halo (Undercover Silvers Series MC Book 1) – Kindle edition by Carver, Rhonda Lee. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

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This story has a long history for me. I began publishing through various online and traditional houses in 2003. I wrote Her Sanctuary in 2006. The first publisher disappeared. I re-pubbed it through a second publisher a few years later that disappeared as well. I dragged my feet on again publishing this story on my own because, over all those years, I’ve gotten many requests from readers for sequels. I wasn’t ready to continue the series then. I am now.

So, without further ado, here’s the first story in my Texas Vampires series. It’s FREE in Kindle Unlimited. I hope you’ll read it and want more. Because “more” (specifically Diego’s story) is in the works!

Enjoy the story! If you have time, tell someone about it. And thank you for supporting me over the years. I love my job. 🙂

Her Sanctuary

A woman surviving on the edge of a dark frontier strikes a sensual bargain with a handsome stranger hiding a dangerous secret…

In a post-apocalyptic future, creatures who’ve hidden in the shadows for millennia are freed to roam in a world shrouded in darkness. Rancher Kate McKinnon runs Sanctuary Ranch—a last refuge on the western frontier. While running herd over her cowhands and integrating refugees into their self-sufficient refuge, she escapes her responsibilities the only way she has left—via radio to pockets of other survivors. One man, Ty Bennett, is her confidante, and she thinks she might be falling in love with his deep, rasping voice. Although they’ve never met, he seems to know her heart.

On a patrol to scavenge supplies, Kate and her cowboys are surrounded by a gang of renegades intent on claiming her. Rescue comes unexpectedly by a militaristic band led by the man she’s spent so many hours talking to through the dark nights. She brings him home only to discover she’s brought vampires inside the refuge.

Already half in love with the human woman, Ty offers added muscle to her defenses and promises to move her people to safety. Fighting his own nature and appetites, he seeks redemption for his many sins but can’t control his hunger to possess Kate. Getting past her prejudice and choking responsibilities tests his seductive powers.

Get your copy now!

Enjoy a peek at Diego’s cover!

For Diego, the career his father had insisted was his destiny turned out to be the perfect preparation for the end of times. The Army made him a warrior—and then it turned him into a monster.

Pre-order your copy now!

Oh, boy. This is my first guest blog as a nearly-published romance author, and I’m a little nervous.

Okay. A lot nervous.

I’ve always had stories in my head. There’s always been a kind of narration going in my brain. Sometimes it reads like a script, laying out events that happened the day before. Or a difficult conversation I need to have (or wish I could have) with someone. Other times, it’s a scene from whatever I’m writing, playing out in images and description and dialogue. But that’s all safely in my head, where it always sounds good and no one else can see or hear or judge.

Or experience my stories with me. Yes, my stories are safe in my head. But what good is being a storyteller, if you don’t have the guts to put your stories down on paper and send them out into the world, to share them with others?

It took me a long time to understand this about myself, but that’s my passion: telling stories. I love stories. I love movies and scripted television. As long as we’re talking happy endings and good guys winning, that is. I distinctly recall the cheers that erupted in the theatre when Han and Chewie swooped in to help Luke make his run down that Death Star trench. Xena and Hercules were Must-See Friday-night television for me and my friends. And I’ve been reading since I could hold a book. My first love was science fiction and fantasy. Then I started sneaking peeks at the romances Granny shared with Mom, which Mom tucked away on the shelf in the enclosed back porch that we called our kitchen nook. And then I started reading those romances cover to cover, swept away by the emotional journeys of people as they fell in love. As they chose each other, no matter their faults or fears, and made whatever sacrifices they needed to make to build a life together.

Did you catch that I called them people? Of course, they’re characters, imagined by someone and crafted by someone, their actions and thoughts and emotions carefully chosen word by word, page by page, scene by scene. But man, if the writer has done their job well, those characters can be as real to readers or viewers as living, breathing people.

Especially in romance. Because these characters are fighting for what we all want: love. Families. Healthy relationships. Fulfilling lives. Whether they’re dragon shifters like mine or Wall Street billionaires or Victorian heiresses. We see ourselves in these characters. We connect to them on a deeply personal level.

Some writers will describe their process as listening to their characters as if their characters are telling them what to do. My process is more like a series of discoveries of what someone might be like if this or that happened to them, of choices I consciously make to build them from the inside out. Whatever the process, those characters we love come from the mind and heart of a storyteller. And if they’re in a published book, then that writer had the guts to put their characters and those characters’ journeys into words and send them out to the world. And hopefully into readers’ hearts.

And here I am, finally ready to join the ranks of the published and share my stories. Or nearly ready. I may have made this decision to finally put my work out there, but apparently, I’ve got way more to learn about how to do that than I realized, despite years of working toward this goal.

So yeah, I’m a lot nervous. I wish I at least had the cover ready to share. I’ll be back here next month, a grateful guest blogger of the kind and generous Delilah Devlin, and I’ll have more for you then, including a chance to win a set of dragon magnets. In the meantime, comment for a chance to win a copy of Fire’s Rising as soon as it’s available this fall.

But no more waiting! It’s time. So here, for the first time ever, is an excerpt from my debut paranormal romance Fire’s Rising, when my hero and heroine meet. I hope you’ll like my story. And I especially hope you’ll like my characters and take them into your heart. They’ve certainly spent a lot of time in mine.

Cheers,
Grace Adams
www.bygraceadams.com

Excerpt from Fire’s Rising…

To set the scene: Cole is a fire dragon shifter of Clan Drakon, (the other half of his dual soul is the dragon Aithos), and as Fire’s Rising opens, he’s out searching with water dragon shifter Sonnan for the newborn dragon his clan chief and mentor James has been sensing. Her name is Liliana. She’s alone, stuck in a bad situation, and doesn’t yet understand why a fire has always burned at the heart of her. Or why that fire has finally, suddenly, broken free.

Fire. Cole smelled it on the wind, tasted it on his tongue. And this time, that taste held the tang of a dragon’s magic. He beat his wings and turned into the wind, to the source of the scent, hope and dread both burning hot embers in his chest.

I’ve got her! James’ thought cut, edged razor sharp with triumph.

Cole curled his wings to catch an updraft and soared higher. She’s east and north of me. I can smell the fire. Get me a better location, James, he demanded.

Astoria, not far from the East River. Hurry, Cole, James said. Cole couldn’t miss the tension now coiling in his mentor’s voice. I sense her dragon’s magic–and her fire–but I can barely sense her.

His talons fisted, a roar building in his throat. They were too late. She was burning. Had she hurt anyone? Had she hurt herself?

Understood, James. Sonnan, be quick. And be ready. If she can’t hear me, you’ll need to shock her out of this fire the old-fashioned way.

With water, Sonnan agreed, her mental voice as cool and clear as the water she commanded. On my way.

Fire flared high, still miles distant but unmistakable to his vision. The blaze flashed, bright and powerful. The shock wave throbbed against him in a sharp, hot burst moments later.

But he was fire, too. Aithos snarled in recognition and burning need and surged forward, wings straining in a pounding rhythm.

She was one of them. She was a fire dragon of Clan Drakon. Nothing mattered more than finding her, protecting her, and bringing her home. Nothing. Whatever had happened, whatever she’d done, whatever the consequences of her awakening, they’d get her through it. But he had to actually find her first.

Cole slid deep into Aithos’ strength and power, trusting the dragon half of his being to do what he’d been born to do. Fly. Arms and legs tucked tight, his long tail a counterbalance streaming behind him, his massive wings beat strong and true as he read the air currents on pure instinct. They reached the river in minutes.

Flames reached high into the night, driven by hunger and fury, the fire stretching for at least a mile along what appeared to be a business district on the opposite shore. Cole stared in horror. Their drakaina was in the middle of that?

Where the man in him saw an inferno and felt the horror of what would be lost to it, though, the beast saw the currents and patterns of the magic that lay beneath it. What stood at the center of all that burning power was clear to his dragon. And it was another of their kind.

Aithos folded his wings and dove, neck stretched out and chin tucked as he streaked across the river. He plummeted to the rooftops, spreading his wings again at the last possible moment to dump their speed in a breathtaking jolt, the powerful beats scattering the flames as they hovered in mid air.

But only for a moment. Then the heat rose again to scorch his breath, the flames skipping back across the tarmac of the parking lot below him in a searing rush.

Man and dragon both saw her now, still in human form, standing next to the shell of a burning car. The ragged, smoking remains of her clothes hung off her tall, slim form, her legs spread and back arched, her arms stretched wide. Long, dark red curls twisted wildly about a bruised and battered face. But her eyes blazed with power, her lips stretched in feral joy.

We have found her, Aithos broadcast. He angled his wings and dropped into the fire, landing far enough from her that if she shifted, she’d have enough room.

Call to her, Cole said.

Aithos pushed to his hind legs and rose to his full height and roared. It was the command of a fully grown and mature fire dragon, demanding acknowledgment and obedience from a newborn. The deep, throaty blast pushed the flames back for another moment and made her hair dance. But she didn’t acknowledge the call in any way.

Her dragon cannot hear me over the power of her fire.

Cole answered by pushing close enough to the front of their bond that magic surged and dragon surrendered his form to that of the man. But not all the way. His skin would be no match for the heat she was generating. He approached her cautiously, in human form but protected by the dragon’s scales.

Volume hadn’t worked. Neither had the simple shock of seeing a dragon land in front of her. If she could actually see anything beyond her flames. He pitched his words so soft and low they were nearly sub-vocal.

“Can you hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction. He tried again, murmuring soothing, wordless sounds of comfort. The only response was an explosion a block or so away as something blew.

Cole, James pathed to him. This is all over the news. I’ve lost count of the number of engines responding, and they’ll be there in less than five minutes. If the news helicopters don’t beat them. You’re out of time.

Clouds already roiled as they massed above him. Sonnan was close.

Hear me, he pathed to the young woman. Please. It’s time for you to come home.

The power blazing in her eyes flickered. But only for a heartbeat. The hope in his chest crisped to ashes as the fires raged on around them.

Hit her, Sonnan, he ordered, and braced himself for the deluge. Hard.

The skies opened.

* * *

Water—cold—water? Crashing water. Beating her throbbing face, smothering her and drenching her lovely flames and smashing her down.

Lili screamed and sucked in water, choked and fell moaning, shivering, to her knees. Reaching for heat, needing the heat back. Where was the heat?

“Can you hear me?”

Not Maks, not Maks or that disgusting–

“Drakaina? Can you hear me?”

The voice was calm, soothing, gently compelling. She raised her head, vaguely surprised to find it still attached, blinked rain and the last of the flickering flames from her eyes.

A man, a naked man, with broad shoulders and slender hips, his skin glistening in moonlight and pouring rain.

Naked?

Twisting eddies of color and light danced across him, crimson and gold. Shimmering down each muscle, hugging his shoulders, sparking at his fingertips. Watching made her dizzy, made her wonder why she’d thought he was standing there naked in the middle of a parking lot.

“We’re here to help,” he said in that beautiful voice. “Are you all right?”

Was she all right?

Lili blinked, her gaze drawn to the flecks of warm light in his eyes, in his unwavering stare. He shouldn’t ask things like that. Not about her. Maks wouldn’t like it.

“Drakaina,” he said, urgently now. “This fire stretches for at least a mile, and Sonnan’s rain can’t reach everywhere. We think people are trapped in some of these buildings. Can you put the fire out?”

People? Lili lurched to her feet, spinning, stumbling, peering desperately through the downpour and the darkness, but there were no life-size piles of smoldering ashes. They must have gotten away before–

People. Trapped. Oh, no… No!

Lili closed her eyes and threw her arms wide and reached, reached wide, far, for heat, for flames, for that which burned and scorched and seared.

She called and called. Come back to me, come, COME, until she stretched thin and brittle across the endless cold and silence, until she was nothing but that single, pain-filled word, screamed over and over in blackness.

Nothing. Nothing. She couldn’t do this, she’d never tried to call the heat to her before, it wouldn’t come back. Despair cut like an icy blade. There was nothing, she was nothing, and–

“You’re nothing.”

How many times had Maks told her that? No, no, Maks was gone, he was gone, she must have finally made him afraid of her. She hadn’t meant to, but that wouldn’t matter. Not to him.

“You’re nothing!”

The blow had staggered her, fear rising acrid in her mouth and brittle in her gut that time as it did now. She faltered, shaking, stepping back.

No. He was gone. Maks was gone. Wasn’t he?

He always comes back, the fear whispered. And he’s going to be so mad…

She set her feet, gritted her teeth. Clutching at the burning embers within, she reached.

A whiff of smoke gave her the strength to stretch farther, farther, again, more. An instant of warmth against her wet fingertips, a flicker of heat in the depths of her soul.

More, more, come to me, come TO ME, the call a desperate cry that resonated within her in a low, husky echo.

And the fire roared, snapping back. Scorching her breath. Skittering across her skin and writhing in her belly.

Burning. She was burning.

With lovely, lovely heat…

She staggered, blind and deaf to everything but the conflagration she’d harnessed, that licked and hissed and consumed the last of her strength and slowly, sullenly, flickered lower.

But it didn’t go out. The fire never went out. Not as long as there was breath in her body.

She’d done it. The fire in the buildings and cars, at least, was out, and the one within her was quiet. Lili dropped her aching arms and drew a long, shuddering sigh as some last, tiny, stubborn spark of life still left in her forced her heavy eyes open.

He still stood there in front of her. Had even drawn closer, despite what he’d just seen her do. And this time, he wasn’t alone. A woman now stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder, the light flickering across her skin silver and a blue so dark it was nearly black. They seemed poised, tense. Waiting for her to collapse.

“We’re here to help,” he repeated, slowly. “I’m Cole, and this is Sonnan.”

Naked or not, and she still couldn’t be sure, they were magnificent. Both of them. Shining and sleek and so very strong.

Not like her.

They would have stood up to Maks. They would have found a way to leave him.

She stared at them, frowning, sadness rolling over her in a cold wave. Why couldn’t she be that strong?

“What do you want from me?” she rasped, trying to at least sound strong and fierce and not at all like her vision was darkening or her heartbeat was pounding in her ears or her knees were buckling–

He caught her as she sagged, easing down with her in a tangled heap. “Drakaina?”

She tried to answer, to tell him to stop calling her that strange word and leave her alone. She tried to get up and run somewhere, anywhere, now that Maks finally wasn’t looking. But all she managed was a low, low moan.

She should have been afraid. He had his hands on her. But fear wasn’t enough to push her to her feet. Or even to raise her arm to smack his hands away. She had nothing left.

Warm fingers brushed her snarled, sodden hair back from her face.”It’s all right,” that beautiful voice soothed. “We’ll take you someplace safe, where you can rest. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

Safety didn’t exist. Not for her. Because there was no place in the world that Maks wouldn’t come for her.

For the freak who belonged to him.

More hands, straightening her legs with care and easy strength. “I think she did it. I think the fire’s completely out.” The woman. Her voice held all the sweet rain and cool, gentle breezes that Lili had ever longed for in that stinking hot cell of a studio. “Is she all right?”

“We need to get her back to Nina. Now.”

His words came from far away, clipped and angry, but she couldn’t make herself care. What they did with her, they did with her. What could it possibly matter?

Maks would find her. He would never let her go. It was only a matter of time.

He was going to be so mad.

“You’re nothing!”

Nothing.

She knew that. Nothing.

… except the fire that meant everything, that had taken everything from her. The embers lay quietly, banked and glowering in her belly.

Author Bio

Grace Adams is a 2017 Golden Heart® finalist and award-winning author of paranormal romance who loves nothing more than a happy ending. Whatever the genre, regardless of the medium, as long as justice prevails, the good guys win, and people are falling in love, she’s in.

A lifelong reader of science fiction, fantasy, and of course romance, Grace also enjoys painting and drawing and is an avid skier. One of those rare Geeks who loves both Star Wars AND Star Trek, she’s got a closet full of costumes she created and firmly believes that she who dies with the most fabric (and books) (and shoes) wins.

Grace has a B.S. in Mathematics from Ursinus College and an M.A. in English from Wright State University.  She is a veteran of the USAF as a communications officer and currently works as an IT Controls Analyst. She shares her home with the best super cats ever, Thor and Loki.