Main Site:

Home/About Kate/Behind the Scenes/Blog (New Window)/Books in a Blink/ Complete Book List/Contest/
Email/Erotic Romance/Free Short Fiction/GLBT Romance/Horror and Erotica/Links/News/
Newsletter/Out of Print Titles/Random Excerpt/Reviews/Romance/
Videos/Which Characters Share Your Sign?

Series Sites:
Alien Affairs/Ancient Blood/Carnal/Carnal 2/Double Time/ Heart's Blood/Horsemen/Hot River/
Knights of the Ruby Order/The Masters/Mate Marks/Mate Marks Cursed/
Naughty Nights/Prowleryns/Python Place/Silver Iris/Yummy Love

Collections:
Blood and Soul/Dangerous Cravings/The Elixir Maidens

The following excerpt from LICKING FIRE is for readers 18 and over. Excerpt Licking Fire by Kate Hill (Erotic Paranormal) From Ellora's Cave. Blurb: Trapped in a nightmare world where only powerful emotions can set victims free, Ethan and Latara use lust to liberate themselves. During their heated encounters, they uncover each other's darkest secrets, including the root of Latara's supernatural powers and the true identity of Ethan's untamable twin, Sorrel Baines. Sex for the hotter-than-hell fire spirit and the ass-kicking pyrokinetic grows in intensity until a final blazing climax literally blows them back to reality. Will it be in time to save their lives? Excerpt: Nothing tastes better than a cool drink after a long, hard night of kicking evil ass. Latara Fortino swallowed a mouthful of her favorite beer. Not the light stuff, but the real thing. After the night she had, she deserved something special. With a contented sigh, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass door leading to her balcony and closed her eyes, enjoying the almost absolute silence. She loved these moments just before dawn on a winter day in Boston. Only the sound of snow crunching beneath the tires of an occasional early morning plow or the cry of a cat begging to be let in out of the chill broke the stillness. Last night she'd been on the trail of a werewolf and that was always hell on a woman's nerves. As a member of the Sun to Moon Society, a group dedicated to protecting unsuspecting mortals from paranormal criminals, she'd spent most of her life chasing creatures average people didn't believe existed. She opened her eyes and turned her gaze to the photo hanging on the wall beside the grandfather clock. A slight, sad smile touched her lips and she took another sip of beer, letting the bitter taste tease her tongue before she swallowed. The photo was of a proud, handsome man in his early forties. The gleam in his brown eyes belied the sullen expression on his face. So many times in her childhood he'd given her that very look. She'd also seen it often when she'd undergone training for the Society. He'd been her toughest instructor, but she'd learned more from him than from anyone else. Her Daddy had been one of the Society's star members and had brought down more paranormal beasts in his day than most of the current members strung together. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that he'd died on duty, yet Latara had been completely stunned. Even now the loss still seemed fresh, maybe because instead of taking enough time to grieve she'd thrust herself into her work. Her first goal had been to destroy the bastard who had killed her father. That fucker had begged for mercy by the time she'd finished with him, but even that hadn't been enough to close the raw wound on her heart. Daddy would have been proud of the way she tried to fill his shoes within the Society, but she'd never get to hear him say so. Praise from him had been few and far between, but always well deserved. That's why it had meant so much to her. He'd been strict, but had taught her self-reliance and self-respect. That kind of guidance was important for a kid like Latara who had a wild streak. She recalled a particular night when she, a horny sixteen-year-old, had been satisfying her sexual curiosity with the son of another Society member. The young man, Nester, had also been in training. They'd been sparring together in the basement of her house and when they hit the floor grappling, a practice fight had turned into something else entirely. She still felt the sting of Daddy's hand on her hair when he'd pulled her from between Nester's legs. That was nothing compared to what he'd done to Nester. That boy's ass had been busted in six different places and after that he hadn't so much as glanced in Latara's direction. As for Latara, she'd been grounded for a month and given a lecture she never forgot. No one can respect you, Latara, unless you respect yourself. Sex is for responsible men and women, not a couple of kids still living at home. Do you want to be a slut or a Society warrior? The choice had been simple. Latara had no intention of being labeled as easy or getting pregnant before she could handle it. Even then she realized her life had a purpose. Hard as it might be, she'd decided then and there to keep her legs shut and her mind open until she was ready to make responsible decisions. Yes, Daddy had guided her toward a difficult path, but it had been worth it. In her heart she felt he still watched over her, maybe in the spirit world she knew existed. She'd met enough ghosts in her time, good and bad, to know that even in the afterlife her father was probably still fighting the good fight. She finished the drink, walked to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the trash. Then she headed toward the bathroom. After a hot soak and a good day's sleep, she'd be ready to once again face whatever the night might bring. In the bathroom, Latara drew the heavy black shades then pointed her finger at the candles rimming the blue and gray marble tub. The wicks ignited and the shadow of flames danced against the walls. She'd inherited the gift of pyrokinesis from her mother. From Daddy she'd received other gifts, including an unshakable sense of justice. While she had nothing against psychics or even supernatural creatures who minded their own business, nobody was going to use their power for crime on her watch. People blessed with abilities beyond the norm should be grateful and not use their gifts to inflict pain. There was already too much pain in the world. Things that couldn't be fixed. Most people with such gifts didn't abuse them. She'd even known a few demons in her time who walked the straight and narrow, and contrary to popular belief, vamps and weres usually left people alone. After pouring some of her favorite strawberry-scented bubbles into the tub, she turned on the water. She pulled off her boots and socks, then peeled off her snug, long-sleeved T-shirt, still damp with sweat from her run-in with the wolf. Sighing, she unhooked her bra, removed the wet red satin and tossed it into the hamper. She quickly shed her jeans and panties, then unwound her hair from its braid. A few minutes later, she sank into the tub, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Smiling, she released a long, slow breath. It felt so relaxing to rest neck-deep in hot, sudsy water. The only thing missing from this picture is a man. Latara smiled sadly and shook her head. She could hardly recall the last time she'd had a chance to be with a man. Things were so busy with the Society that her social life had taken a back seat. The bathroom door opened and Latara jumped. Her heart slammed against her ribs and she stared wide-eyed at her live-in maid who had stepped into the room. Kiki had been selling her body on the streets when Latara found her, near death from a vampire attack. She'd helped Kiki clean up her act and offered her a job until she got her life together. The two had become good friends over the past several months and Latara liked the idea of someone staying at her place, since she often left for weeks at a time on assignments for the Society. "Girl, what the hell are you doing?" Latara wrinkled her nose. "You nearly scared me to death. And don't you believe in knocking?" "Sorry," Kiki whispered, a strange expression in her blue eyes. "I really am sorry, Latara." Before Latara had a chance to react, Kiki aimed a dart gun at her and fired. "What the hell?" Latara sprang out of the tub, but she already felt woozy and grasped the sink to steady herself. Glaring at Kiki, she sank to her knees and crawled toward her. "I don't believe this! Bitch, what did you—" Latara's voice faded along with her strength, then everything went black. * * * * * The first thing Latara noticed when she woke was the bitter taste in her mouth and cold, hard pressure on her wrists and ankles. She opened her bleary eyes and stared at the gray wall in front of her. She tried to turn her head, but a leather strap held it in place. "Hey!" she demanded, sounding stronger and more confident than she felt. "What's going on? I fucking know somebody is watching me. I can feel it, so get your ass over here and talk." "I've been told charm is one of your greatest attributes," said a grating male voice from behind her. She heard the click of shoes on the floor and a moment later, a well-dressed man appeared in front of her. Tall and lean with eyes black enough to swallow a person's soul, he gazed at her, an icy smile on his lips. "Latara Fortino. Protector of the unworthy. Daughter of the traitor Mike Fortino." Fury nearly overcame Latara, but bound as she was, she had no way to release it except through the glare she shot at her captor. "I'm guessing you're some sort of psychic scum. Or maybe a demon. You haven't got the teeth for a vampire and from what I can see in those pants, your dick is too small for a werewolf." His smile broadened. "There's no reason why I shouldn't satisfy your curiosity. I'm called Beetle and I have many gifts." With a wave of his hand, he cut off Latara's breathing. Panic tightened her chest and she called upon her inner fire, feeling it shoot from her fingertips. Unfortunately, in her position she was unable to direct it. Just when she was about to black out again, he released his telekinetic hold on her and she lay panting. "If you plan on killing me, Beetle, just get it over with, because if you want info, you'll find I'll die before I break." "No doubt. I've heard you're like your father when it comes to idiotic stubbornness. During his years in your Sun to Moon Society, he destroyed dozens of my minions. Finally one succeeded in taking his life." "You mean the demon I blew to kingdom come?" She chuckled humorlessly. Beetle stepped closer, his face etched with rage, and grasped her chin so hard tears sprang into her eyes. "He was my lover." "When I was kicking his ass I knew it felt a little loose," she bit out. He squeezed her chin tighter, forcing a groan of pain from her throat. The insides of her cheeks scraped against her teeth and the taste of blood filled her mouth. "Go ahead, Beetle. Take your revenge. Kill me." He released her abruptly, his expression once again calm. "It seems you're not up on history, Latara. In ancient Egypt, the beetle, or scarab, was a symbol of eternal life. Killing you would be too merciful for what you've done. I will hold you here forever or at least until the natural end of your mortal life. It will give you time to think about the path you've chosen and the mistakes you've made. Our kind, those with power beyond the norm, are meant to rule the world, not save it." "Not the world I live in, you sick bastard." "Perhaps not, but from now on, Latara, you live in my world." He waved his hand. Colors exploded in front of her and once again she couldn't breathe. Pain shot through her from head to toe and she screamed for what seemed like forever. Then the pain ebbed. She tumbled through a dark, cold sky and hit the ground with a grunt. The winter chill struck her. Slush pressed against the side of her face. The sound of cars and the buzz of conversation dragged her back to reality. A horn honked and a man shouted, "Hey, lady, get out of the road!" Realizing she was sprawled in the middle of a busy street, Latara pushed herself to her feet and hurried to the sidewalk. Her heart raced and she took a moment to collect herself. She knew this place. Boston Common. She wanted to sigh with relief, but something told her to keep alert. Unless Beetle had been part of the most intense dream of her life, there was no way he'd let her off this easily. A chill cut through her and she glanced down and saw that in spite of the winter day, she wore nothing but high-heeled slippers adorned with white feathers and a transparent black silk nightgown with matching panties. Not even a damn bra. Her pebble-hard nipples poked against the flimsy fabric. She had to get off the street before she either froze to death or someone shoved a ten dollar bill up her ass. Trying not to break her ankles in the damn high heels, she hurried down the slippery sidewalk, past crowds of people, toward her apartment. Oddly, no one took notice of a rather attractive, half-dressed woman. She also realized most passersby looked happy. Too happy. Drunken happy. Something was definitely wrong. Since she had no key, she waited, shivering outside her building, until someone else was buzzed in. Then she rushed to her apartment. She found the door unlocked and stepped inside. Though the lights didn't work, enough brightness shone in through the windows for her to see. The place looked like it hadn't been lived in for months. Dust covered everything and the temperature was nearly as low as outdoors. Before doing anything else, she needed to find some sensible clothes. On her way to the bedroom, she caught sight of her father's picture hanging by the clock. Usually seeing his face comforted her, but this time the feeling of dread was too powerful to overcome. In her room, she took boots, jeans and a heavy red sweater from her closet. Before she had a chance to put them on, she heard voices from the next room. "Now what?" she muttered, kicking off the slippers. A fat, redheaded man stepped into the room and growled, "What the hell are you doing here?" "I live here," she said, curling her lip. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Sure. You live here. Right. Come on, baby. Get your ass back on the street where it belongs. If people like you crash here, I'll never get this place rented again." He reached for her arm, but she broke his hold and shoved him aside. "Hands off. I'm telling you I live here. I'm Latara Fortino." He wrinkled his nose. "Who? What? Sweetheart, I've been the manager here for ten years and I don't know any Latara Fortino. I said get out of here. Now." Two oversized cops, entered the room. "What's the problem?" one asked. "Her." The alleged building manager pointed a stubby finger at Latara. "She's crazy." "I'd say so, wearing a little outfit like that in the middle of winter." One of the cops grinned and reached for her arm, his green eyes fixed on her breasts. "Ma'am, maybe I can be of assistance." "No," Latara said. "I'm on my way out." "So soon?" The other cop smiled, revealing a mouthful of jagged animal teeth. The scent of lustful demon filled the air and Latara's heart nearly leapt through her chest. Unarmed, her chances against demons of this size and unknown origin weren't good. Most demons could easily repel her firepower. Without bothering to talk longer, she took her clothes and raced out of the apartment. This was an insane world. Demon cops. Her apartment abandoned. What had Beetle said? From now on, Latara, you live in my world. Outside the cold wind sliced through her again. This time, however, she didn't go unnoticed. People wearing maniacal grins followed her, stepping out of homes and businesses. Some looked human while others had demonic features—fangs, glowing eyes, fingernails like long, curved blades. Pausing a moment, she shifted her clothes to one arm, then tried to summon the flames, difficult when she was this cold. Finally a streak of fire burst from her free hand. Screams and savage growls echoed from the crowd. Some people fell back while others, seemingly immune to the flames, kept advancing on her. "Great," she muttered in disgust and turned down an alley. She stumbled over a garbage can and cut her bare foot on a broken bottle. Though the cold prevented her from feeling as much pain as she should, Latara realized she needed to clean the wound as soon as possible. Panting, she tried to keep her pace fast and steady. She reached the end of the alley and darted down the sidewalk. A glance behind her revealed her bloody footprints in the snow and to her horror, the enormous crowd still followed her. Two werewolves, their elongated noses twitching and fangs gleaming, paused to sniff her bloody tracks. "Hey, lady, do you need some help?" a male voice, deep yet soft and touched with an Australian accent, spoke from behind her. Gasping, she spun toward a brick building where a rangy man in a black knit hat leaned nonchalantly against the doorway. Though his hat concealed the top of his head, his light eyebrows, pale skin and slight spray of freckles across his nose told her he might possibly be a strawberry blond. A black leather shirt hugged his torso, accentuating his broad shoulders, chiseled chest and the muscular curves of his arms. Matching pants encased his ultra-long legs and worn, slush-covered boots covered his feet. His blue-gray eyes, piercing and slanted at the corners, stared at her with a hint of amusement. Something in his expression sent a shiver down her spine. Latara had seen eyes like his before. The look in them wasn't simply tough, but jaded. It was easy for someone in her profession to end up with eyes like that and she'd always prayed it wouldn't happen to her. There was something else about him that she couldn't quite place and it unsettled her. "It's safer in here," he said, straightening his posture and opening the door. "Unless you want to take your chances with the crowd." She curled her lip, shivered with the cold and glanced at the rapidly approaching crew of weirdoes. Turning back to him, she asked, "Why should I think you're the better choice?" "Maybe because I'm carrying on a normal conversation and not drooling at the mouth. Unless of course that kind of thing turns you on. Decide now. I'm not about to be stuck out here when they pass." Neither choice was good, so Latara took the lesser of the two evils and stepped into the building. He followed, closing the door behind them. "They saw where we went," she said. "Won't they follow us?" "Could be, but doubtful. It's the chase they love. Most likely they'll just wait for you to come out again." "What is this place exactly?" she asked, since he seemed to have all the answers. "Beetle's idea of fun. Our idea of hell." "Tell me what you know about Beetle." If she gathered information and began thinking rationally, as if on an assignment, she could find a way out of this mess. Take one step at a time. That's what Daddy had always said. "Beetle," he said. "Let's see. Multi-gifted psychic. Some shaman blood on his maternal grandmother's side. Thinks he should rule the world. Enjoys torture, mind fucking and expensive suits. Anything else you need to know?" "Yeah. What have you got to do with him and how many flights up do we need to go?" she panted, leaning heavily on the banister as they climbed up the seemingly endless staircase. Now that she had started to thaw out, the cut on her foot really hurt. Several steps ahead of her, he stopped. His piercing gaze swept her, lingering momentarily on her breasts beneath the transparent silk. He glanced at her injured foot, strode briskly toward her and swept her into his arms. Taken by surprise, she instinctively grasped his powerful shoulders and nearly dropped her clothes and boots. Why hadn't she put them on when she'd stepped into the building? "Hey this isn't necessary," she said. He continued up the stairs. "You're hurt, right? We need to go to the top floor." She realized she wasn't the kind of lady easily carried up a flight of never-ending steps. Not that she wouldn't take her curves over the bony look any day. Apparently he liked what he saw too. Again he glanced at her breasts that pressed together into lush mounds as she clung to him. One of her nipples poked enticingly against his chest. Latara took a moment to study his face up close. He wasn't traditionally handsome, but had rugged features and those compelling eyes. Though hard, they weren't cold. That told her something important. This man had certainly lost his innocence, but not his heart. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. Pressed against him, she noted that his body felt as hard and strong as it looked. In spite of her situation, desire coiled in her belly. Her nipples tightened even more, not from the cold this time, but from arousal. A faint, delicious ache began in her clit and flared through her pussy. Her internal muscles tightened and she resisted the urge to squirm with pleasure. Her pulse leapt, yet she knew she couldn't let her attraction to this man affect her judgment. His eyes shifted toward her face and the nostrils of his long, chiseled nose flared slightly, as if catching the scent of her desire. Impossible. Most likely he was just taking a deeper breath from the stress of toting her ass up the stairs. Yet he didn't seem to be having any trouble. His strides were remarkably quick and his breathing was slightly heavier, but not labored. They finally reached the top floor. He carried her to the end of the hallway and placed her on her feet so he could open the door leading to an apartment. Inside, Latara's rescuer switched on the light. Glancing around, she saw the place was sparsely decorated with simple wooden furniture. Clothes and old newspapers littered the couch and floor. A few dishes soaked in the sink of the kitchenette. To the left, an open door led to a bedroom with a large bed covered in rumpled sheets. "I see housekeeping is high on your list of things to do," she commented. "The bathroom is through there." He pointed toward the bedroom. "If you're cold you'll probably want to take a nice hot soak in the tub." "I need some information first." "Fair enough. I wouldn't mind some info myself." "Who are you and how are you connected to Beetle?" "My name is Ethan Harris. I owe something to one of Beetle's employees. When I tried to pay him back, Beetle got pissed off and flung me into this psychic-induced coma. What's your story, little Miss Sexy Negligee?" Latara wasn't sure if she should take that comment as a taunt or a compliment. By the look in his eyes and the faint, approving smile on his lips, she decided on the latter. "My name is Latara Fortino and Beetle abducted me." "Why?" She shrugged. "How should I know?" At this point she decided it was safer to disclose as little as possible. Until she learned more about Mr. Ethan Harris, she intended to remain on her guard. After all, this handsome prince could easily become the villain of the fairytale. Their gazes locked and Latara's stomach tightened. She'd stared down some of the fiercest criminals in the world, yet none had made her want to wriggle like this, both from desire and apprehension. His gaze tore through her, cutting past the many layers of her soul. For a moment she wondered if he wasn't telepathic. "Have your bath and get into your warmer clothes. Then we can eat something and talk more." That sounded reasonable. She walked to the bathroom, glad to find the old-fashioned white tub clean. After closing the door, she ran the water and walked to the window, pulled the shade back slightly and glanced outside. The crowd had disappeared and the street was strangely empty for dusk in the city. A layer of snow had already covered any tracks left by the bizarre group hunting her. Once the tub filled, she settled into it with a feeling of déjà vu. This time she didn't close her eyes, no matter how soothing the water felt. She'd been soaking only a few moments when the door opened and she gasped, her entire body tensing. Ethan strode inside, carrying a towel, bandages and socks. He'd removed his hat, exposing his smooth-shaven head. She'd always loved the bare look and this guy could really wear it. What a beautifully shaped head. The urge to run her hands and lips over it nearly overcame her shock at him barging in on her. Nearly. "Doesn't anybody knock anymore?" she demanded. "You need a towel and something to wrap your foot." He placed the items on the sink, opened the archaic medicine cabinet and removed a bottle of antiseptic. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he reached for her foot. "Let's have a look." "Hey!" she snapped, trying to jerk away from his grasp, but he was too damn strong. She considered kicking him and making a run for it, but something compelled her to stay. For some bizarre reason, he made her feel safe almost as much as he unsettled her. This guy was both scary and comforting at the same time, and few things frightened or comforted Latara Fortino. She was a tough lady. She wrestled werewolves as a hobby and hunted demons for a living. Of course she had the same needs as other women, but she had never surrendered completely to a man. Fighting evil was one thing, but risking her heart was another. She had never allowed a man to sweep her off her feet, either literally or figuratively. Now this long-legged, smoothed-headed Aussie with the killer blue eyes had done both within five-minutes. "Stop fighting and let me help you," he ordered in that deep, sexy voice that she longed to hear whispering dirty things in her ear while his lean, hard body devoured hers. She shocked herself by actually obeying. He inspected her foot with surprising gentleness, then cleaned it with the antiseptic. It should probably bother her to be lying naked in a tub of water while a strange man tended her injury, but she felt more aroused than embarrassed. After placing the antiseptic aside, he continued holding her foot. His fingertips gently caressed the arch then moved up to stroke her ankle. It felt so good that she resisted the urge to moan with pleasure. All the while he stared at her with those slanted, animal-like eyes—incredibly sexy yet with a hint of the wild. "I want you to listen to me carefully," he said. "Sure." "Beetle controls us and this world through his mind. He is very powerful." "I noticed that," she said, settling more comfortably into the tub. When he released her foot and reached for her other one, she didn't stop him. He massaged her uninjured foot, using his thumbs to press against the sole and his fingers to caress her instep. "I believe there is a way to fight him and break out of this psychic prison." This caught her interest and she sat a bit straighter. "I'm listening." "We need something intense enough to make our minds overpower his. Pain can work. I've tried it and have managed to rouse myself out of this nightmare." "Then what are you still doing here?" she asked, wary of anything he might tell her. Yes all this was very nice, meeting a savior who gave a great foot massage and had a body to die for, but wasn't it a bit too convenient? Maybe he wasn't saving her at all. Perhaps he was part of Beetle's plan to ruin her life. "The pain stirred me enough to bring me back to reality," he continued. "I was back in the real world, chained up in whatever place Beetle had brought me to. I'm still not sure where it is exactly. However my time there was short. For some reason the pain wasn't enough for me to overcome him completely." "Can anybody really cause themselves that much pain anyway? Unless you do something drastic, you're not going to keep up pain intense enough to beat a powerful, mind-fucking psychic at his own game." The frosty look in his eyes took her aback. "You'd be surprised. But that's not the point. Pain, no matter how intense, isn't enough. Or maybe one person's pain isn't enough, but if two of us combine our emotions—" "Excuse me?" She gave him her sternest look and jerked her foot from his grasp. "No way am I going to dive into some crazy-assed pain ritual with you. I don't even know you and I certainly don't have a reason to trust you." "I'm not suggesting pain." He stood, leaned over the tub and braced his hands on either side of her head. Latara moistened her lips, her pulse quickening from Ethan's nearness. She felt the warmth of his breath on her face and noticed it carried the faintest hint of peppermint. "Then what the hell are you suggesting?" "Pleasure." He lifted a hand and trailed it between her water-slicked breasts. "Pleasure?" She tried not to look as interested as she felt. The idea of experiencing pleasure with this man was…Well, it was exactly what she'd been needing for a long time. Not only was he physically attractive, but he looked as if he had the potency of a bull in mating season. She recalled the way he'd toted her up the stairs without breaking a sweat. Power. Stamina. And by the enticing bulge in the front of his pants, he could satisfy her in every way. Hold on, Latara. Get a grip. Think. One step at a time. "Why haven't you tried this with somebody else?" she asked. "This world has lots of people in it." "And you saw them," he said, still holding her gaze. "They're crazy. Those who weren't created by Beetle as part of this insane fantasy have been placed here by him. They're prisoners just like we are, except they've been here for so long they've surrendered to the madness. That's how I picked you out, Latara. You were dressed completely wrong. You looked terrified. You were running. In the real world, you would have looked insane, but in this world you were simply doing what any sane person would do." "Racing half-naked through the streets in fear of my life?" "Exactly." He leaned a bit closer, his lips almost touching hers. "Whether you believe me or not, you're still stuck here. If we do this and it works, good for us. If we do it and it doesn't, what have you lost?" He had a point. "Do you have any safety?" she murmured, her breath quickening with anticipation. "Sure." He reached behind the tub and, as if by magic, picked up a condom and held it in front of her. "Ribbed for her comfort," she breathed. "Everything for her comfort," he whispered and covered her mouth in a kiss so hot and deep she couldn't keep from moaning.

To visit the webrings the Kate Hill site belongs to, go here!

The graphics used to create this site were designed by Wolfden Creations.