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  PRAISE FOR

  A TASTE OF ICE

  “On my must-read list . . . Such a great read! A Taste of Ice is a perfect spring read while the ice outside melts. Xavier is a beautiful, intensely sexy hero with just the right touch of achingly tormented soul that you can’t help but want to heal . . . Cat is a wonderful heroine, she’s lovely, strong, talented, intelligent . . . and she’s fun to read.”

  —The Romance Reader

  “Hanna Martine did not disappoint as she continued to make the world of The Elementals even more intriguing.”

  —Under the Covers

  “Savor the journey again and again. The characters are deep, with multifaceted loyalties, pasts, and personalities that drag a reader into the story . . . These books totally rock and I cannot wait for the next one!”

  —Coffee Time Romance

  LIQUID LIES

  “An amazing start to The Elementals series and one I recommend.”

  —Under the Covers Book Blog

  “A different spin on the paranormal.”

  —Dark Faerie Tales

  “A really fun, sensual book. I’m excited about this world and I’m already eager to get the next one. A nice debut.”

  —Smexy Books

  Berkley Sensation titles by Hanna Martine

  The Elementals

  LIQUID LIES

  A TASTE OF ICE

  DROWNING IN FIRE

  The Highland Games Novels

  LONG SHOT

  DROWING IN FIRE

  HANNA MARTINE

  BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  DROWNING IN FIRE

  A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2014 by Hanna Martine.

  Excerpt by Hanna Martine copyright © 2014 by Hanna Martine.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

  BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-0-425-26753-0

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62183-7

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / April 2014

  Cover photo © Conrado/Shutterstock.

  Cover design by Jason Gill.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  CONTENTS

  Praise for Hanna Martine

  Books by Hanna Martine

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Preview of Hanna Martine’s next Highland Games Novel

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to Cyndi Culhane, Lynne Hartzer, and Erica O’Rourke for writerly help in the developmental stages; and to Eliza Evans for her ever-insightful input on the completed manuscript.

  Also, thank you to my husband, who really took one for the team and made a brave, brave sacrifice when he brought me to the Big Island of Hawaii for “research.”

  PROLOGUE

  Three years ago

  KEKO

  “I’m not a damn babysitter.”

  Keko stomped after the Chimeran ali’i, her bare feet kicking aside old, brown leaves and crunching through patches of crispy April mountain snow. This was a shit assignment, one far below her well-deserved and hard-won position, and she’d growl at the retreating bare back of her uncle until he realized that.

  “Chief, wait.”

  He finally stopped, one big hand on the flap of his tent, his dusky shoulders sloping under the weight of a sigh. Slowly he turned around to face her, his black eyebrows, dusted with silver, rising with growing impatience. At least he wasn’t deaf. There was still a chance.

  “Send Bane,” Keko demanded, moving as close to the ali’i as was allowed by clan law. “Or Makaha. I’m the general, for fuck’s sake.”

  Someday, after she threw down the challenge and wrested the position of ali’i away from her uncle, she would delegate assignments appropriate to a Chimeran’s worthiness. Until that moment arrived, she would forever argue to get her way.

  A gust of frigid Utah wind swept down the mountain and raced through the leafless spikes of the tightly packed stand of trees. Keko mentally reached deep inside her body, touching the heart of her fire magic, and turned up her inner heat. The ali’i did so as well, and wispy layers of steam lifted off the exposed skin of their torsos like wings.

  “You’re impertinent is what you are,” he replied. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but there was a reason why he’d been ali’i for nearly two decades. The way he commanded respect with a simple stare was unmatched. She consistently tried to emulate it.

  “And difficult,” he added. “But you’re also my second and you’re the most capable, the most skilled.”

  Damn straight she was. “So—”

  Chief lifted a hand, his palm a paler shade than the native Hawaiian tint to his skin. “The Senatus deliberated for a hell of a long time before finally agreeing to grant the new Ofarian leader an audience. There are reasons we’ve kept our distance from the water elementals, not the least of which being they are historically greedy, pompous, and want to control everything. There’s no one we trust more than you to shadow him his entire time here, make sure he doesn’t overstep his bounds.”

  The flame inside her flared in frustration. “That’s babysitting.”

  “It’s guarding,” he snapped, and she was f
orced to take a step back. Only for him would she do that. Chief drew himself up. “You will bring him to and from Senatus gatherings. You will explain to him the group’s procedures and history, what we do and don’t cover. You will keep him within range at all times and monitor any communications he has with his people.”

  Yes, sir was on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn’t bring it out.

  “And you will report back to us everything he says or asks, and your answers. Tell us how he is different away from the meetings, if there are any contradictions to his behavior. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious. This is an evaluation period for him and his people before we consider giving them a seat around the bonfire.”

  “Do I have permission to kick his ass if he falls out of line?”

  Chief gave her a rare grin, one that pulled at the deep lines around his eyes. “And that’s exactly why we chose you to do this, Keko.”

  She ran a hand up and down her bare arm, dragging little orange sparks in its wake. The mid-day sky looked heavy with snow. “What’s he like? What do you already know about him?”

  Chief shifted, his big feet making new prints in the old snow. “A limited amount. He is new to the leadership, having been part of an overthrow of the Ofarian government two years ago. Only after he took over did he learn his former leaders had been hiding knowledge of other elementals’ existence.” Chief let out a huff of breath, bathing her in a wave of Chimeran heat. “He’s been pursuing contact with the Senatus for over a year. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. Determined. Very serious.”

  “Great.” Keko rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a blast.” She waved a hand in the direction of the large olive-green tent she, her brother Bane, and the warrior Makaha shared. “So are we all supposed to cuddle up with this Ofarian at night and make him feel warm and snuggly so he spills his secrets?”

  Chief snorted. “He’s Ofarian, which means he’s spoiled and arrogant. He’s taken a hotel room in town at the base of the mountain. You’ll be staying in a room next to his.”

  “What?” She would miss sleeping in the night air, no matter how cold it was. Temperature didn’t mean much to her kind.

  “I’m done arguing. It’s an order.” Stern brown eyes, the nearly black shade all Chimerans shared, nailed her in place. “Now go pick up Griffin Aames from the airport, get him to his hotel, and bring him to the gathering tonight.”

  Chief disappeared into his tent, the flap snapping closed behind him.

  Keko marched to her tent, grabbed her small, threadbare duffel of clothes and things, and started on the two-mile hike down to where they’d parked the car. Despite her reluctance over the assignment, at least she got to drive. There were only a few vehicles in the entire Chimeran valley back home and very little need for them, but she loved getting behind the wheel. It felt so free. So very modern. So outside her own culture.

  Icy wind swirled through the open car windows as she sped for Salt Lake City. She’d tied her hair back, but long, black strands still whipped at her face. This was when she loved to leave Hawaii, to feel cold new climates like this. To strengthen her magic by having to use it at all times to keep warm.

  The designated meeting spot, she’d been told, was a corner of the day-use parking garage under the light pole labeled 2E. She found it, swung into a parking place, and sat. When her knee started to bounce with impatience and her belly rumbled with hunger, she jumped out of the car to head over to the vending machines perched near the elevators. Another incredible thing her people didn’t have: food and drink at the drop of a coin.

  A few steps away from the car she remembered the biggest rule about being seen outside of the Chimeran valley, especially in colder areas where Primaries lived: clothes.

  With a growl she went back to the car and pulled out a pair of flimsy sandals with an uncomfortable strap between the toes and the lone sweatshirt she owned: a pilled gray zippered thing with “Minnesota Gophers” in cracked red and gold print across the front. At least she still had on the holey jeans with the frayed, wet hems, and one of the white tank tops she favored. Putting clothing on Chimeran skin was like scraping nails over silk. Not that she’d ever worn silk, but she’d seen pictures and had read descriptions of it in the old, dog-eared magazines that sometimes made it to the valley. The things she did for Primary comfort and Secondary secrecy . . .

  Leaving the sweatshirt unzipped, she went to the vending machines and popped change into the slots, pulling out a bottle of Coke and potato chips. She’d eaten half the bag when a deep voice sounded behind her.

  “You must be my ride.”

  Turning around, she screwed off the Coke cap with a hiss. The guy who stood halfway between her and the car wore jeans and boots and a fitted black coat with all sorts of zippers and pockets. His hair was very short and nearly as dark as hers. Thick, straight, low-set eyebrows were the most prominent feature on his face and made him seem intense and serious.

  She glanced around the otherwise empty garage corner. “Don’t think I am.”

  He nudged his chin toward her car. “Two E,” he said. “Where I’m supposed to meet you. You must be Kekona.”

  To trust him or not? He wasn’t anything like the pampered, self-important Ofarian she’d pictured. Not this militaristic-looking guy who couldn’t be more than a few years older than she.

  The man stood impossibly straight, as though someone had shoved a pole up his ass. “You’re Secondary and I’m Griffin Aames.” There was absolutely no intonation to his voice.

  Oh, this guy was going to be a bag of fun.

  “And what brings you to the lovely state of Utah?” she asked.

  He had a really good check on his emotions. Only a slight shift of his feet gave away his frustration. “For the Senatus gathering. Was there a secret code somewhere I missed?”

  And just like that, the first spark of attraction lit an unexpected flame inside her. To be fair, it didn’t take much for her. For him though, there was nothing. Just a patient stare as he waited to be chauffeured to his fancy feather bed.

  “No code. You just have to get past me.” She lifted the Coke to her lips and took a swig, never taking her eyes off his.

  A gust of wind barreled through the garage, opening one side of her sweatshirt and folding it back from her body.

  Bingo. Griffin’s brown eyes—lighter than a Chimeran’s but still pretty dark—flicked to her chest. Flicked. Nothing more. She never wore one of those bra things—no Chimeran woman did—and she knew very well how she looked. The thin white tank top stretched over brown skin and even darker nipples. There wasn’t much of her to be left to the imagination, and modesty had never been one of her strong suits.

  It had been a long time. For her, at least. Maybe a month since she’d had any sort of physical contact, let alone full-on sex. And right then she was looking at the most wonderful sort of challenge, wrapped up in an olive-skinned package: the guy she’d been tasked with shadowing for the next seven days. The Ofarian with the one-note expression whose business-only walls were so thick not even hard nipples could noticeably break through them. The very opposite of who she was. The water to her fire.

  He was not Chimeran. He was kapu. Forbidden.

  But then, wasn’t she supposed to find out things about him that he didn’t reveal to the Senatus? Sex always seemed to bring out the hidden, no matter who was involved. She was willing to bet Griffin Aames wasn’t any different. He was locked up so airtight she guessed that once those walls came down, there would be no stopping the onslaught of everything he’d tried to hold back. She couldn’t wait to discover what that was.

  But that was enough teasing the unsuspecting Ofarian for one day, especially since they’d just met minutes ago. There was an art to seduction, to the chase, and applying it to someone who was not a Chimeran slathered on an extra layer of excitement. Getting around what her clan had declared to be kapu w
ould be a fantastic, fun challenge. Keko folded closed the Gophers sweatshirt.

  Griffin carried a structured black duffel with barely a travel scratch, and with a clearing of his throat, he swung it around to dangle off the back of one shoulder. He was an inch or two above six feet, not that much taller than her.

  “I’m not carrying that for you,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed slightly, and she found she liked the tiny movement of his thick eyebrows. It was easy to hide expression under those things, so when they actually twitched she knew there was something going on in his gorgeous head.

  “Wasn’t expecting you to,” he replied.

  “Good. Now that we’re clear on that.” She circled around him to get to the car, wondering the whole time—the whole ten seconds—if his eyes had tracked the back of her head . . . or her ass.

  With one hand on the door handle and the other clutching her drink and potato chips, she swept a good long look around the parking garage. No one else was around.

  “Where’d you come from?” she asked as he went around to the other side of the car, threw open the passenger side door, and tossed his bag in the backseat.

  “San Francisco. But of course you already knew that.”

  “I did.”

  His door still open, he planted one hand on the top of it. “Where are you from?”

  She laughed, because the Chimerans had never revealed their home to anyone not born with fire. “Nice try.”

  When he shrugged, she found herself intrigued by the fluidity of his shoulders, how he’d suddenly broken out of his rigid mold. The straight face remained, however, along with the severe line of those eyebrows.

  She folded her arms on top of the car. “How’d you know I was Secondary?”

  Without hesitation, “Your signature. I can tell you have magic, that you’re not a Primary human. I can feel you.”

  This man was infuriating, in the best possible way. She had no idea if he knew what his doublespeak implied or if he was doing it on purpose. And she found that she loved it, that ambiguity. So did the fire inside.