Book 3 of the Sons of Herne series
February, 2016
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They will hunt each
other for a love they never expected…
It
is the time of Ostara, and Tallisun, god of the sabbat, has little interest in fulfilling
his duty by bedding a woman for the ritual of spring. He would much rather be
part of the Thousand Seasons hunt that his father, Herne, forbade him from
attending. When Tallisun goes off on a hunt of his own, he nearly shoots a
beautiful earth woman who wanders in front of his arrow. To retaliate for
costing him his trophy, he steals her garments while she bathes in a nearby
lake.
Harper
is camping solo when her clothes are taken by a handsome, well-built male who
is sexy as hell, but clearly off his rocker. After all, who runs around the
forest wearing antlers and claiming to be a god? But to her shock, Tallisun proves
his antlers are real, and the god of Ostara has intentions toward her that are far
less than platonic.
He
has an intriguing proposition: let him hunt her in the woods. If he catches her,
she will become the spring maiden in a carnal ritual he has become more
interested in than ever. Harper wouldn’t mind a one-time rendezvous with such a
delicious morsel, except for his aggravating doubt in her survival skills. So she
has a better idea. He will not hunt her. They will hunt each other.
The
contest of becoming both hunter and hunted will take them to a place of primal yearning,
and their sabbat union will awaken unexpected consequences that complicate
their mutual decision to part amicably after the ritual is through.
Harper listened to his words,
her brows raised, wondering how she’d managed to bump into such an unstable man.
What must have happened to him to make him disavow belonging to the entire
human species?
Tallisun, if that was his
real name, was the most attractive man she’d met in a long time, and how crazy
was that? His looks didn’t matter, though, only the fact that he was clearly
disturbed. He thought he was a god—the god of some spring sabbat—and he wanted
her help with a pagan ritual to make spring official. Ha! She bet he did. No
doubt he’d lured women in with this speech before. How many “spring maidens”
had he conned into bed with his fake horns and golden contact lenses? Or maybe
they weren’t fooled at all, but they just didn’t care. He was certainly
gorgeous enough to contemplate doing all sorts of rituals with.
What would he do when she
turned him down? Her eyes kept flicking to the bow and quiver sticking up
behind him, as well as her knives that were closer to him than she would like.
What if he didn’t give her a choice about this “ritual”? Then again, if he had
plans to harm her, he could have done so already. So maybe he
would go away quietly when she turned him down. She just had to make sure to do
it politely, so as not to agitate him.
“Well, I must say I’m
flattered,” she said, trying on a smile. “And of course it’s tempting. But I’m
afraid I’m not up to such an honor.”
His head cocked. “You are not
being sincere.” He took a step closer. “You do not believe me.”
She backed away. “No, it’s
not that at all. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Pull on my horns.”
She made a face. “We went through that
already.”
“I will make you see that I’m
telling the truth.” He reached up and pulled the antlers himself. “See? Try.”
Curious despite herself, she
stepped closer and reached out. He bent slightly to oblige her, and she gave an
experimental tug. She frowned and pulled harder.
“Oh my god,” she said, and
after a pause, she yanked hard enough to jerk his head forward. “How is this possible?”
She dug through his golden
hair, leaning closer, inspecting the area where the horns sat on his head. No, where
they stuck out from his head. His scalp grew up over the first section of the antlers, hair and all, where it was wider at the base.
His scent surrounded her, so
male that her body felt more aware of him with each inhalation. The aroma of
clover, dewy and fresh, assaulted her senses. His scent invoked memories of
childhood, when days were spent lying on her back in the grass, watching clouds
roll by while their shapes morphed into unicorns and princesses and brave
knights galloping through the sky. He smelled like heaven. Masculine,
take-her-to-the-edge heaven.
Harper glanced down to see
that her rather thorough examination had brought Tallisuns’s eyes into very
close range. He was staring almost through her with that smoldering,
golden-brown gaze, and his irises twinkled with more than a little amusement.
“They really don’t come off, do they?” she said, taking a step
back.
