~~Warning: Mature themes~~
On Sundays, I share tidbits of my works in progress as part of Weekend Warrior’s 8-Sentence Sunday.
I know I left some readers (and myself) wondering last week how the hero of Bound to Her Master would perform during the slave games. However, I've had to put that book aside temporarily to focus on a new story, as it is part of a series slated to launch at the end of November. (Can you believe it's just around the corner?)
The Sons of Herne will be a series of short fantasy tales focused around the eight pagan sabbats and the seductive gods appointed to oversee them. This week's snippet is the opener for my as-yet-untitled Yule story.
The crisp bite of frost in the air was sharp enough to sting even the nostrils of an immortal, but it was the scent of anticipation that Dominus inhaled most as he strode through the woods. He needn’t have bothered approaching this way, on foot through the wild forest. He could simply appear inside her cottage, where it was no doubt warm and welcoming. Still, he preferred to walk the wintry landscape at this time of year, when the crunch of snow beneath his boots and the heady scent of pine sparked a most pleasant ache between his legs. The crackle of ice breaking off a nearby branch was a call to duty, the brush of chilled wind a push toward his destiny. The nipples on his bare chest hardened, but not solely from the cold breeze across his skin. Most humans marked the change in their annual calendars on a different day, but Dominus was well aware that this night, the night of the Winter Solstice, would be when he brought forth a new year. He and the woman he had been carefully preparing for this moment.
So, what do you think?
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I'm J. Rose Allister, wife, working mom, and the author of over twenty-five books. Somewhere in between one and the next, I love hanging out here on my blog and over on Twitter. Give me a comment or follow-I love chatting with people!