Book 3 of the Sons of Herne series
Barnes and Noble
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.