Her gaze fell to his chest, and he found it difficult to breathe normally while she watched it move up and down. “Because it sounds like you don’t really care who the women are, and you aren’t invested in them. You have your moment of pleasure, sure, but there’s no real connection. It’s a shallow experience for you. And the women, well, don’t get me started. Not even a climax?”
He frowned. “Not because I am uncaring as a lover. When I cross the realms, I wear the veil pendant. They are aware of me well enough to grant full consent, generally in their sleep. But they do not see nor feel me during the ritual.”
She made a strange face. “That sounds awful.”
Tallisun pulled back. “They are not harmed. They are not even touched if they do not wish to give themselves freely.”
“But you said the ritual is about balance.”
“Of course.”
“Well, this sounds pretty one-sided to me. You get to feel, you get the release. The woman gets zip aside from a brief rousting from sleep so they can tell you yes or no. Now, while that may reflect a male-female dynamic that does actually happen to earth women, I’m surprised to hear the arrangement actually fulfills the needs of a sacred ritual.”
He stared at her. “You are displeased with the traditions of my sabbat.”
“Wouldn’t you be if things were reversed? What if I came along like an invisible ghost, whispering in your ear that I needed consent to use you for orgasm while you didn’t get a thing out of it?”
The very notion of her coming to him in the night in order to use him for sex sent a hot jolt through him.
“The women understand that they are performing a sacred and vital duty for the sake of both our realms. They are helping preserve the balance.”
She snorted. “Some balance. They should at least get pleasure for playing their part.”
“It was not always this way. There was a time when sabbat gods walked freely on earth. Pagan rituals with humans were quite a different matter then.” He sighed and reached up to run his hand over his antlers. “But your people are no longer as willing to accept that there are beings who are, shall we say, different. Immortal. Because of this, we rarely reveal ourselves, especially those of us who are unable to pass as human. The sabbat rituals are a much simpler matter to perform while cloaked, during a woman’s sleep.”
Harper seemed to consider that. “So you not only chose me on your own, but you revealed yourself when that isn’t normally done either?” She gave him a knowing grin. “You like me.” There was a gleeful tone in it that made it clear she was teasing him.
Tallisun pursed his lips and affected his most authoritative tone. “As I said, liking the spring maiden is not part of my duty.”
Her eyes twinkled with mirth now. “The pagan god of Ostara likes me. He wants me as his spring maiden, so he won’t have to lie with some cold fish who’s asleep the whole time. Surely that must be a buzz kill for you.”
He opened his mouth to chide her, but she laid a finger over his lips. “Shh. Let me have my fun. It’s rare enough for a guy to hold a door for me, let alone buck supernatural traditions that have been around for ages. You know,” she added, taking on a more serious tone, “maybe in order to have true balance, the women should have some criteria of their own. Maybe they need a say in how the god of Ostara takes care of his ritual business.”
Her finger on his mouth had his full attention, and he decided two could tease far better than one. He swept his tongue out and drew her finger into his mouth, sucking it deeply. Her self-satisfied smile vanished as she gasped. He felt a twinge of satisfaction when her eyes fluttered while his tongue swirled around her finger.
She pulled away, but he could see he had made his point from her widening pupils and the warm, heady change in her scent. She could mock and have her fun, but he not only had the heart of a trickster, but the soul of a forest god. A hunter. She may have managed a moment’s advantage in their hunting contest, but he had snared his prize before the contest had even begun.
Tallisun kissed her, failing utterly in the attempt to keep his contact as light and teasing as he had managed before. When she responded by circling his waist with her hands, he groaned and plundered her mouth with his tongue. By all the gods of the realm, he wanted her, and he showed her how much by pulling her against him and thrusting his hips in a lewd motion. She let out a little whimper, her warm, sweet breath tormenting him. He knew where they were headed, and he almost didn’t stop himself. But he’d already gone farther than he should, as a god who kept himself celibate as part of his ritual purification.
Harper was thoroughly flushed, and her mouth red from his kiss, by the time he was through. She stared at him, her gaze a little wide and yet unfocused. Strands of her hair poked out from her ponytail, flirting with her cheeks. He pushed them back.
“In case there was any question as to whether I meet your criteria,” he said. “Or whether you would feel me when we meet in the sacred space.”
“And just where is this sacred space?” she asked, and there was a breathless quality that made him want to grab her again. “Since most of these women are consenting in their sleep, I assume you take them right in their beds.” She nodded toward her tent. “When you left your pendant on my pillow, you must have seen for yourself that my cot barely sleeps one.”
He gave her a look. “I do not intend to sleep. But no, I did not plan to declare your tent the sacred space.” He glanced around and watched her make the same sweep of the area. Then their gazes suddenly snapped to one another’s, and her smile spread to him.
“I know where,” they both said.
Tallisun nodded. They were in accord. All that remained was to finalize preparation.
***
Harper’s hands were sweating while she worked on her little project, and she kept wiping her palms on the only somewhat clean pants she had left. She had shooed Tallisun away some time ago, saying she needed time to get ready and would meet him later. She had almost laughed at his expression, for his eyebrows had shot high enough to vanish beneath the sweep of his long hair entirely. Maybe it was silly, feeling like she had to make preparations when the other women he visited apparently didn’t even bother to wake up for the event. But this year would be different for him, and it was certainly a banner occasion for her. She wanted to make an effort.
Afternoon was dwindling far too fast, and she tried to work faster. She sat cross-legged in another one of her favorite areas of these woods, in the field where hours of bright sun had coaxed a blanket of delicate purple flowers into bloom. She sat among them in the gently blowing field, weaving together handfuls the way she’d done as a girl, fashioning the blooms into long strands. The sticky green milk from the snapped stems coated her fingers and released a delicious fragrance of spring around her.
Beside her lay a set of items that had taken up the first hour of work, and she wondered whether Tallisun had noticed one of them lying in the corner of her tent. The rabbit hide quilt had been patched together from many hunts over the years. Each camping trip, she caught a rabbit for the next section and then stitched on a pelt from the previous hunt. The quilt was already a sizable testament to her time outdoors, but she had secured more pelts this trip to add in the future. She would not be able to use those now, of course. Drying and working a pelt took time.
At present, the quilt was somewhat smaller than it had been. She had removed some of the pelts to make crude, but soft moccasins inspired by the god of spring himself. Crude was an understatement, especially compared to the craftsmanship of Tallisun’s immortal footwear. His were laced with tallow and adorned with fur. Hers were lined with rabbit fur, but they appeared more like poorly tailored fur sacks that she had tied onto her feet and ankles with thin strips of the same hide. Not as fashionable as she’d hoped for when she’d pictured it in her mind, but she was no seamstress.
The other item she worked on was a skirt fashioned out of the tall reeds near the lake. She wasn’t certain w
hether it was going overboard to wear something so, well, native. But this was a ritual for spring, a celebration of the outdoors. She couldn’t imagine a spring maiden showing up wearing cargo pants and hiking boots.
Birds sang and twittered their opinions while she wove chains of purple blossoms in and out around the waistband of the skirt. More blooms were allowed to hang down along the reeds, each in varied lengths to give a pop of color to the darker green.
Three more strands were braided together, and her ensemble was at last complete.
“There,” she said, groaning a bit when she stood after sitting on the ground so long. She carried everything back in a pile, the quilt on the bottom, and set them in the tent. She washed her hands with some of the water in her plastic jug, getting the stickiness off them, and went to change. Tying on the skirt proved tougher than she’d anticipated, and another hand washing was necessary afterward. She brushed out her hair and then donned her accessories. At last, she was finished. Her heart raced a little when she pulled out her phone and turned on the front camera in order to check the results.
“Huh,” she said to her reflection. “Um, okay.”
Her handmade costume was a bit lackluster. The skirt stuck out a little instead of hanging softly down to her knees, and even worse, her pink underwear was clearly visible and looked ridiculous. She had hoped for a look that was a bit more refined and exotic.
“Not quite native enough,” she declared, and after a moment, she shimmied out of the undies and held the phone at varying angles. She went out of the tent and repeated the process in brighter light, making sure the reeds covered enough of her that it wasn’t horribly obvious that she’d gone commando.
“Mercy me,” she said, noting that the front was, in fact, somewhat barren enough to make a ridiculous show of her pubic hair. Panic set in for a moment, and then she raced inside, grabbed the half a rabbit pelt that had been left over after making the booties and laces, and tucked it into the waistband so it dropped down the front. With the skirt riding a bit lower on her hips, the pelt covered enough, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
In the end, the overall look wasn’t horrible, especially considering she’d had to throw things together on the fly. A crown of braided blooms adorned her hair, wrist, and one ankle. The skirt was a bit itchy, but the style definitely worked with the flower jewelry. The shoes, well, they would win no design awards. Still, mocassins were a much better match than her hiking boots would have been. The only holdout to civilization was her shirt. She’d traded the striped knit for her khaki blouse, which she’d left open enough to see the white bra beneath and tied the ends in a knot beneath her breasts. Maybe she hadn’t succeeded in looking as much like a forest goddess as she’d hoped. Maybe Tallisun would think her attempt to dress more like him made her look ridiculous. But she’d tried, and she should at least get points for effort and acknowledging that a sabbat ritual was a big deal. Especially since she was staying conscious for it.
A little flutter at the base of her throat accompanied the thought. Soon, she would be meeting a prince of the forest for a passionate rendezvous in the great outdoors. What would Tallisun, god of Ostara, be like as a lover? This was a man whose idea of a spring romp involved little foreplay, no doubt, what with the women unable to feel him anyway. But when he kissed her, oh heavens, he certainly seemed to know what he was doing. Her skin actually tingled with the memory of his touch, how his eyes had smoldered while he’d sucked her finger into his mouth and toyed with it until she’d wanted to toy with a digit much lower on his body. His second kiss had been much more out of control, with him growling while he plundered her mouth like the hunter had become the animal. Both kisses had awakened her to desires she hadn’t given much thought to in recent months. He had succeeded in seducing her by large leaps rather than tiny gains.
Shadows in the camp stretched out to one another, trying to touch. Birds were still chittering, a more insistent sound as they called out for others to come home and settle in for the evening. Time to go.
With one final look at her sabbat wear, Harper grabbed the rabbit skin blanket, her shoulder canteen, and her flashlight before making the short trek to where he would be waiting. Or maybe she would get there first. The ground still crunched somewhat beneath her feet, but she made decidedly less noise in the rabbit skin shoes than clomping around the woods in her boots. Perhaps she’d hit on Tallisun’s ninja secrets. There was still plenty enough light to see by without the flashlight, but not for much longer. She’d need the light on the way back.
Her stomach churned with each step. Maybe it would be good if she got there first. She could spread out the rabbit quilt, arrange herself seductively, and be waiting for him when he arrived. That might make an impression. Or was it better to make an entrance?
She had just decided that having time to arrange herself was preferable when she stopped short at the edge of the clearing. Tallisun stood beside the tree stump, which had been adorned with a ring of tiny white blossoms scattered in a circle at the base, using a stick to sprinkle water around the stump from a small wooden bowl. Torches stood at intervals around the clearing, although they were unlit at the moment. He had changed clothes as well, something she hadn’t, but probably should have, expected. His other outfit had added to his air of belonging to another realm, but now, Tallisun looked downright godly. Strands of gold and rubies hung in swags from his antlers. His eyes had been rimmed in black liner, so their golden shimmer was even more pronounced. Gleaming white fabric that she couldn’t quite identify was draped around him like a robe, the bottom flared out behind him like a train and the middle tied with a crimson sash. A leather cord hung from the sash, and suspended from it was some kind of animal horn adorned with silver and gold filigree. The front of his robe was open to the waist, making it obvious that he was shirtless beneath. Through a gap in the lower half, she saw a glimpse of more bare skin—his thigh. Not just shirtless, then. Most likely naked.
She stood there like a gawking fool, with her pulse pounding and her palms sweating enough to make the flashlight slippery. Well hell’s bells, here she’d thought she was arriving in style by dressing in something to reflect the nature of her partner. Instead, he’d gone and totally outclassed her.
“Harper,” he said, and as his eyes took in all of her, she felt a rush of heat mingled with stabs of regret at her idiotic fashion sense.
“Hi,” she said, clutching the rabbit quilt tighter.
“You are...” he began, and then he paused.
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t have anything better for the occasion.”
“I wanted to say you are so incredibly beautiful.” His eyes ran over her again, and the rush of heat turned from humiliation to straight chemistry. “You did all that for me?”
“It’s silly.”
“No.” He shook his head, and the strands dangling around his antlers tinkled. “It is most appropriate.”
She glanced over at the tree stump, imagining what was about to take place on it. When she had brought up the question of where they should come together for this, it took hardly any time at all for the perfect place to strike them both. The clearing had always felt unique and special to her. Now, it felt magical. She stood there staring at the prince of the forest, a god who had shown her the magic, shown her the tree that had once been. She tried to see it again, envisioning the golden molecules and floating light that made up the phantom tree. All she could see was Tallisun, powerful, waiting, a man who was not of this world, and yet who was about to make her more a part of it than she had ever been.
Daylight was fading, and a gray-blue cloak covered the forest. He moved to the torches, lighting each in turn with what appeared to be a mere gesture from his hand. Her legs grew weak as she stepped into the clearing, heading to the center without a word.
Tallisun came forward, the robes trailing behind him as he met her halfway. “What is this?” he asked, pointing to the furs draped over her arm.<
br />
“I thought we could spread it over the stump to make it more comfortable to lie on.”
He ran a hand over it. “Pelt of the rabbit. Again, most appropriate. May I?”
She gave it to him and watched as he laid it over the stump with obvious respect.
“There,” he said. “The altar is complete.” He turned back to her. “I confess I was uncertain what you intended when you asked me to give you time for preparations. This was not at all what I expected.”
“I could say the same about you. I came here trying to dress a little more like nature. You show up looking like a king.”
He smiled. “A king?”
“With kingly robes and jewels on your head.”
He closed the short distance between them. “Then you must be my queen, with the crown of flowers on yours.”
She reached up and touched the circlet. “I figured spring is about flowers, so...”
“Spring is about many things.” He raised her chin. “As we are about to celebrate.”
“What if someone sees?” she whispered.
“No one is here.”
“And your realm? Can they see?”
“There are ways to see into this realm, but they are few. And this is considered a private and sacred moment.”
She flicked a nervous glance at the altar. “If you’re sure.”
“My robes will help conceal us, if that is your wish.”
Harper swallowed as she gazed up at him. They fell silent, staring at one another, and she felt the power build. The energy of the tree surrounded them, curious, seeking to join with the flood of power that flowed between them. Her lips parted, eager for his kiss, and she wondered if they were already doing the ritual now by just connecting this way.
“Harper,” he murmured, and a quiver rippled through her. “You have consented to the god of Ostara to unite in the ritual of spring. You have consented to my touch.”
“Yes,” she whispered, longing for more of that touch than just his fingers lifting her chin toward him.
Tallisun: God of Ostara (Sons of Herne, #3) Page 6
