Tallisun: God of Ostara (Sons of Herne, #3)

by J. Rose Allister

  Just a little closer, she thought to herself. He would get right under her, and she would spring her trap.

  He bent slightly, both in his back and his knees. He didn’t launch straight forward, but his feet side stepped and crossed one another in utter silence. The soft moccasins he wore were a help, she realized, cushioning each step. Her hard boots stomped and snapped every minor twig.

  He made it almost to the tree when he paused and straightened, staring at the stuffed clothing. He ended his attempt at stealth and walked up to her dummy, then bent down to examine it. With his head—and more important, antlers—out of the way, the time was now.

  She dropped onto his back as lightly as she could, but it wasn’t light enough by a long shot. They hit the ground together, her on top of him, and he gave a whoosh of breath and a loud grunt as they went down. She had meant to whoop out her victory warrior style, but instead she cried out in panic until the wind got knocked out of her from her. Then she slid off him and wheezed anemically until the desperate need to suck in a breath passed.

  Tallisun rolled away and laid next to her, flat on his back and groaning a bit. Harper laid there, clutching her stomach, feeling foolish and every bit like the clumsy idiot he thought she was. Jumping on him from a tree? Why had she been so ridiculous to think that would work?

  “You set a trap,” he said after a moment, far more calmly than she could manage. Especially considering the lack of air in her lungs.

  A pause followed while she desperately tried to remedy this. “Yeah,” she managed at last.

  “I am impressed. You have won. Although I will confess, I’d wondered whether the trail you left was deliberate. The tracks were so plain, with no attempt to cover them.”

  She felt a flicker of annoyance. “Yeah, of course. Deliberate. Guess it worked.”

  “I was checking trees up until I saw your garments here and assumed you were still in them.”

  Sucking in air had become such an all-consuming task that she hadn’t realized the way he was staring at her—and why. She was lying sprawled out and naked, after all. Okay, not technically naked, but she might as well be. When hatching her plan to drop in on him, she hadn’t thought of the consequences of doing so in nothing but underwear. And judging by his expression and the sweep of his gaze along her curves, there were about to be consequences for that.

  “Is it too much to hope that your lack of attire means you intend to grant your consent?” he asked, pushing himself to a sit.

  She flashed him a look. “I needed clothes for the decoy,” she said. “That’s all.”

  “Ah.” He rose and extended his hand.

  She pulled herself up with it and folded her arms across her chest, blocking at least some of the view he was being offered. She glanced at her clothes, regretting their current state. It would take a good few washings before they would be suitable for wear.

  “Let’s go,” she said, picking up the pants and shaking them out.

  “Where?”

  “Back to my camp, of course. I need to get dressed in clothes that aren’t stuffed full of forest.”

  She shook the top out as best as she could and draped everything over her arm while they went. Bits of dirt and reeds left a trail behind them. Good thing nobody was tracking her now.

  They were quiet for a time while they pushed through the woods, but even walking near Tallisun made her hyperaware of everything around her. They were close to the camp, but the quickest route was through a close clump of tall brush that would have tangled in his antlers, so they veered off to find a wider passage. Watching him twist and maneuver gave her an even greater respect for his hunting ability—and the ability of stags and other antlered or horned creatures to evade capture with such a disadvantage on their heads. Then again, they could also use said horns and such as weapons if they needed to stand their ground and fight.

  The wider passage took them through one of the landmarks in the area, a clearing where the largest tree in the forest had once stood. A stump was all that remained of a majestic tree, large enough around the base for King Arthur’s knights to hold court. She had camped in this spot numerous times, trying to remember the tree in its former glory, watching year by year as the surrounding area that had once been held back by its limbs gradually reclaimed the territory.

  “Stop a minute,” she said, sitting down on the stump that time had smoothed and worn. “I’ve got a rock in my shoe.

  Tallisun stood over her while she pulled off her shoe and shook it. Two pebbles tumbled out.

  “Magnificent,” he said in awe.

  She looked up to see him staring. “It’s just a hiking boot,” she said, holding up the shoe and waggling it at him.”

  He shook his head. “I meant the tree. There is still power flowing from the roots.” He stepped closer and held a hand over an empty section of the stump.

  “This was my favorite tree as a kid, sort of,” she said, pushing her foot back down inside the boot. “It stretched way up into the sky, so high I couldn’t see the top. The lowest branches were too high for me to climb, though. I always wished I could.”

  He sat beside her, and she felt his warmth press close. “You began your tree climbing feat in these woods?”

  She nodded. “Dad always brought me up here to camp. He’s the one who taught me to hunt. I liked that well enough, but I preferred surveying the world from up in the branches.” She rubbed a hand on the stump. “I always wondered what it would be like to climb this tree. I would stare up and imagine if I ever reached the top I’d be like Jack and the Beanstalk, climbing up to a magical world of castles and sky giants.”

  One corner of his mouth slid up. “My mother used to tell me that story.”

  “Gods have fairy tales?”

  “Indeed. And as many are true, they are as much about learning history as in being entertained.”

  She finished tying her shoe, and they sat for a moment. “I am not surprised you felt drawn to this place,” he went on. “I can feel the current of the earth flowing here as strongly as a river flows after a storm.”

  She inhaled deeply. “I was so upset when I saw in the newspaper that the tree had been cut down. Such a waste.”

  “Why was it taken? It was not diseased. The energy here is still pure.”

  “Some drunk fool came along with a chainsaw to conquer the biggest tree around.” She felt the flush of anger, even now. “The jerk wanted to use it for firewood.”

  “Humans have long since forgotten how to revere nature,” Tallisun said. “They worship consumption and conquest. This is one of the reasons gods no longer walk as freely among your realm as they once did.”

  She glanced at him. “Seems you have a poor opinion of us. But we’re not all like that, you know.”

  “True. And humans are not the only race who preoccupy themselves with the arts of war and acquisition.” He stood again, placing both hands on the stump lightly, as if judging the feel of it. Then he leaned back and stared upward. “Amazing.”

  “What?”

  “I can see the outline,” he said, tracing a finger in the air. “Phantom energy will sometimes linger long after an object of power has moved on. Here, the roots still feed it.”

  She jumped up and stood beside him, mimicking his pose. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Let your eyes drift upward from the stump. Remember the strength of the trunk, the reach of the limbs. Picture where they were. Then move your gaze just along that line.”

  Harper let her mind’s eye take over, conjuring memories of the pebbled bark and gnarled expanse of branches. Then she shook her head. “I don’t see it, not really. It’s just a memory.”

  “Here.” He took her hand in his. “Feel my energy flowing into you? Now follow it through our feet, into the earth and the roots, and up from there.”

  She focused on the warm, tingly feel of contact, and there was a strength in it, a power beyond the chemistry of an attractive man’s touch. The sensation stretched throug
h her, and she did what he asked, following along as their energies connected to the earth and the tree. Her lips parted in a silent “o” when she saw the light. Dust particles danced inside the energy, a faint but perceptible brightening of the sunlight that penetrated the area, pulsing as though alive, marking the spots where the branches and trunk had been.

  “That’s incredible,” she whispered. “I see it.”

  He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

  “Is this what it’s like to be a god? You can see things others can’t?”

  “I am beginning to see things as I have not seen them before.”

  She felt his eyes on her, and after another moment staring at the phantom energy, she met his gaze.

  Tallisun, his hair picked up by a caress of breeze, stole her breath with his expression. The same reverence he paid to the fallen tree was now given her, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. Every angle and line on his physical geometry begged her to take notice, from the exotic slant of his eyes, the faint curve of his lower lip, even to the narrow line of his nose, which flared slightly as if he wanted to sniff her scent. He came closer, obscuring her view of each separate feature, blending them into one overwhelming presence.

  Their lips brushed gently, tenderly, and yet the power unleashed by that wisp of connection sent a charge of electricity through her body far more potent than when he had taken her hand. She heated by several degrees in an instant, feeling herself grow lighter, picturing that she might float up off the ground, held within the power of the former tree and the god whose energies were mingling in dangerous ways with her own. Urgency tingled inside her pores.

  He cradled her face gently, not deepening the kiss by much, but changing everything by sweeping his tongue along her mouth. With a gasp she opened for him, and while she expected him to take full advantage, he kept the contact reserved, almost tentative. When she tried to force the issue, the hands on her jaw pulled her back, taking hold and making her savor the moment, sampling the idea of him.

  He pulled away after several prolonged moments, but the feel of his mouth stayed, unsteadying her feet.

  “Okay,” she said, almost reluctant to spoil the moment with words. “I’ll be part of your spring ritual.”

  ***

  Tallisun hadn’t been able to resist a taste of her lips. She’d looked so beautiful standing there, hand in hand with him while she gazed up and saw the light of the phantom tree. The delicate arch of her neck as she leaned back to see the height had called to him, but he had restrained himself from nibbling the gentle expanse of her throat. His need grew with each passing hour, for the sabbat was upon him. But the tight bulk throbbing in his leggings was not only a reminder of the duty he was required to perform. It urged him to recall he was also a man, and that the woman beside him was lush and ripe and smelled of the woods in which he longed to lose himself. He wanted to lose himself in her.

  Then those words, the consent he’d been hoping for since the moment he’d asked her to join with him, honed the ache in his body. He felt the energy around them, the earth binding their power in much the way he intended to unite their energies in the ritual to come. He could have laid her down on that tree stump right then, the god of spring claiming his maiden, surrounded by the energy in that clearing. He wouldn’t have felt any closer to the magic of Ostara, nor any more consumed by the meaning of the sabbat ritual, than he did in that very moment.

  The revelation startled him, and he found himself staring without a word.

  Her brow lifted. “Don’t freak out with joy or anything,” she said. “Just because I agreed to sleep with you.”

  “No.” He lifted her chin. “You agreed to join with me in a reverence for the awakening of life.” His eyes followed the flowing lines of life force emanating up from the tree. “Much as we just did by surrendering ourselves to the beauty of nature.”

  “How would we do it?” His gaze snapped back to hers, and a throb of pleasure accompanied the sight of her cheeks flushing. “I don’t mean how like that. I mean, what exactly happens in this ritual?”

  He smiled at her. “A sacred space is prepared with spring blossoms and sprinkled with the blessed water of the first spring melt. The consent of the female is confirmed.”

  “Then what?”

  His cock jerked at the prompt, and he took a moment to steady himself before replying. “Then the god of Ostara blesses the woman and joins with her, uttering prayers of thanks and releasing power to allow the bountiful spring to open a path to summer.”

  “Sounds lovely.” Still, she eyed him with a mischievous grin that turned the reverent mood into something different. “Just so we’re clear, this god of Ostara you refer to in third person is you, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why do you have to sleep with a woman just to give thanks? Isn’t the prayer enough?”

  “Every sabbat ritual involves an act of the joining of male to female, acknowledging the power from which life comes forth. And by joining an immortal to a mortal, it unites the realms and demonstrates our separate, yet aligned worlds. Male and female, mortal and immortal. It all works to maintain balance.” His voice quieted. “Beyond that, the energy sent forth by a sexual union is among the most powerful an individual can release, be they god or human. That energy is directed by the will of the sabbat keeper to fuel the turn of the wheel, at least until the next sabbat is at hand. Often longer.”

  “By release of energy you mean, the actual release? Climax?”

  He nodded. “Normally my own.”

  Her brows lifted. “Oh? So you put some poor unsuspecting maiden through all these hoops, get her to agree to your little spring ‘release’ party, and then she doesn’t even get an orgasm?” She folded her arms. “Forget it then. I take back my offer.”

  She started off again, and he followed. “Put her through hoops?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you know. You make her pass your test and then she doesn’t get to enjoy the prize.”

  “It doesn’t quite happen that way. The women are selected based on criteria the Counsel sets forth.”

  They broke through the woods and wound up back at her camp.

  “What sort of criteria?” she asked, heading for her tent. “Stay here and tell me while I get dressed in my tent.”

  “Why in the tent? I’ve already seen most of you.”

  Lucky for him. When she’d first dropped down from the tree, and he’d rolled aside and seen her lying on her back in the dirt, he wanted to start the ritual right then.

  “Is a girl’s figure part of the test? Did I pass?”

  More than passed. Her body was most pleasing, to be sure. Breasts that swelled out nicely from the thin fabric of her bra, a narrow waist that flared out to hips he longed to grab hold of while he entered her, and smooth, tender thighs that curved in the right places.

  “The beauty of the maiden is not a factor,” he said. “But I am certainly not about to argue the point.”

  “I do believe that’s a compliment.”

  He smiled. “So is my offer for you to put your clothing on out here.”

  “Nice try.” She dropped her dirty garments outside and went in.

  “So about this criteria?” she called out.

  He stood just outside the tent flap. “The Counsel looks for women of bearing ago who are unwed, free of ailments, and strong in constitution. And she must have a subconscious that is prominent and uncluttered enough to engage with, so that they may give proper consent. Some human’s thoughts are so consumed that even in sleep, even subconsciously, their minds race too much to penetrate.”

  He heard rustling and tried to picture what she was doing.

  “The Counsel looks for these girls? Don’t you pick them out?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Ew.”

  “What?”

  “You have to have sex with some random woman the Counsel selects? What if you don’t like her?”

  That brought a smile to him. �
��My pleasure in the choice is not the point.”

  “I thought your pleasure was exactly the point. The only point, apparently.”

  She emerged from the tent wearing a pair of brown pants and a striped pink and white t-shirt. The stripes circling her torso seemed to enhance the size of her breasts even more.

  “You are worried that I will take my pleasure and leave you unsatisfied,” he said.

  Her cheeks grew red. “Worried isn’t the right word. More like deal-breaker.”

  He chuckled while he drew near, inhaling her scent. He picked up the aroma of fresh tree sap as well as a woodsy smell, tinged with a smoky air that was acrid but blended well with the rest. She smelled of the place he most liked to venture into, something he found a most fitting notion at the moment.

  “I give you this promise,” he said, meeting her eyes. “You and I shall have our pleasure together, and I shall not release my energy until I am certain you have set free your own.”

  “You won’t,” she said, sounding skeptical.

  His cock was pounding now, and while he most definitely did not wish to rob his partner of her moment, he hoped he was making a promise he could keep. “I will not.”

  She sniffed. “All right, then.” After a pause, her eyes narrowed. “You really don’t pick the women?”

  He shook his head. “Not since near the beginning of my time as sabbat keeper.”

  “But you chose me.” She looked up at him with such innocence, her long lashes up against her brow, her blue eyes bright. “Why?”

  His heart gave a small hiccup. “Perhaps it was time for a change. It is the year of the Thousand Seasons, the end of an era. Doing things differently is, I suppose, a fitting way to commemorate it.” Maybe even more so than bagging a hunter’s kill, as he had initially planned.

  “Will the Counsel allow it?”

  “I am the god of the sabbat. I have the right to choose the one I approach for consent. I just do not ordinarily desire to do so.”

  “That’s sad.”

  He eyed her. “Why?”