TALLISUN: GOD OF OSTARA
SONS OF HERNE 3
J. ROSE ALLISTER
 

Stealth and might, awareness and respect. These were the qualities a good hunter needed to stalk the wise forests, and Tallisun drew on them all while he crept among the trees. He paused with his palm against the rough bark of a slumbering oak, scenting the air, listening to the sounds of the wild woods.

The “wild” woods where he stood were, perhaps, not as wild as he would like. Far away in the eighth realm, his father was leading a merry chase through the endless woods that had earned their renown. But Tallisun, son of Herne, god of the sabbat, and master of the bow had been refused the chance to attend the Hunt of the Three Horns, arguably the largest in the series of hunts commemorating the year-long celebration of the Thousand Seasons. The insult stung, much like the narrow branch that whipped his face when he turned his head to duck through the dense forest. Making passage at present was no easy task, considering his antlers were at full size. Avoiding snagging himself among the trees was not his focus, however. His eyes darted every which way, seeking an outlet for the anger burning inside him.

“Surely you do not mean to attend a hunt that will take you out of the realm when you have a ritual to prepare for?” his father had asked when Tallisun had been foolish enough to presume he would be taking part.

“Of all your sons, I am the only one who should be attending,” Tallisun said. “I alone have followed the footsteps of the great hunter.”

“A bit overstated,” his father had said. “You are a skillful archer, true. But a great hunter knows when the call of his prey does not come from the forest, but from the duties he must attend outside of the hunt.”

Back in the mortal forest, another deep breath brought the sweet smell of awakening to his nostrils. He closed his eyes, giving in for a moment to the pull of the nearing sabbat. The forest had stirred from the slumber of winter, and along with it, Tallisun felt a stirring in his loins. Duties outside of the hunt, in his case, meant the duty of a sabbat god. He must find himself a female before the sun set on the sabbat and unite with her in a wild frenzy. He would fuck her in earnest, as untamed as the animals he put in front of his arrows, and not just to douse the rising, unavoidable surge of lust. He had to fulfill the ritual of Ostara, a sacred rite to acknowledge the burst of spring as all life gathered strength to fuel the coming summer. He would neither know the woman, nor would he even select her himself. The one who would become his ritual partner was chosen by the Counsel of Sabbats—had already been chosen, no doubt—based on criteria that rendered her suitable for the rite, not for his preference.

In fairness, he had long ago opted out of directing the selection process. There seemed little point when the woman would give her consent to a mere specter, a god who would come to her, then come in her, and then take his leave. When he was phased between realms using the power of the pendant, he would neither be seen nor felt, as absent in ritual intercourse as he felt in other times of his life.

The heat of the sun had coaxed to life many smells in the woods, enticing scents wafting on a warm breeze. The aromas and sounds, right down to the gentle rustle of budding leaves, conspired to harden the bulk between his thighs. The wind teased at his hair, pushing the long threads of gold back over his shoulders the way he might do to a woman whose bare neck he wished to explore with his lips. He shook off the distraction to focus on the task at hand. Ostara was not, in his opinion, the time to celebrate the wet heat of a woman’s pussy. It was a time when the hunter celebrated a forest full of new life—by claiming a trophy and fortifying his body with the strength of seared meat.

Even now, the day was waning, but not his desire to avoid the “calling”. Whether or not his father had allowed him at the Three Horns festivities, Tallisun would observe the hunt on his own, hopefully with a kill that would rival that of the great Herne’s. Perhaps that achievement might sate the need rising inside him. Perhaps his bow and arrow could distract him from the need to find relief inside the wet heat of a woman, for no other reason than duty demanded it.

Hunter and prey warred inside of him, one struggling to survive, the other determined to conquer. What had it been like to drive his cock into a woman for the sheer pleasure of desiring her tender flesh, her warm embrace, the joyous sound of her moans and the reward of a contented smile when he had satisfied her? Too much time had passed to recall. He had become his father’s stud pony, performing on command at the whim of the sabbat. Even now, Ostara beckoned, sliding over the spring grasses like a snake. But he would retain control of his body—and his will—for as long as he could. He would resist the need building inside of him until he had gotten what he had come for.

The hunt drew his attention once more, and he realized that he had an unfair advantage. His fingers slid to the pendant around his neck, finding the gem that vibrated on a frequency unique to all others. The stone, forged with the energies of the veil between worlds, kept him hidden in this realm, just enough out of phase that he could be heard, perhaps even smelled, but not seen. A definite advantage for a hunter, but not one he wished to exploit if he wanted a true test of his skills. Such also lacked respect for the prey who must be allowed a fair chance to see what lurked in the shadows.

Tallisun tugged the pendant from his neck and slid it into his pocket. His experience of the earth realm heightened only slightly with him in phase, but the realm would now be fully aware of him. Prey would be scarce at this hour of the day, but he knew the most likely spot to encounter some. He made his way to the lake, crouching behind brush that gave him a vantage point to observe the watering spot. An erection throbbed in his leggings, dividing his attention in as many directions as the forks on his head. He bit the inside of his cheek and kept his eyes on the water. He was growing quite late for his appointment with the sabbat, but he would not engage that task until he had fulfilled this one.

Minutes stretched by while he waited, motionless, willing the arrival of a worthy prize. Patience had been a hard won victory for Tallisun ever since boyhood. He had been taken on hunts by his father when his goddess mother had been too preoccupied with lovers, both male and female, to care for her son. Many aspects of the hunt had appealed to him, but the most important—the ability to maintain patience while awaiting the proper moment to strike—had proven a most difficult foe to conquer. The very notion of remaining still had filled him with dread, and his juvenile attempts had made his body quiver with unspent energy until he exploded in motion like a geyser. He had believed that if he stopped moving, that lack of action would rob him of control, a reason for being. Now, he knew that a steadfast pursuit of stillness was a true mark of discipline, proof that control of his faculties belonged to him.

Shadows lengthened, shifting the perspective of the woods and turning sections of the lake to liquid ink, and still there was no sign of his quarry. His need would yet be slaked, for some must come to the water soon, indulging one final drink before retreating to wait out the night.

The stillness took on an urgency, a deliberate calm that he recognized. The projection of quiet was not the same thing as actual lack of motion.

Something was coming.

His eyes searched the line of trees ringing the lake, and at last, he saw the brief flicker of movement. The animal took one step and froze, perfect in its discipline, near unfailing in its caution. Large, wise brown eyes scanned the tree line. A soft, dark nose quivered while it sampled the air for wafts of danger, but Tallisun was downwind so as not to be detected. The creature was a stag, magnificent and powerful, with a wide chest narrowing to slender legs. One leg was bent and poised off the ground, like a statue captured mid step, while the animal decided his fortune.

Three beats, then four, Tallisun waited while the stag almost echoed his own experience. A mirror image of himself, though the stag had only recently sprouted the small, velvety forks of new spring antlers. Tallisun’s had matured until they weighed down both his head and his consciousness. The god’s time for mating was upon him already, whereas the stag’s antlers would continue to grow until the autumn ruts, when his time came to lock horns, as it were, for the right to mate and bring forth a new crop of fawns the following spring. Yet another creature whose urges were dictated by the wheel of the year, his cock’s worth to the universe measured by a spread of antlers that would be shed when his purpose had been served. Indeed, by the time the sun had finished setting on Ostara, Tallisun’s rack would be shed and mounted in his sabbat chamber in the Counsel of Sabbats. Which was where he should be now. Assistants were no doubt whispering together, possibly already informing the counselors that the god of Ostara was missing on the eve of his sabbat.

The thought of wide-eyed acolytes racing about in a panic brought a slow smile to his lips. His mother was a trickster goddess, and while little of her had been bestowed upon him aside from white-gold hair and a knack for flouting the norm, he did appreciate a bit of fun here and there. The occasional practical joke eased the monotonous routine of a sabbat god.

One step, then another, and the stag came forth from the trees. His long, graceful neck swiveled as he looked this way and that, and Tallisun’s breath stilled as he watched the creature, king of the forest, make a most royal descent down the sloping shore of the lake. Matching the animal’s slow, sleek motion, he reached for the bow he had propped against a tree. The stag paused at the water’s edge, the heart-shaped swell of powerful back legs poised and ready to spring at the slightest disturbance. Tallisun silently pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back while the stag took one final measure of his surroundings.

The arrow slid into the nock of the bow with practiced ease, but Tallisun did not lift his weapon until the stag bent down to nuzzle the surface of the water. The hunter hoisted the bow, took in a breath, and lined up the shot. His stance was perfection, his draw steady, and his aim true. Relaxing his muscles, he exhaled and prepared to send fate in search of its target.

A crash through the trees barely had time to herald a disruption, and he had already begun releasing the bowstring when a woman burst through the woods and stopped right in his sights. He sucked in a breath and jerked the bow upward at the last second, sending the shot wide and up into the trees. The stag, as startled as Tallisun, bolted back into the forest, and the hunter’s steady heart exploded into a frenzy. Alternating surges of fear and anger shot through his veins as he glared at the intruder.

That it had been a woman who had stopped short at the sight of the deer had been obvious in a millisecond. Flirty layers of dark hair spilled playfully from a high ponytail that swung when she walked, as did the flare of feminine hips encased in a shape-hugging pair of jeans. Now aware that she’d disturbed at least one creature’s habits, she glanced around belatedly before walking to the water’s edge. Tallisun clenched his jaw while he watched her sauntering motion, the careless swing of slender limbs as she moved. She apparently had no sense of being observed, no clue that he had almost sent an arrow through her heart. She must not have heard the missed shot that had gone sailing into an oak branch. No hunter’s instincts, that was for sure. Yet she was out in the woods alone, traipsing along as though she owned the lands and everything on them.

He set the bow aside and folded his arms, stuffing his fists beneath his armpits while she uncapped a clear jug and filled it from the lake. She had no idea her thoughtless traipsing about had cost him the hunt—and nearly her own life along with it. How freeing it must be to stumble through existence, unaware that one’s actions bore consequences to those around them. No doubt she had never been given the lectures about sacred duty, how the fate of worlds hung in a delicate balance that must be maintained by the will of the gods. Humans had long ago abandoned the cause of caring for the earth and the magic that could help preserve it.

She set the jug down and bent lower, scrubbing her hands in the water. She bent from the waist, giving him quite a view of her ass in the process. She straightened and turned, grabbing the jug on the way, and he got his first look at her full on. The cascade of brown hair tied back behind her had fallen forward when she’d bent at the lake, and now it rested over one shoulder to brush one of the generous breasts straining the bounds of her clingy top. Her eyes matched the spring green of the shirt’s fabric, bright and possessed of an alertness that seemed impossible considering the way she’d blundered onto the scene moments before. They were like doe’s eyes, delicately curved, sensual, with long lashes and a twinkle that he hadn’t expected. Her nose was slender, with a light dusting of freckles and a gentle upturn at the base that gave her expression a turn of mischief. Her waist dipped in seductively, and at her belt, he was surprised to note a knife tucked inside a leather sheath.

Her breasts jiggled invitingly as she headed back to the woods, humming a lilting tune to herself before disappearing between a pair of large trees. Tallisun stood there, starting after her, knowing that his mission had failed. He had not succeeded in procuring the meat he wanted to sink into before he was relegated to sinking into something softer. Moments passed, each one nagging at him to cross through the veil and fulfill his obligation. He should leave now, return to the Counsel of Sabbats, and prepare for the ritual of spring.

He took hold of his bow, slung it on his back, and ducked quietly through the trees in the direction the female had gone.

***

Harper plunked down the plastic water jug beside her and rubbed her hands on her jeans. Camping close to the water had made matters easier when it came time to refill her supply, but she’d been so focused on the task that she’d scared off a deer that could have been a more dangerous animal. Perhaps that was unlikely at this hour of the day, but the sight of the beautiful stag had frozen her in place and sent her heart into her throat. It had bolted before she’d gotten a good look, which was a shame. She wouldn’t have harmed it, not a creature that big. The game she hunted was a fair sight smaller, like the rabbits hanging from a tree nearby.

She untied her catch with a satisfied smile. Squatting down, she pulled out her skinning knife and made quick work of both rabbits, one for dinner, the other to attempt a rabbit jerky. Then again, the pair was lean without much in the way of meat, and she was ravenous. Fresh air and exercise did that to her. Maybe both were destined to hit the plate for supper.

She changed knives to butcher the meat, reserving the feet she had left intact.

“For luck,” she said aloud, setting them aside.

The late chatter of birds eager to finish their conversations trilled in the trees, a pleasant sound along with the quiver of leaves that were no doubt happy to shrug off what had been an interesting winter. Storms had roiled early on, heralding what many thought would be an apocalyptic, even dangerous, season. Suddenly, the winter had gone mild and whispered its way into spring.

The occasional shuffle of playful squirrels kept Harper company while she worked. Some people preferred to camp with the comforts and distractions of home, firing up radios or televisions, perhaps blocking out the sounds of nature with headphones. But this was all the music she needed to feel right at home.

“Isn’t that right, Dad?” she asked aloud, her quiet smile fading slowly. On his visitation weekends, while other girls in town were getting their nails done and planning outfits to attract boys, her father was teaching her to hunt and track. He had not been a talkative man, nor a particularly demonstrative one. Camping and hunting was how he communicated, and luckily, she had gotten the message that he loved her before he died.

By the time she got her meat prepared, the afternoon was slipping away. Her knees and back ached from her cave woman posture. There was an unpleasant stickiness on her hands, and when she used the back of a forearm to brush an escaped strand of hair from her eyes, she made a face.

“You’ve smelled better,” she announced.

She glanced upward. Trees stretched toward the sky in a more or less perfect circle around her, leaving enough room for her small campsite and a decent view of the sky, which was a requirement for those who liked to sleep under the stars. Or in her case, sleep under a small tent with a ceiling flap that gave her a skylight view.

The sky still held a tinge of afternoon blue, but the brilliant shade was rapidly dulling to the flat, deep shade of twilight. She rose, her knees protesting the effort, and stiffly grabbed the water jug to give her hands a cursory rinse. Inside her tent, she rummaged for a change of clothing and a towel before heading back to the lake.

The earth was still when she approached the water, and a tingling at the back of her neck made her turn around. Nothing was there. She was just feeling paranoid about being discovered, unlikely though that was. She rarely saw anyone up here. Still, she spent a good minute scanning the area, still feeling that tingling, but finding nothing to explain the sensation of being watched. She peeled off her clothes and tiptoed to the water, clenching her jaw when she dipped her foot in.

Spring had sprung, but the evidence of a winter that had begun harshly was evident in the chill of the water. Summer camping was better for swimming, but this dip was more of a survival mission. If she didn’t wash the blood and sweat off herself, she might not live through an entire night sharing a tent with the ripe aroma.

Holding her breath, she waded in, feeling the cold bite into her skin. She didn’t duck her head under, but the rest of her got a quick submersion up to the shoulder. She stood facing the bank, scrubbing harder in some places than others, while she kept an eye on her surroundings. The feeling of a presence was still there, of some woodland something or other watching her. She turned in a slow circle, her eyes tracing a line around the lake. Nothing was there.

A small rustle turned her back around, but it was just a small twig falling into the water. Why was she being so paranoid? She’d camped alone plenty of times before. The only times she thought she was being watched was at night, around the campfire, when she smiled up at the stars and imagined her dad smiling back down. Nonetheless, she cut the bath short.

“That’s clean enough, I think,” she said, wading out of the water. She reached for the towel she’d hooked over the now-empty branch and frowned. The towel was missing.

“What the hell?”

Where had it gone? For that matter, where were the clothes she’d draped over the same branch? She searched the ground and the area around her, but there was no sign of her things.

Shivering, water drops flicking every which way and her feet growing dirty all over again, she raced back to camp. Ducking inside the tent, she grabbed a blanket to dry herself with. She was halfway into pulling on a spare pair of jeans when the soft snap of a twig outside stopped her short.

That feeling of being observed hadn’t been paranoia after all.

She yanked clothes on faster, wishing for the reassuring weight of the knife that had been sheathed on the belt that was also missing. She had other knives, however. Outside.

Harper stood for a moment, wondering whether she really wanted to leave the tent. Just because she’d never encountered anyone in this part of the forest before didn’t mean she wasn’t vulnerable. All her weapons were out there, and someone could be helping themselves to them right at that moment. Damn it. Why hadn’t she kept something inside the tent?

She stood there, frozen, listening for any more sounds to feed the rising panic. Meanwhile, her eyes darted around the dim light of the tent, searching for something she could use to defend herself.

Her eyes landed on something, and she made a silent grab for it. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t stand here all night, too afraid to venture out. In any case, she wasn’t truly safer inside a thin nylon tent than she would be by stepping out of it.

“Whatever you’re doing out there, stop it right now,” she called out, wishing she could stop shaking. She hefted the weight of the flashlight in her hand. “I’m armed.”

She stopped and listened again, feeling foolish. Maybe an animal had run off with her clothes, lining a den for its young. She breathed a sigh. Yes, that had to be it.

To her horror, she heard a man’s deep voice in reply. “Fair enough,” he said, and her mouth fell open. “I surrender.”

***

Tallisun waited, wondering what manner of weapon the woman had trained on him and whether she could unleash it before even setting foot out of the tent. Perhaps it would be wise to declare his intentions before he earned an arrow or bullet for his efforts. He set her garments on an old canvas folding stool and paused beside a ring of stones surrounding a campfire that had not yet been stoked for the night.

The whim to steal her clothing had been foolhardy, truly. He had been possessed of a touch of his mother’s spirit, no doubt, when the trickster in him had grabbed the pile and ducked into the woods to watch her reaction. Why the blazes had he done it? He’d been curious when he first followed her back to her camp, and admittedly impressed when he’d watched her skin a pair of conies with skillful, and yet delicate, hands. What had truly thrown him was when he’d trailed her back to the water, where she’d pulled off her garments before he could blink.

Perhaps he was a god who normally visited the earth while invisible to its inhabitants, but spying on bathing women wasn’t his style. He hadn’t meant to keep staring when she’d spun around, gloriously naked and displaying every inch of bare flesh to him, but how could he tear his eyes away from such perfection? The swollen rounds of her breasts, creamy and inviting, had bobbed so seductively, glistening in the water and lifting slightly when she raised her arms. Then came the pear-shaped beauty where her waist flared out to the sweet temptation of her bare ass. And there was the triangle of dark curls pointing the way to a place his cock was destined to explore on a woman before the sun set on Ostara.

Beautiful or no, she had distracted him from the hunt and cost him his kill. Not to mention he’d suffered the horror of nearly killing a woman. So he’d had a sudden and irresistible urge to exact a bit of payback for her intrusion.

She had sensed him there, when she had been bathing in the lake. He could see it in the nervous flick of her gaze and constant tossing of glances over her shoulder. She knew, even though he had tied the veil pendant back on to hide himself, that something was amiss. Perhaps she had a hunter’s instincts after all. And now she knew he was in her camp, and her fear was evident in the quiver of her voice. She assumed he had something far more sinister in mind than returning the items he shouldn’t have taken in the first place.

He needn’t have replied when she’d called out. He still had the pendant on, and even if she emerged from hiding, he would make a most difficult target while invisible. He could have just returned her items and gone. Still, guilt nagged at him not just for the claiming of her garments, but the expression on her face when she had realized they were gone. He had laughed to himself when he first squirreled her clothing away, but she had appeared genuinely frightened, and for good reason. He had not seen any other humans out here, which was why he chose the spot for his own sport. No doubt she felt very much exposed, and not because she had been naked. The hunter had become the hunted. If he did not confess, explain his crime, she would spend the rest of the night—if she remained at all—in fear for her life. While perhaps a few moments of reflection might be deserved after stumbling carelessly in front of his arrow, a night of ongoing terror was something else entirely.

With a sigh, he removed the pendant once again. Revealing himself to a human, one who was conscious and able to see him, was not generally done. Still, he knew no other way to assure her the woods were not full of men who meant her ill.

Before he could speak another word, the flap of the tent was shoved back, and she emerged, wide-eyed and gaping. The weapon she’d declared was a long, heavy-looking flashlight, an item he knew from times spent in woods where humans sometimes tread. It was not dangerous, so far as he knew, but it might hurt if she managed to strike. She would never get close enough, though. Either way, she was no match for his bow nor any of the knives that lay within his quick reach.

She tried to speak, swallowed, and shook her head. He watched as she took in every inch of him, lingering on the tribal tattoo curving from one shoulder around his bicep and up over half of his bare chest. Dark eyes dipped down as she checked out his leggings and moccasins, and he hoped she didn’t noticed the twitch when that gaze had dared sweep over his groin for a brief, but agonizing moment.

“What the hell,” she murmured, her gaze landing on the most conspicuous part of him after touring the rest. He did not dress in the vogue of humans, and his golden brown eyes, much like his father’s, did not pass as entirely normal in this realm. But the rack of antlers jutting out from his head decreed quite prominently that he was had no place there, at least none outside the duty for which he was running late to attend.

“What kind of costume is that?” she asked, taking another quick sweep before returning to his head.

“Costume?”

“Are those attached to some kind of headband?” She tilted her head a bit, changing the angle of her view.

“They are not.”

“Well, they’re obviously fake. They have to be attached somehow.”

He gave a short laugh and considered going along with her. But no. He couldn’t pass for human with or without antlers. “I can assure you that they are quite real.”

For one more night, at least. After he mated with the spring maiden, they would come loose and shed. A new set would begin growing within a month.

“I wanted to apologize for my little joke,” he went on, nodding to the garments he had laid aside. “I realize it was poorly timed and has caused you distress.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You were spying on me naked.” She lifted the flashlight as she spoke, pointing it at him in accusation.

“Not on purpose. It was only my intention to follow you. I had no idea you were about to take off your garments.”

Her pouty lips twisted into a frown. “So you accidentally saw me naked because you were stalking me?”

“Yes. No,” he corrected when he saw her expression. He chuffed out a breath. “I wouldn’t have been following you at all if you hadn’t almost gotten yourself killed.”

The eyes popped wide. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier, by the lake, you came out of nowhere and scared off a stag. Remember?”

She nodded. “So?”

“I had that animal in my sights. You almost took an arrow because you got between my prey and my bow. You didn’t hear it hit a tree branch went I sent it wide at the last minute?”

The implication sunk in, judging by the way her mouth fell open. “No.” She eyed him. “So am I supposed to thank you for not shooting me? Or did you follow me for some other reason?”

“Following you was an impulse. I was curious.” He lifted his chin. “And I was a bit annoyed about you chasing off my kill, so I confess I found hiding your clothes an amusing idea at the time. I thought it might make us even.”

She folded her arms, the flashlight still clutched tight in one hand. “Since you scared the hell out of me, I’d say we’re more than even.” She stared at his face. “Are those contacts?”

“What?”

“Your eyes. They’re sort of a golden color.”

“Yes, I know. I have seen them before.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who are you?”

“My name is Tallisun.”

“That’s quite a name. I’m Harper.”

He flashed a grin, and she scowled. “What’s so funny about my name, Tallisun?”

“Where I am from, there are tales of harpies who look like women from the waist up, except they have wings and the talons of birds of prey.”

“My name is Harper, not harpy. And where I’m from, grown men don’t run around wearing antlers and stealing women’s clothes.” She narrowed her gaze. “Just where are you from, anyway?”

“Nearer than most humans think.”

“Most humans? Funny how you make that sound like you’re not one of them.”

“Pull on my antlers.”

That earned him a scornful laugh. “Like I’ve never heard a man drop that line before.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “You have met men with antlers before?”

“Not quite, but I know your type.”

Now it was his turn to fold his arms. “Do you indeed? By all means, enlighten me. What is my ‘type’?”

“You’re gorgeous and built, so you obviously take care of yourself to impress women. And you think you can steal my clothes, smile that ‘I’m-a-hunk’ smile, and I’ll fall all over you. Hell, women probably fall all over each other trying to pull on your horns.”

The smile that apparently irritated her grew wider with each word. “Though I am considered a horned god, they are technically more akin to antlers than horns.”

“I’m not so sure. I’d say you have a bit of devil in you.”

“You paint quite a picture of me. I am not certain I can live up to it.”

“Don’t bother trying. I’m not your average woman.”

“That you most certainly are not.”

Their eyes connected, and they stood that way, staring at one another, long enough for his pulse to quicken. No, Harper was not like other women. She was a hunter, a beauty, and possessed of a rather amusing wit. If he could, she would be the perfect choice to join him in bringing forth the rites of spring. And he would do it with her fully aware of him every step of the way.

His heart wobbled at that. Why couldn’t he? There was no law saying he couldn’t choose the spring maiden. He had simply never had an interest. But how to present his cause? He normally had only to speak to the females long enough to obtain consent for the act of ritual joining—and that was often done with them half asleep. On occasion, he had to ask two or even three women before getting their consent. But once he had it, they were unaware of his actions.

“I have a proposal,” he heard himself say, and he winced at the words. He could hope for a persuasive and compelling speech, but he had the feeling he wasn’t going to get his wish so readily.

***

Harper listened to the 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. He could have taken advantage of her when she’d been naked in the lake. Or he could have barged right into her tent and overpowered her. Her head only came up to his chin, and those muscles, well, there was no question who would win in a struggle. 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 antlers.”

“We went through that already.”

“I will make you see that I’m telling the truth.” He reached up and pulled them 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 are you doing this?”

She dug through his golden hair, leaning closer, inspecting the area where the horns, antlers, whatever sat on his head. No, where they stuck out from his head. His scalp grew up over the first section of antler, 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. She smelled of campfire smoke and dust, despite her impromptu—and apparently not private—bath.

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. “You had them implanted surgically. Why?”

“Not implanted. They grow this way naturally.” He pushed back the hair she had mussed while digging through the strands like a wild ape on a search for bugs. “Though if you were to pull on them like that tomorrow, after the ritual, they would come right off in your hands.”

She nodded. “So they aren’t real, after all.”

“They shed annually, just like the stag you saw by the lake. But they will begin growing back soon after.” He smiled. “So, have I proven myself?”

She shook her head. “You haven’t proven anything other than you have a really good plastic surgeon and probably a lot of money.”

“There is one other way.” He slipped a hand into the pocket of his pants, which couldn’t have been easy, considering how snug they were. He withdrew a long, scaly-looking object.

She jumped back. “Is that a snake?” Snakes were not her favorite thing in all the world.

“It is a pendant. The cord it is strung on resembles a serpent.”

She looked closer. There was a cord, thick and black, engraved with a scale pattern. The head and tail met at the base, and dangling between was a peculiar gemstone. Or was it? She blinked, staring harder. The bluish-white stone seemed to pulse, blurring in and out of focus. It wasn’t her eyes, for everything else in her visual range stayed clear. But the gem...there was something unusual about it. Something not right.

“This is a veil pendant,” he said, holding it up high so the gem hung within her eye line. “The crystal is unique, and not of this realm. Not exactly.”

“Why does it seem...alive? It looks like it’s lit up and moving on the inside.”

“The gem was fashioned from a piece of the veil that divides our worlds. Such crystals are rare and quite useful. They pulse at their own frequency, out of phase from this realm as well as the next. This is how I can travel between our worlds.” He paused. “And with it, I can walk in your realm without being seen.”

He secured the pendant around his neck, waited until she met his eyes, and then grabbed hold of the stone with his bare hand. He winked out of existence.

Her shriek was ragged and almost made her choke. “Tallisun?”

“I am still here,” she heard, but the voice was not in front of her. She felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around to find nothing but empty air. Then he reappeared, and she jerked back.

“How did you do that?” she asked. “Some kind of light-bending science? I’ve heard of cloaking suits that the government apparently invented.”

“Let me show you something else.” He held out his hand. “Come, press yourself against me.”

She fisted her hips. “Is this another ‘tug my horns’ thing?” The hoarse rattle gave away her discomfiture, and she cleared her throat.

“I can show you the world,” he said. “But we must be in close enough contact.”

“Show me the world?” she asked with a snort. “Okay, Aladdin. Get out the magic carpet.”

She moved closer, not quite prepared for him to slide a hand around her waist and pull her against him. She let out a gasp as she collided against the hottest body she’d encountered up close, and not just from a temperature viewpoint. He fiddled with the pendant, lengthening the cord, and after draping it over her head as well, he put his arm back around her.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Not remotely.”

He took hold of the pendant gem, and suddenly, the world shifted around her. She was no longer standing in the woods, hugged against the bare torso of a warm, muscular man. She was still tight against him, but they were standing in a bright room devoid of anything except gleaming white marble and elaborately carved, arched doorways in several places around the room. The ceiling was high, at least two stories, domed and lit from an unseen source around the inner ring. In the midst of the arches, swirling energies pulsed and shimmered, not like a mirror, but more like an upright sheet of water mingled with the stars of the Milky Way. The effect was much like that of gem lying against his chest, only thousands of times bigger.

“Where are we?” she whispered, and the alarm in her tone echoed through the space.

He put a finger to his lips and then bent to her ear. “We cannot be seen,” he murmured low, and her stomach tensed. “But we can be heard.”

After another moment, he closed his eyes, took hold of the pendant again, and the room vanished. They were back at her campsite.

He removed the cord from her and she slid away from him, staggering under a sudden wave of dizziness.

“You may feel off balance for a few moments,” he said. “The effects of phasing rapidly between realms are more pronounced in humans.”

She seriously challenged the idea that she would feel off balance for mere moments. She’d been shaken enough to tilt her equilibrium permanently.

“Where were we just now?” she asked, doubting what she’d just seen.

“A portal room in the Counsel of Sabbats,” he said.

“Why didn’t you want anyone to hear us?”

He shrugged. “I was expected back there some time earlier. I didn’t want to get waylaid and have to explain your presence as well. Humans from the earth realm are not exactly frequent visitors to the Counsel of Sabbats.”

She stepped forward, still wobbling, and reached for the pendant. “I want to see it again. I promise I’ll be quiet.”

He shook his head. “The point was for you to trust that I am telling the truth, and I can see that you believe me now.” He straightened his posture, raising himself another inch to his full height. “I am Tallisun, son of Herne. I am the god of Ostara, keeper of the pagan sabbat.”

His gaze fastened to hers, and her racing heart joined forces with her light-headedness until the world spun around her. He was a god—a pagan god. She’d never given much thought to old world beliefs, nor to the fact that such beings actually might exist. But here he was, tall and mighty, with powerful antlers and eyes that had apparently not come from the Halloween collection of cosmetic lens wear.

“I would choose you as my spring maiden, she who will partner with me for the ritual of renewal,” he went on. “Grant me your consent, Harper. Before the sun sets on tomorrow’s sabbat, we will celebrate a union of male and female.”

She stiffened, and blinking proved harder considering her eyes had flown open so wide. “What kind of union between male and female?” she asked, though she already knew.

There was that smile again, the one he undoubtedly used to sway all sorts of spring maidens into celebrating the wonders of uniting with a male.

“I’m no maiden,” she said, wondering why she was considering this.

“Purity is not a requirement for this sabbat,” he said, and the smolder in his eyes burned hotter. “The title is merely an honorary one.”

“You’ve done this a lot, I take it? Celebrated with spring maidens, I mean.” Not that it should matter. She wasn’t really going to take him up on it. Besides, as she’d just confessed, she wasn’t exactly the Mother Mary herself. Although, how long had it been since her last “ritual” with a guy? Six months?

“The choice of partners has not been my own for many generations,” he said. “The sabbat maidens are normally selected for me by the Counsel.”

Generations.

“How old are you?” she asked.

That won her a grin that restarted the sense of disorientation that had barely begun to settle. “Do you fear that I am too young for a spring mating, or too old?”

Mating. There it was, plain English from a man whose style of speech was something less than modern.

Words dried on her tongue.

“I can assure you I am quite in my prime.” He tilted his head. “And quite curious to experience a sabbat joining with a woman who would be fully appreciative of it.”

Oh, she was appreciative of him, all right. Including the six-pack abs and the powerful legs.

She shook her head.

“You have no interest in my offer?” Doubt lay thick on his words. “Or perhaps you merely wish me to prove myself worthy.”

She held up a hand. “I don’t need a demonstration or a measuring tape to make that judgment.”

“Then let us engage in a contest more fitting to earn the respect of a hunter.”

“You plan to show me your hunting skill?” She nodded to the rabbit meat nearby. “I’ve already brought home my supper.”

“And what if the prey is a lovely maiden who is not yet certain she wants to be caught?”

She wasn’t certain of that, no—nor was she sure she liked the sound of his suggestion. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“I will hunt for you, and you will evade. If I succeed in catching you, you will grant me your consent.”

“And if you don’t succeed?”

He pursed his lips. “If you manage to evade me, doubtful though that may be, you are free to rebuff my offer.”

“I’m free to do that anyway without agreeing to be chased around the woods first.”

He nodded. “True. But this would be much more entertaining.”

There was that. A god wanted to hunt her for the right to win her in bed. There was something thrilling and primal about that, she had to admit. Although a supernatural being would likely have an edge in contests with humans.

“It’s getting dark,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to be running around the woods late at night.”

“Then we will begin at dawn.”

“How long would this challenge last?”

He seemed to consider.

“Let’s say two hours,” she went on before he could answer. “That’s the deadline.”

“If you think it will take me that long,” he said, his eyes glittering with amusement.

She ignored the comment. “What powers do you have that would give you unfair advantage?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Can you fly? Use X-ray vision?”

He shrugged. “My senses are keen, and I am quick. Except when it matters to a mate,” he added with a lopsided grin that rubberized her knees.

“I can be quick,” she said.

He snorted, and a wave of irritation hit her.

“You don’t think so?” she asked. “You think you’re a big bad hunter, while I’m the helpless little rabbit you intend to catch?”

“Perhaps not a rabbit. Something more wily and valuable.”

She made a face. “Then I have a proposal for you. I’ll agree to this game of yours on one condition. You won’t just be hunting me. We’ll hunt each other.”

His brows rose. “Intriguing. Your terms?”

He lifted her nose. “If you find me, I’ll surrender. But if I find you first, I choose whether or not to sleep with you.”

He nodded. “Very similar to my terms. There is a chance I might win even if I lose.”

“Don’t bet on it.” She took a step closer. “A woman scorned is a dangerous animal, god of Ostara, and you’re mocking my ability to hunt. You don’t think I can do it.”

“You did blunder in front of my arrow and nearly plow down a stag.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t hunting a really annoying stag who thinks I can’t track.” She held out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

He glanced at her hand.

“We shake on it,” she went on. “Or is the great god of the sabbat afraid he’s all talk when it comes to women?”

His eyes narrowed. “Afraid?”

He reached out to take her hand, but she glanced at his chest and yanked hers back. “Wait a minute. You still have an advantage. That thing.” She nodded to the pendant. “You can make yourself invisible. That’s hardly fair.”

He unfastened the pendant and started to slide it into his pocket, but she shook her head. “Uh-uh. You might put it on when I’m not looking.”

“You doubt my sense of honor?”

“I doubt your willingness to lose.”

He paused. “Where might it be kept that it can’t be used to either of our advantage?”

“Good point.” She eyed the gem. “We agree on a hunter’s honor to leave the pendant in my tent during the hunt. Neither of us will be allowed inside during the contest.”

Now he held out his hand. “Agreed.”

They shook on it, and the feel of his large, warm hand gripping hers set a swarm of flying monkeys loose in her stomach. She was really going to do this. She was going to hunt for the god of spring—and let him hunt for her.

“Should you decide temptation is getting the better of you,” he said without releasing her hand, “you can always cut the hunt short by coming out in the open and calling for me.”

“Spoken like a man who’s used to getting what he wants without having to work for it.” She pulled away. “Not a chance. This is a contest to prove your prowess, remember?”

The answering gleam in his eyes almost made her regret taunting him.

“And keep in mind,” she added, “surrendering yourself in hopes of buttering me up will wind up with you losing out.”

He smiled. “I plan to make you work for the challenge as hard as you intend to drive me.”

There was a subtle current of seduction mingled with a hint of threat in the words, and she suppressed a shudder.

He inhaled thoughtfully, expanding an already broad chest that she wished she was still pressed against. “I suppose you should have your meal and get some sleep. You’ll need your energy to take to the woods with a god of the hunt.”

“I thought you were the god of spring?”

“And I am also my father’s son.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime?” she asked.

He shifted the quill on his back and glanced skyward. “I will stay and await the dawn.”

“All night?” she asked in alarm.

“I do not require sleep in the same manner that you do. But I should be glad of some meat. I might attempt a night hunt while you rest.”

Show off, she thought.

“Don’t be surprised if you lose,” she said.

He held up the pendant. “Shall we go put this in your tent together?” he asked. “I will not require it again before our contest.”

Her pulse sped. Go inside her tent with him, where she would be trapped between his scent, his hard body, and her sleeping cot?

She was about to object when he winced. He grabbed hold of his chest and blew out a forceful breath.

“What is it?” she asked in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“I cannot stay,” he said. “I am being pulled back.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I will return.”

Although the pendant still swung loose in his hand, Tallisun vanished.

***

Tallisun paced around the chamber like a restless animal trapped in a cage. He had been drawn back to the Counsel some hours before, and now two of the members stared at him with dispassionate expressions and no sense of grasping what he was trying to say.

“Can you not return the pendant now?” he asked, eying the cord gripped between Counselor Veramus’s bony fingers. “The hour grows late.” Quite late, as once he had been brought back and the pendant taken, he had been left in chambers while the counselors debated who knew what. He had to return in time to begin the hunt.

“The hour had grown late some time ago,” said Counselor Veramus. “It is the eve of the sabbat. You were due here to begin the time of reflection and assess the potentials who have been chosen for you.”

“I was off on a hunt to clear my thoughts, and something of interest happened.”

“You were off pouting like a child, you mean,” said the other. Counselor Sandovar was the taller of the two, taller even that Tallisun, who himself rose to an impressive height. The two men wore the golden robes of the sabbat, for the official time of preparation was already counting down. Their hoods, however, would not be raised in deference until dawn rose on the actual day of the sabbat. When Tallisun had agreed to begin the hunt for Harper.

Tallisun’s gaze narrowed as he regarded the man. “Do bear in mind who it is you are speaking to, Counselor.” He spat out the last as though it were an epithet.

Sandovar gave a small nod of concession. “Indeed. Lord of the sabbat.”

Tallisun’s clenched muscles relaxed a little. “It is not customary for counsel members to use the device to recall a god,” he said, feeling a flicker of irritation at this unnecessary delay. What if Harper thought he would not return?

Sandovar gazed at him with pale and somewhat rheumy eyes. “You were missing.”

“I was not truly missing. My father would not be pleased to hear you jumped his authority in using the veil beckon.”

“Your father is the one who gave the command,” said Counselor Veramus. “He was not pleased to hear that the sabbat keeper could not be found on the eve of his duty. Especially after he was forced to turn down your attendance at the hunt in order to assure your timely presence.”

Tallisun gave a bitter snort. “Forced? And here he appeared not to give the decision a second thought.”

“So you decided to punish him by ignoring your duty,” said Veramus, swinging the pendant in his hand. “To linger overlong in the other realm, hunting to defy his will rather than seeing to your responsibilities for the sabbat.”

“As it happens, I was seeing to my responsibilities while I was there. And I would still be doing so, had you not pulled me back without so much as a by the leave of the gods.”

“Several candidates have been chosen as per custom,” said Sandovar. “You must now review the females and decide whom you will approach first to gain consent.”

He puffed his chest out. “I have already chosen a candidate of my own.”

Eyebrows arched. “You?” Veramus said, and the note of incredulity caused Tallisun to narrow his gaze. “But you have no interest in the identity of the maiden.”

“Nor in the sabbat, to hear you tell the tale.” Tallisun set his hands on his hips. “But I have selected her nonetheless, and I was in the process of obtaining her consent when you practically dragged me back by the hair.”

“Do not be so overdramatic,” Sandovar said. “This female you have supposedly chosen. Who is she? Does she meet the criteria?”

“She meets my criteria,” Tallisun said. “And it has been far too long since such a one has been gleaned for the ritual.”

“If you would just consider the others,” Veramus began.

Sandovar, his eyes wide now, grabbed the other counselor’s arm. “Do you not see? It is happening again.”

The men traded a look, and Veramus nodded slowly while raking an assessing gaze over Tallisun. “Perhaps.”

“What’s happening again?” Tallisun asked.

“He spends so much of his time avoiding this place that he has not heard the whispers,” Veramus said to Sandovar.

“He, as in your sabbat god, is standing right in front of you,” Tallisun said. “Do not speak as though I am not here.”

“Are you not aware that your brother, the god of Yule, bound himself to the earth realm?” Veramus asked.

Of course he was aware. Dominus freed himself of a duty to ancient ritual that had apparently held as dubious a meaning for him as it did for Tallisun.

Tallisun grunted. “Everyone for at least seven realms has heard of it.”

“And Eradimus, god of Imbolc, is also now in the arms of his sabbat partner,” Sandovar added.

“Yes, and I wish them well,” Tallisun said with forced patience. “My brother was in turmoil over his Brighid for far too long.”

“Now you have suddenly decided to choose the spring maiden,” Veramus said.

Tallisun folded his arms. “And what of it?”

“Do you not find it strange that each of you in turn are having, shall we say, unique experiences during your sabbats?” Veramus persisted.

“Well, it is the year of the Thousand Seasons. It is a time of change for us all.” Tallisun shrugged. “Do not look so alarmed. The Counsel has long groused that the god of Ostara has not taken enough of a direct hand in guiding the sabbat. You should be pleased that I am doing so now.”

“So you have no interest in reviewing the other potentials?” Sandovar asked.

Tallisun shook his head. “Harper shall be the one, and I will not be delayed further in securing consent. Send me back. And don’t wait up.” He gave the men a wicked grin.

“You must return to make ready, and so the woman can be transported to the sacred location.”

“I will select a location as well.” For what could be more sacred than the woods in springtime?

“But,” Veramus again tried.

“Return my pendant, Counselor,” he said, holding out his hand. “Or I shall report to my father that while I was preparing for the sabbat, you were acting against its interests.”

Tallisun stood there, his hand still out, until Counselor Veramus sighed. “Very well. But you must come back for reflection and proper attire before the ritual commences.”

He handed over the pendant, and Tallisun secured it around his neck. “I will return to prepare myself. But do keep in mind, how I choose to reflect and attire myself is up to me. I am, after all, the god of the sabbat, am I not?”

He did not give the counselors a chance to reply before he cleared his thoughts, focused on his destination, and took hold of the veil charm. He prayed she would still be there, willing to meet the challenge he had every intention of winning. Yes, this year’s sabbat was becoming an unusual one. But he saw nothing wrong with truly enjoying the female selected for the ritual. At dawn, he would win the right to lay Harper on the altar and celebrate the spring.

***

Harper checked her watch for the hundredth time and yanked on the elastic band securing her hair. Twenty-five after. The sky above was still dim, but a gray wash crept over the darkness. Dawn would come before long, but she hadn’t seen Tallisun since he’d winked out some time earlier.

She sat on her canvas folding chair, glancing at the campfire that had almost gone out. For much of the night, staring into the flames did little more than call up images of Tallisun and how foolish she’d been to take his proposition seriously. Gathering her hair up into a fresh ponytail, she secured it with the elastic and sighed.

“I must be the world’s biggest idiot,” she murmured.

She had managed to eat, but sleep had been another matter. She’d laid in the tent on her cot, her thoughts racing back and forth between what she had agreed to and the man she’d agreed, potentially, to do it with. It had taken forever to doze off, and after just a few hours, she’d popped wide awake and given up.

Tallisun was all sorts of wrong for her, but then, he wasn’t asking to go steady. All he wanted was some kind of ritualized roll in the sheets, and what was wrong with that? She’d had a one-nighter or two in her day and been fine with it afterward. Why not take advantage of a searing gaze, hot muscles, and the impressive bulge between his legs? She could walk away clean. Hell, she could have just agreed to his offer for the sake of a good orgasm, had it not been for his irritating presumption that she would swoon at the mere suggestion. Plus he thought she was a clumsy, incompetent female who had no business being out in the woods, let alone hunting. The god of spring could stand a lesson or two in girl power, and she would be happy to make him work for the panties other women apparently threw at his feet.

She got up to pee, stretching her arms and legs before heading for the tent. She could just call it and pack out early. Tallisun had said he would return, but there had been no sign of him. Or was he trying to trick her into thinking he’d gone away so he could catch her unawares at the break of dawn?

She ducked inside the tent and dug through her bag for the roll of camping-style toilet paper. The current brand was a bit sandpapery for her taste, but it beat using leaves. Sort of. She whirled back around, intending to head back out, but she froze when she spied the cot. There, lying on her favorite pillow, lay Tallisun’s veil pendant.

The gem winked and glowed, shimmering in a way that made her wonder how on earth she had managed not to see it as soon as she’d come in—nor had she seen him. How long had the gem been there?

“Tallisun?” she called out.

No reply. She stuck her head out of the tent, but saw no one.

She glanced at her watch again and swore softly. She clearly had an answer as to whether the game was on, and there wasn’t much time left to get ready.

During her quick pit stop in the woods, she finished formulating the strategy that she had begun mulling over while staring at the tent ceiling during the night. When she came back to camp, her heart gave a little skip. Tallisun was seated in her chair.

“Giving up so soon?” she asked, tossing the toilet paper into her tent.

“Dawn approaches,” he said, rising to face her. “I just wanted to make certain you did not simply want to surrender yourself.”

She made a face at him. “You wish.”

He smiled. “Not really. I do think I shall enjoy this hunt.”

He was tall, which was nice for a girl who had sprouted up so much during the summer of junior year that at least half of the guys never caught up. His hair hung long around his shoulders, which were still bare, save the tattoo. The bow and quiver leaned against the large cooler beside her chair.

“So how do we do this?” she asked. “Take off in different directions?”

He seemed to consider that. “A fair assumption. At the call of dawn, we will spend, say, the first ten minutes getting underway. After that, all is fair game.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“I can be quite reasonable.”

“I never would have guessed.”

Their eyes held, and for a fleeting moment, she wanted to send the challenge to hell and kiss him. When he licked his smiling lips, she wondered whether he was thinking the same thing.

“No reason we can’t just get started now,” she blurted out, feeling the warmth in her cheeks. “I mean, we’re just standing here.”

“Sounds like you are in a hurry for me to win.”

She snorted. “I’m in a hurry to show you all the ways in which you’re wrong.” He reached for his quiver, but she stepped forward. “Do you really need the bow and arrows? You’re not planning to shoot at me again, are you?”

“I didn’t shoot at you.”

“If it’s all the same to you, let’s have a no weapons rule.”

He shrugged. “If it would make you feel better.”

“Much.”

He bent close, and she feared he was truly about to kiss her. What would she do if he did? She could almost feel her panties chafing, eager to be dropped to her ankles.

“Last chance,” he whispered, very near her lips. He was deliberately taunting her.

Her heart wobbled, sputtered, and took a moment to restart normally. She spun around. “We’ll start back to back.”

She waited, tense, until he swiveled around and pressed his back to hers. The contact heated her blood, and the side benefit was a surge of adrenaline that would help when it came time to evade the man who was after her favors.

“Go,” she said, and they parted. She heard her feet as she crashed into the woods, but not a sound from the other direction. She got behind a tree and turned for a moment, just to reassure herself that he had, in fact, moved—and that he wasn’t following her. He was nowhere in sight.

“And no cheating,” she called out, and then she headed into the woods.

Hunting someone else while trying to evade capture herself would prove an interesting challenge. If she’d taken him up on his original offer, she could spend her head start finding the perfect hiding spot, camouflage herself, and simply wait out the time. But hiding wouldn’t help her get to him first.

After a few minutes, she veered off and began circling the campsite. She could make her way over to where Tallisun had set off, presuming he had gone straight in the direction he’d been facing. According to the rules she herself had made, she couldn’t start tracking him until the deadline, but if she headed the right direction, she’d be in a better position to pick him up when the time came. Presuming he wasn’t doing the exact same thing. He could be headed straight for her or circling around the opposite direction.

She snapped a twig with her hiking boot and cursed silently. He had made fun of her for blundering into his hunt, and her clumsiness wasn’t making matters better. Tallisun was quiet on his feet, she’d give him that. She glanced down and frowned at the lovely trail of boot prints she was leaving. Picking up the twig, she scraped leaves over several to hide them. She didn’t have time to go back and obliterate all traces, however. She’d just be more careful from here on.

She slowed her steps, dividing her time between checking the ground before stepping, gaging her travels around the campsite, and keeping an eye on her surroundings. A small sound stopped her, and she changed direction to check out the distraction. Birds hopped around a small clearing, pecking through dew-soaked leaves in search of an early breakfast. As she stood watching, an idea formed.

A few promising-sized stones were scattered around, and she gathered them. Just about the time she estimated she might cross Tallisun’s path, she moved in closer to the camp and chucked a rock as far to the opposite side as she could. She adjusted her aim by several feet and threw another, hopefully making it seem like she was in a section of the woods on the far side of the camp, close to the lake.

Ten minutes was almost up, as was the sun. The forest lit to an ash gray, and she heard a few more sounds as creatures began to stir in their respective homes. She turned back now to pick her way along the area near to, but not right on, the straight line she was hoping Tallisun had taken. She kept low, praying she wouldn’t be spotted sneaking around, ducking behind trees and between bushes that were far enough apart that she wouldn’t give herself away by having to push through them. Light filtered through the woods in large patches here, and she did her best to stick to the shadows.

A glance at her watch confirmed that hiding time was over. The hunt was officially on.

She stopped to take a look around. Tallisun was tall, but she couldn’t spot him. She needed a better vantage point.

The tree beside her extended a low-hanging branch, and after taking a moment to test her footing, she hoisted herself up. Her fellow hunter might be stealthy on the ground, but she had practically lived in trees as a child. Holding her breath and barely rattling a leaf, she pulled herself partway up, high enough to hide among the branches while still being able to see out.

Her first scan took her along his presumed trajectory, straight off from camp. Nothing. Nor was he visible where her path had first taken her. Perhaps he had gone deep into his side of the woods and was waiting for her to come to him. Possible, but unlikely. He would want to demonstrate his ability to track and hunt, not lie in wait.

Movement in the brush attracted her attention from a ways off, and she stared that way for a minute, waiting to see if it was him. She couldn’t tell, and sitting in the tree forever wasn’t going to get her very far. She was going to have to start tracking.

Getting down took a bit more doing than climbing up, but she was soon on the ground and making her way to his starting point. Staying out of sight, she checked the dirt and surrounding brush carefully for signs. Soon, she found them. His footfalls were light and, in several places, obscured. He had tried to cover his tracks. They headed out away from the camp, just as she’d done at first. She followed a bent twig here, a footstep there, and tracked his path to a spot where she froze. The steps doubled back, then headed sideways.

She allowed a tight smile. He’d done the same thing she had, only heading back around the far side. They were circling each other, and if he kept going, he would come right back around to this spot. Which gave her an idea.

With a moment’s hesitation, she stripped down to bra and panties. The overnight chill still hung in the air, and she fought off a shiver as she worked. She used leaves and clumps of brush nearby, stuffing them into the shirt and pants as quietly as she could, which was no simple matter. When the clothing was more or less plumped, she spent a good amount of time arranging them near the base of the tree. The pants weren’t too difficult to make appear like someone’s legs were in them, kneeling down. The shirt was a bit tougher and didn’t want to maintain its shape. She threw glances behind her often, stopping to listen for any sign of him gaining on her. Birds trilled encouragement from the trees, and after two more attempts, she finally got it right. It was far from perfect, but from the shadows and the angle he would approach from, it would look as though she was crouched by the tree, peeking around it while he snuck up from behind.

With a satisfied grin, she jammed her feet back into her shoes and glanced up the tree again. This climb wouldn’t be as fun. For all her climbing experience, she’d never attempted it wearing only a bra, panties, and hiking boots. Gritting her teeth, she took hold of the lower branch and made her ascent, stifling a grunt by biting her lip when she scraped her bare shins and once, her midriff. This time, she hefted herself onto a branch on the opposite side of the tree, facing the direction she hoped Tallisun was coming from. If he didn’t, if he doubled back and came from the front, the ruse would be up. He would see immediately that the stuffed dummy had no head.

Panting softly, her palms throbbing from clinging to the rough bark, she kept very still and waited. A good deal of patience came and went, and by the time the cold morning had soaked through to the bone, she began to doubt her brilliant scheme. Maybe he wouldn’t head this way at all, and she was freezing her nipples off for nothing. He could be over by where she’d first headed, trying to pick up her trail. Or maybe he had taken her idea of lying in wait, in which case the two of them would sit around until time was up. The challenge would be a tie then, she supposed. With a frown, she realized they hadn’t thought to declare the stakes in that case.

By this time, the hard branch was pressing painfully into her almost bare rear. She shifted, and as she did so, she set loose a few rustling leaves. Even worse, she heard another faint rustle nearby. She sucked in a breath and waited, and moments later, she caught the slight, but obvious movement. It was Tallisun.

She prayed he hadn’t noticed the tree shake, and she tried to calm the shiver in her limbs while he approached. She watched in admiration as his eyes scanned the area, his footsteps light and sure, his muscles flexing and obeying his every graceful command. He didn’t need an invisibility gem to make him a stealthy hunter. Every inch of his body had been honed for the task. The antlers were the only disadvantage. Their size would make it difficult for him to make his way through narrow spaces or beneath low branches.

He stopped short when he spotted her dummy, and she resisted the urge to pull back deeper under the cover of the tree. Any slight movement could vibrate the branch and disturb more leaves, or the motion itself could catch his eye. He didn’t look up, though. He was focused on the “woman” crouched at the base of the tree.

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 through 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?”

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 whether 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.

“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.

“Then let the keeper of Ostara blow the sabbat horn so that the ritual may commence.”

He spoke words she didn’t understand, some kind of declaration based on the intensity and volume. He pulled the horn free from his belt and put it to his lips. He tilted his head back, sucked in a deep breath, and blew. The horn was not of this world, it couldn’t have been, for the sound sounded like many trumpets together, horns and animals blended in a call that could wake the entire forest for miles around. His robe fell open when he had tugged on it, and she saw that he was indeed naked underneath. Every inch of him was carved like a statue, tanned and muscled. The erection already stiffening toward her was long and thick and more than a little intimidating. Yet the sound of his horn, the blended music of nature, raw animal, and power, called to her, honing and perfecting her attraction to Tallisun until it bloomed into full-blown lust. She wanted to dance around that altar, revel freely in the wild, and pull the horned god onto the rabbit pelts with her until the sun rose.

She was swaying on her feet when the horn call ended, and he looked down on her, his golden eyes blazing like fire, hunger evident in his stare. Her eyelids fluttered, and she was heady with that sound still echoing in her mind, beckoning the wildness within her to join with the maleness of the god in front of her. She would be his offering, a sacrifice on the altar.

Her head lolled back, and she laughed. How buoyant she felt, drunk with the energy in the clearing and the call of his horn. Her reticence faded in the wake of its power, and all she wanted was to see the ritual through. He could have laid her down in the middle of Times Square and she wouldn’t have objected.

“I do not usually blow the sabbat horn in this realm,” he said, sliding his hand behind her neck to support her head. “It is typically done before I step through the veil. As nothing about this sabbat has been typical thus far, I thought I would change that tradition. But perhaps that was a mistake. I see it has affected you quite strongly.”

She reached up, tracing the line of his antlers and down along his face. “It was so powerful. Just like you.”

Her legs no longer wanted to support her, and she nearly fell. He swooped her up and draped her on the altar, slowly, seductively, his antlers still tinkling with the adornments when he bent over her, stroking her hair.

“Now what?” she asked quietly. “What do I do?”

“Accept me.”

His lips followed the request, and the moment they closed over hers, the drunken sensation spun around inside her head. He was kissing her most thoroughly, his tongue plunging deep and swirling around until her pussy grew damp, but she still heard that horn as though he were blowing it again. He parted her legs, and she opened for him, and without breaking their kiss, he moved in between her thighs.

Only then did his lips wander, traveling down her neck, kissing her cleavage while he untied the knot of her blouse. He moved his head carefully, avoiding grazing her with his antlers, while he freed her breasts and kneaded one with his hand while teasing the other nipple with a gentle lick.

She let out a breath and arched beneath him, shuddering at the waves of need he was coaxing from her, an energy building as high and mighty as the phantom tree. He moved his kisses downward, running his tongue along her ribcage and down her belly. Part of her began to wonder whether he had ever bothered with this sort of thing with the women before her, those who had been only marginally aware of his existence. How she pitied them, for they had been sorely missing out.

He parted the reeds of her skirt, and her mind blanked on thoughts of any woman he may have been with before. Her mind blanked on everything but the feel of his hot, wet tongue on her clit and the vibration of his moan adding to the pleasure while he tasted her. She reached for him, taking hold of his antlers and hanging on while she thrust against his mouth, growing wetter and the sound of the horn in her mind driving her to grind her hips. Her body slid along the sensual tufts of soft fur, too soft to gain traction when she tried planting her heel and pressing her groin harder to him.

His tongue worked faster now, dipping inside her slit, and she grabbed one of his hands and pulled it to her breast. He tweaked her nipple, kneading and rolling it, until she cried out.

She was right on the edge when he stopped, and she let out a groan of frustration.

He slid up her body, and she could no longer wait to feel him inside her. Tallisun as a lover was like no man she had ever known. The power was intoxicating, and his scent, his hard body, the feel of his antlers, stiff and phallic when she groped them—she would never again know anything so magnificent. She longed for him to plunge into her with that thick cock while at the same time regretting it, for this was one experience she never, ever wanted to end. If only she could be such a revelation to him, grant him as much mind-blowing passion as he was giving her. But he was a god, and she was a mere mortal. Their coupling to him was about his ritual duty, and it would be over soon. All she could do was hang on and enjoy every second of the ride, and try not to think too much about what would happen when it was finished.

***

By all the glories of spring. This was not what he’d intended when he’d selected his own ritual partner.

Harper stretched his patience to the thinnest, thrusting her hips against his mouth while he lapped at the sweet musk he had not sampled on a woman in too long to recall. Her full breast in his hand, her clit in his mouth, and his cock ready to explode before he even claimed her as ritual demanded...none of this had been in his thoughts when he’d first asked her consent. True, he had enjoyed the thought of being with her, knowing he already desired her. But that she would respond to him thusly, like two animals fiercely coupling in the wild, took him on a journey he had no idea how to return from.

She tugged on his antlers, which would begin to loosen soon. Still, they were secure at the moment, and he grunted in pleasure at the sensation. Her insistence drove his own to new heights. He wished for hours more in which to enjoy the ripe fruit of her body, but the ritual must be complete before full dark, which was all too near upon them. In any case, his cock was fraught with need, his balls already tight and ready to empty themselves. He was not used to being so desperate, like a young and untaught lad. But he had to have her. Now.

He slid up her body, pausing to suck on her breasts and watch with profound satisfaction how they turned to long, pink nubs from his efforts. He rose up over her, positioning himself, feeling the slick heat beneath the tip of his throbbing cock. The smoldering desire in her dark eyes conquered the last bit of reserve he had left. His robes draped them both, covering what he was about to do from the wild woods around them. He drove himself into her, trying to push in with a slow, steady motion, but instead thrusting in with a wild grunt. She caught her breath when he did, and together they moved, hips grinding, muscles flexing, sweat mingling with sweet breath and moans of seduction.

The god of spring felt the energy pour forth, not merely from their act of joining, but from the roots of the tree. It spread over them like a blanket of power, strengthening him. His own energy joined in, pushing outward, intertwining with the life surging around them. They were connected, Tallisun and Harper, male and female, god and mortal. And their connection stretched to all life, pushing into roots in the ground, swirling around leaves in the trees. Never before had the connection implied in his ritual manifested itself in such a profound, palpable way. Was it his companion, his need for her? Was it the location they had chosen, outdoors in a space where such power already existed?

The sensations flooding his body threatened to overtake him, but this was a sacred ritual that required the god to give thanks. He uttered the prayer in two tongues, changing back and forth so that his maiden could understand some of its meaning.

“Mannai a tomasta. I call to the spirits of the universe. Adowai to-shai a Ostara, and as the god of the sabbat, keeper of the old ways, I offer thanks. I show reverence for the power of new life, the union of male and female, the magic by which we are all formed.”

He closed his eyes and heard the primal call of his horn, pushing him to forget the ceremony and fuck her harder, push himself deep and claim this female as a male heeding the urges of his body. He could speak no more. His hips responded, and he plunged faster, taking his possession. She was his, in that moment, and she clutched at him, her nails raking down his sweating back as the final moments of his will drew near an end.

Harper seized up and yelled his name, shuddering around his cock as climax took her. Thank the heavens, for not even one more moment’s control was within his grasp. He let go as well, letting out a warrior shout and emptying himself inside her. The magic followed, the power of a god bringing forth his essence on a sabbat, turning the clearing into a thick haze of musky sex and powerful connection. His antlers were already tingling, beginning the process of loosening, while he ground out the final few thrusts and collapsed beside the woman who had just shown him a sabbat like no other.

There was barely room for him beside her, and only with him turned on his side. She turned also, making more space for him. For a time, there was nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing and the now faint, almost imperceptible blast of his horn. The call echoed through the universe, a vanguard ahead of the energy he had just sent off to aid the wheel of the year. That power would move the forces of nature, turning the height of spring to the waiting heat of summer.

The two faced one another, Tallisun propped up on one elbow to keep his antlers out of the way. He gazed down at the woman he had no idea would be such a lustful partner, letting his eyes roam her seductive contours. Perhaps he should have realized there was a fire in her that would tax every bit of his reserve. He had chosen her, after all, to be the partner in a standout sabbat, a rite marking the year of the Thousand Seasons. The era had gone out with a blast of his horn and an explosion of yearning that he had not attributed to a female in a very long time. There were other things that he desired, of course. The hunt with his father was one, as well as to be acknowledged by the god of the forest as a worthy and capable heir to the title. A hunt made him at once alert and yet relaxed, fulfilled even while questing for his latest catch.

Now, his latest conquest lay beside him, trying to still her breaths by taking in deep inhalations, and he felt himself split in two. He was both the conqueror and the conquered.

With a smile, he reached out and ran his hand over her hip.

“So,” she said after a while, glancing up at him.

“So?”

“That was, well, something.”

He eyed her. “Something is perhaps better than nothing, but I am not sure you are saying our ritual was satisfactory.”

She pushed herself up on one elbow, mimicking his pose. “No, I’m not saying it was satisfactory. I’m saying you were out of this world.”

He gave her a grin. “I thought I was most fully in this world when we were joined.”

She screwed up her face at him. “You’re really going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “You expressed grave concern that I would not fulfill your needs as a partner. I intend to be quite clear that your experience was adequate.”

Harper ran a hand along the arm he now draped over her hip. “God of Ostara, my experience was so far beyond adequate that I have no words. Is that clear enough?”

Tallisun leaned in and kissed her, feeling his heart pick up pace at the velvety feel of her lips brushing his. “Most clear, thank you,” he said when he pulled back.

“Thank you. Although I do hope you have healing powers in your bag of tricks. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk after this.”

She sat upright, letting out a whoosh of air, and then she gasped. “Oh, Tallisun. Look!”

Harper was pointing to the ground, and he sat up to see. He blinked and looked again.

“Is this what happens in your rituals?” she asked.

He shook his head, and the motion was enough to feel that his antlers were coming loose. But he hardly noticed, for his eyes were fixed on the clearing. All around them, far beyond the circle where he had scattered petals over dirt, rocks, and occasional spotty patches of green, a blanket of soft green stems had erupted in bunches. Thousands of flowers shaped like tiny white balls had blossomed on their tips, making a white-green carpet.

“How?” she asked. “There’s not even any daylight. Was it your magic?”

“Our magic,” he said. “Blended with that of the tree and the surrounding area. I felt the connection when we were joined.”

“I did too,” she said, whispering with a quiet awe. “I feel sorry for the spring maidens who have slept through all of this.”

“They have never slept through this,” he said. “For it is new to me as well.”

She leaned over and kissed him, and he stroked her hair while exploring her mouth.

“Have you ever made the spring ritual a double-header?” she asked breathlessly.

He didn’t bother asking what she meant, for he knew what she wanted. Without a word, he pulled her onto his lap, which was already stiff and ready to act on her suggestion. He bit her lower lip playfully, grabbed hold of her bottom through the scratchy reeds of her makeshift skirt, and helped guide her right where he needed to feel her.

After he had finished making her scream yet again, they sat together for a while in silence, gazing at the flowers blanketing the area and basking in the remnants of energy that floated around the clearing. The base of Tallisun’s antlers itched and tingled, a persistent reminder that his task had been successful for another year. It was time for the shedding, and the ceremonial mounting of the set in the Chamber dedicated to the Ostara sabbat.

“What do you think was different this time?” Harper asked after a while. “Is it because we were outside, by the phantom tree, that all this happened?” She waved her hand around to indicate the carpet of blooms.

He scratched at his head. “I am not certain.”

“Or maybe it was because you like me.” She grinned at him.

He growled, but with a tinge of amusement. “We are back to that again.”

“It’s true, isn’t it? You’re not going to deny it.”

“If I had not felt we could be compatible, I would not have asked you to be the spring maiden.”

“The god of spring has a crush on a girl.”

“A crush?”

“It means you’re attracted to me.”

“I should think that has been made quite obvious.”

She stood up in front of him. “I’ll have to say, it never occurred to me that I would find antlers so hot on a guy. Holding onto them earlier made me crazy.”

She reached out and grabbed them before he got a chance to warn her, and he tried to pull back, but she caught hold and pulled. He heard the crack, and he could tell she had, too, because her eyes flew wide with horror. The shed gave way in her hands, and she staggered back two steps, her mouth open.

“Oh my god,” she said.

Now he laughed, a loud, deep belly laugh that felt carefree and most welcome.

She shot him a glare. “Why are you laughing?”

Her eyes were as big around as a goblet now, and he laughed harder.

“It’s not funny.” She gaped at the rack in her hands. “Or are you going to tell me now that the antlers were, in fact, glued on all along?”

He rose and took them from her. “They are real. I shed them each year after the spring ritual, remember? I told you.”

“Oh. Right.” She blinked, a wide, innocent blink that brought the grin back to his face. “Still, I am so sorry.”

“It is no matter. This saves me from having to hook them through the iron scroll work on the Counsel gate in order to pry them off.”

She was staring at his head now. “You know, you could almost pass for human this way.”

He shot her a skeptical look. “I should think not.”

“Well, not your eyes. They almost glow, there’s so much gold in them. But the no-horns thing is an interesting look for you.”

“Do not get used to it. They will begin growing back before the month is out.”

She raised her brows at him. “Are you offering me a chance to get used to it?”

He stared at her. The words had just slipped out. He hadn’t meant them the way he realized now that they sounded.

“Never mind,” she said before he could answer. “That wasn’t the deal.” She adjusted her blouse and shrugged. “We’re two grown adults who engaged in an evening of fully consensual and mutually satisfying sex. No need to tie any strings to it, right? I’m a modern woman, and you’re a modern...oh, well, I suppose not all that modern. But you’re a god who doesn’t have time for a relationship. I get it.”

The way she shrugged off the idea of future contact, much to his surprise, sent a ruffle of irritation through him. She spoke in quick, flippant words that made it seem she was ready to be done with him. She was correct that seeing one another again hadn’t been part of the “deal”. Still, her willingness to put their time behind her in such a rapid and decisive manner rankled.

“It appears you understand the situation, then,” he said. “You agreed our time together would be just for the ritual.”

“I do, and I did.” She was hugging herself now, and he realized that since most of the energy from their coupling had taken flight, a chill had crept into the clearing.

He stood and took up the hide blanket, wrapping it around her.

“Well,” she said.

“Well.”

“I guess that’s it then.” She was eying him.

Was it? She seemed quite eager to be rid of him now that the deed was done. This was a most unusual feeling for him. Not that he ever lingered with the females after the ritual concluded. But he took his leave in his own time, not because the maiden was practically shoving him back through the veil.

His brow furrowed. “I should see you back safely to your camp.”

She smiled at him. “I think I can make it a few hundred feet on my own. I’m camping by myself, remember? Even if you walk me there, I’ll be alone when you’re gone.”

His heart sped. Yes, she would be alone. And so would he. But for how long in her case? He wondered what measure of time would pass before she would take another lover. And how he would feel about the notion by then.

Harper got up on her toes and kissed his cheek, sending a little jolt through him. He still felt the press of her lips after she pulled away. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, you hot stag you.”

He didn’t reply, and she grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it.” She lifted some reeds of her skirt and gave a curtsy. “Thank you, god of Ostara, for allowing me to be part of spring.”

She turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her, words he might say in response flying through his thoughts but refusing to come out. His head was telling him to follow, go with her to the campsite, but his feet defied the command. Harper was a hunter who liked being alone, just like him. She didn’t need a male holding her hand to guide her through the woods. She didn’t need him at all.

He swallowed and glanced back at the clearing, at the tree stump and the fresh blooms that stood at attention, bending slightly in deference to the god of spring. A wave of his hand snuffed the torches, plunging the setting of the ritual into darkness. With the spent antlers in hand and his destination in mind, he took hold of the veil pendant and phased out of the woods.

***

“Exactly how many more of those are you planning to eat?”

Haper glanced up to see Jessica staring with the mixture of horror, judgment, and admiration that only a best friend could perfect.

Harper rolled the hard-boiled egg on the counter, listening to the satisfying crunch of shell crackling beneath her palm. “I boiled two dozen.”

“And you’ve already devoured at least half that.”

“I like eggs.”

“You like meat, remember? A fact that I have been graciously willing to overlook in our relationship.”

Harper’s stomach turned sideways. “Why are you complaining? You’ve been bitching at me for two years about my consumption of red meat.”

“And with good reason. Do you know how many hormones and antibiotics they inject in those animals?”

“Not the grass fed stuff. And don’t forget I also eat fresh game.”

“Ugh.” Jessica’s heels clicked on the linoleum as she crossed over to the fridge. “I’d like to forget. How can you even stand that?”

It was a conversation the pair of them had roughly every few months or so. Jess was a born and bred vegetarian who had, against her better judgment, fallen in with the likes of a weekend hunter. Theirs was a strange friendship, an actual Nordstrom-clerk-meets-Bass-Pro-Shop thing that was reflected in the styles of the bedrooms in the apartment they shared. Each was decorated courtesy of fifty percent off sales at their jobs—one in modern contemporary, the other one in rustic hunting lodge.

Harper peeled the egg while she watched Jessica stick her head in the fridge. With the girl’s height plus the addition of the shoes, this involved bending over to see what was stocked. “Your steak looks gross,” she said. “It’s got that nasty gray stuff on it.”

“Since I know you’re not planning on eating it, I don’t see why it matters.”

Jessica pulled the Styrofoam package out and eyed the label. “Good god! Fifteen dollars? That’s a bag of farmer’s market produce down the tubes. It’s not like you to let a disgusting slab of rib eye go to waste. What’s wrong?”

“Maybe I’m tired of meat.”

“You? I should call 9-1-1.” Jessica put the package under Harper’s nose. “Just look at this sad state of affairs.”

Harper twisted her head and made a face. “I don’t have to look. I can smell it. Throw it away already.”

Jessica shook her head as the steak found a new home inside a scented Hefty bag. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink—twice. “You’ve been acting so weird since that camping trip before Easter.”

“You mean Ostara.”

“O-what? No, Easter. You were up by the lake the weekend before, and when you got back you started moping around and not eating.”

“You just accused me of wiping out a dozen eggs. How is that not eating?”

“You know what I mean.”

Jessica was a buyer for Nordstrom’s and looked every bit the part. Pastels and creams swirled along the tailored lines of her designer dress, which had been paired with matching strappy heels and a lavender infinity scarf. Her sleek chestnut bob hung in a perfect sheet with just the right amount of curve as it brushed her collarbones. Harper never had that kind of luck with her hair. Releasing the beast of wavy brown locks from its ponytail meant all sorts of adventures with hair care products that she didn’t have the time or the manual dexterity to deal with. She couldn’t pull off wearing a scarf, either. Some people just weren’t the scarf type, and she was woman enough to admit she was one of them. Jessica could throw one on and look like the editor of a fashion magazine. Harper could spent fifteen minutes knotting, flinging, and rearranging and look like her outfit had vomited up a bit of mismatched fabric. Since she worked for a sporting goods store, however, her lack of accessorizing ability hadn’t hampered her career prospects.

She grabbed the salt shaker and held her egg over the sink, sprinkling a generous amount on top.

“Excess sodium intake can make you retain water,” Jessica said.

“Lucky for me I don’t have to squeeze my feet into your size 5 heels.” She bit the top of the egg off and chewed.

Jessica leaned against the counter and sighed. “Okay. Fess up right now.”

“About what?” Harper asked, her mouth still full.

“I find you awake at all hours, you’ve stopped eating meat, and you’re acting generally weird and elusive.”

Harper glanced at the floor and noticed a bit of shell that had tried to launch itself to freedom. “How am I elusive?”

“See! You did it right then. I ask about you, and instead of answering, I get evasive maneuvers. You don’t even make eye contact.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“I know you, Harper Jean Malloy. You’re keeping something from me. Something happened up at the lake.”

“What could have happened at the lake?” she asked, and then groaned inwardly at the infraction. Jessica was right. Harper couldn’t answer a simple question when she was feeling guilty.

“So what did you do?” Jessica persisted. “Did you find out your hunting license expired or something?”

“Why do you assume I did anything wrong?”

Jessica’s eyes gleamed. “Aha!” she said, pointing at Harper. “More evasion. Go on. Spill it.”

Harper let out a sigh and dropped the remaining half of her egg on a plate. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Okay. So what am I not thinking?”

She took in a deep breath, wondering if she was really about to tell her best friend everything. “There was a...guy.”

Jessica’s brows shot up. “Wait. A guy? Like as in a male guy?”

Harper snorted. “No, a chick guy. Of course a male guy.”

“And?”

“And I met him up at the lake.”

“Now we’re talking.” She leaned over and smacked Harper on the arm. “So what happened? Who is he? Was he hunting up there? Did you get his number? Is he rich?”

Harper held up her hands. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, Fiddler on the Roof. Before you go getting any matchmaking ideas, it’s not like that. We, well, it was just a thing. It’s over.”

Just a thing. Yeah. If she kept telling herself that, maybe plastered it on a billboard, she’d eventually believe it.

“How much of a thing was this thing?”

She shrugged. “You know. We had a thing.”

“You had a flirt-and-wish thing, or an actual sex thing?”

“It was pretty actual.”

Jessica sucked air through the slight gap in her front teeth, which was to date the only flaw Harper had managed to catalog on her. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure how to say it.”

“How about, ‘I met a guy and slept with him’?”

“Well, if you’re going to be all obvious about it like that.”

“Hell yeah, I am. So? How was it?”

She closed her eyes and the image came to life, him moving over her, the utter power and beauty in his carved face while he threw his head back, his horns tossing like a wild beast while he made her one with the universe. Mind-erasing, transformative, lingering...she couldn’t stop thinking of Tallisun and their time together. The crooked smile that lit his golden eyes into little flames, the muscles that beckoned her touch, the way he had stood with his head lifted, legs planted solid, and cock rising while he had blown the horn she could still hear late at night, when the world was too quiet to drown it out.

“Hello,” Jessica said. “Earth to Harper. Your jealous friend who hasn’t had a date in two months needs vicarious details. A name, physical description. Measurements. You know, the good stuff.”

Details? She opted for the safest one. “His name was Tallisun.”

A face followed this info. “First or last?”

“I’m guessing first.”

“What is it, Greek?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t seem Greek.” But then, there were Greek gods. Did the ancient Greeks worship a god of spring?

“What was he like?”

She hugged herself, rubbing the arms of her double thick thermal knit. “Tall, brownish-gold eyes, blond hair.”

“Handsome?”

“Breathtaking.”

Jessica nodded. “Go on.”

“That’s it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh no, it isn’t. Did he make love slow or wild?”

“Both.”

“Ooh. At the same time, or was it more than once?”

“Twice.”

“But it’s over? How come?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Not for a best friend.”

Harper chewed a hangnail while considering how to answer. “Tallisun’s not from around here. He was only visiting for the weekend, then he was going away.”

“Away to where, another planet? Surely you can still keep in touch. It’s a global age we live in.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think either of us was up for a long-distance thing. Not him, at least.”

“Oh.” Jessica’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Except for the eggs and no meat.”

“Yeah.”

“Guys are jerks?”

“Not this time. But thanks for having my back.” She put away the eggs and wandered to the living room that took heavy influence from her chic, accessory-friendly roomie, save for the brown leather couch that Harper had contributed.

“So tell me about the show,” Harper said. “What’s the good word on the summer collection?”

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, feet curled beneath them and facing each other.

“You’re asking me to talk about fashion?” Jessica asked. “God god, you must have had it bad for this Tallisun. By the way, did he have a last name? A solid career path?”

“Distraction, please,” she said. “Not emphasis.”

“Fair enough. But not without wine. This is your basic alcohol consumption occasion.”

Jessica poured and talked, and Harper let her. She ordinarily could have cared less about summer palettes and the drape of organic fabrics or the virtues of palazzos versus capris, but she welcomed any and all chatter about something other than her internal monologue over Tallisun. She’d been stupid to let him go so easily. Sure, he was from another realm and hadn’t come here looking for a girlfriend. But they’d been so in tune with each other, so right when they fit together in all the ways that made her body cry for more. Even now she could feel him, smell the spring dew on his breath, feel the damp heat of his back when she held onto him. Yet she had barely said goodbye, let alone asking if he would consider seeing her again. She’d been too much of a coward to hear the answer. So she’d started babbling a preemptive farewell before he could dump her.

What would have been the point in asking for anything more? There was no future they could have. Not when he was a god who mated with human women each spring and probably had immortal girlfriends in between. But it might have been nice to be with him for a while, see how things went. Sharing the spring ritual and just leaving felt wrong now. Empty. She’d lost her taste for meat and couldn’t even think of hunting without wondering what she had ever seen in it. Something had changed in her when Tallisun had claimed her, just as he had transformed the landscape around them. The clearing had come into full bloom, and so had Harper. Now she felt shriveled. She wondered whether the forest around the phantom tree felt the loss of its god as well.

Curiosity nagged at her. She could go back, see for herself. He wouldn’t be there, of course. But was the stunning bed of flowers still blanketing the clearing? Could she still sense, maybe even see, the phantom tree without Tallisun’s help? Maybe being out there again would shake her loose from this feeling of emptiness. The weekend was coming, and she wouldn’t spend it sitting around the apartment. She could try to hunt, cook some meat over an open flame. Even though that didn’t sound particularly appealing at the moment, it was time to get back to her life. If she could figure out what that meant anymore.

***

Tallisun stood in the chamber, his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the antlers mounted on the wall. The chamber was an homage to his calling, a temple of sorts revering all that was Ostara, sabbat of spring. Behind him were displayed exquisite symbols of the season, such as delicate gold filigree eggs, marble hares with ruby eyes, and a hanging branch that had brought forth the first buds of spring. And his antlers of course, together with the orb that sat beside the arched doorway, its coloration and position denoting the time until the next sabbat. Within it were threads of black mist, the mists of time given by the Fates themselves, which at present were barely visible within the silvery-blue glimmer of the veil. The black mists would increase, shading more and more of the ball until the next sabbat was at hand. The orb in turn would shift around the room, a calendar of sorts, making its way around the chamber.

Many times had the orb completed its circuit, just as his antler sheds had been hung anew each Ostara. And now it was the Thousand Seasons, a time for rebirths, new beginnings, and shedding the cloak of a former season. All these things Tallisun understood well from his time as the god of spring, but he had not truly anticipated the depths to which those winds of change would penetrate him.

Recessed lighting shone on the antlers that had come off in Harper’s hands, showcasing the successful completion of the sabbat. They would be replaced with a new set next time, and as was customary, the previous sheds would be gifted to dignitaries, sold at private auction, or discreetly ground up and sprinkled over the crops being sown. By this time next year, his union with Harper would no longer be memorialized except in his own spirit, in the way he pictured her even now, her eyes sparkling while she teased him about his “crush” on the spring maiden. It had apparently delighted her that he felt an attraction, and yet she could barely be rid of him fast enough when the ritual was over. Well, that wasn’t quite true, perhaps, for she had initiated a second lovemaking before she had all but sent him away.

“You are here yet again,” said someone beside him, intruding on his thoughts.

Storell, son of Dornan, leaned against the archway with his thick forearms crossed. Time spent aiming a bow and wielding a sword had carved Storell into quite a figure, every muscle pronounced beneath the togas he preferred. They had long gone out of vogue in this realm, but few would say so to the son of a distant, yet important war god.

“I thought perhaps our timing was merely off since I’ve not seen you on the range,” Storell went on. “But today I heard you have not sunk so much as a single arrow into the hay since the sabbat.”

Tallisun turned. “I have been otherwise occupied.”

“And what occupies the god of spring so thoroughly once his antlers have already been shed?”

“Nothing of any interest to the son of a war god.”

“Good. Shall we set out on a hunt, then? I hear the thickets have filled with an unprecedented amount of game this year. Too much for the amount of food they will be able to obtain.”

“Yet there is an excess of greenery as well,” Tallisun said. “Perhaps the abundance of game shall have a fighting chance during the year of the Thousand Seasons.”

“Especially if the great Tallisun, son of Herne the Hunter, has given up the sport.”

“I have not given up.” Except for a woman he couldn’t shake loose from his thoughts. Harper had dug in deep, growing inward like a pair of horns that he could not extract without damaging his own soul.

“Then come, let us make way. After the hunt, we will celebrate our fruits with wine I have brought from the tenth realm. Two or three goblets of that fine bouquet ought to loosen your sour expression.”

“My expression is as it has always been.”

Storell laughed. “Indeed? The night you returned from the sabbat, you looked as though someone had stolen your finest horse.”

“I do not have a horse.”

“Then perhaps that is the problem.” Storell tossed back a sheet of jet black hair. “Or was the rutting not to your satisfaction?”

Tallisun’s brows lowered. “I may bear the antlers of a horned god, but I do not rut like an animal.”

“Pity. For I heartily recommend a good, sound rut now and again.” The grin that broke out showed white teeth, and Tallisun couldn’t help but crack half a smile himself.

“I must decline your offer,” he said. “Perhaps next time.”

“So if it not a horse nor the pleasure in your sabbat joining, what is it that has you in such a poor disposition?”

Tallisun sighed. “It is all of this,” he said, waving his hand around at the chamber. “Is my life to be nothing more than statues and symbols and sheds on the wall, year after year?”

“You have a position of respect and power, and the admiration of many. What else do you require?”

He reached up to feel the knob where his new set of antlers would sprout before long. “Something more than my position affords.”

“Is this about your father’s refusal to let you attend the hunt? I know you have been setting your cap for his title for many sabbats.”

“It is not about the hunt.” Tallisun wandered over to where the budding branch hung. He sighed and spun around on his boot heel. “It is about the spring maiden.”

Storell strolled into the chamber, pausing beside the dais in the center where the sabbat horn sat on a pedestal display. “The spring maiden as in the role of earth females, or as in one particular maiden?”

“A very particular one.”

Storell grunted. “There was much conjecture about your sudden decision to choose the maiden yourself this year. I daresay near as much as long ago, when it became clear you had no interest in choosing. Not that I hear much official talk these days. Tones hush quickly when outsiders come on the scene.”

“Your father gave wisdom to the Counsel for generations. I would hardly call you an outsider.”

“Yes, but we digress from the topic of your woman.”

“She is not my woman.”

“And is that the problem?”

Tallisun didn’t answer.

“Ah. That is why you no longer desire the hunt. The prey you seek now walks on two legs and dazzles with a pretty smile.”

“And fangs that would tear into my flesh the next time I must seek a spring maiden.”

“Indeed.” There was a pause. “Unless you did not.”

“Did not what?”

“Do not seek another spring maiden.”

Tallisun folded his arms. “Step away from my calling, you mean? No longer be god of the sabbat?”

“You make it sound as though you have a problem with that. You’ve long complained that your true desire is with the hunt, not as a spiritual manifestation of the sabbat.”

“My father had other plans.”

“So make plans of your own. It is the year of the Thousand Seasons. Perhaps the time has come for a change.”

Storell had a point, one Tallisun had been thinking of since he had phased back through the veil. Still, it wasn’t his usual dissatisfaction that brought him back to this chamber day after day. Indeed, the sabbat this year had been exhilarating and rich in meaning. He had connected with the spirit of his calling in a deeper way than he ever imagined. No. His life was missing something else entirely.

In moments when he dared allow himself to think of it, he realized he no longer thought of the hunt in the same way. The thrill of the chase, the triumph of the kill, he had always placed great store by these. But now, they were empty and hollow victories. What was the point in it? His father had kept his title and his focus for thousands of years. But becoming a god of the hunt held little sway for Tallisun now. Existence as a whole had taken on a gray tinge, a cloud over the clarity he once had for his life and the future.

“You don’t seem convinced,” Storell said, plucking at the knife sheathed on his belt.

“The truth is, I feel as though I am detached from my own life. It floats overhead, out of reach, mocking all of the goals I once set for myself. None of them hold any meaning now.”

They stood in silence.

“It is a woman, then,” Storell offered at last. “Nothing else can cause such disarray in a man’s mental faculties.”

“Honestly? You may be right.” He wandered back over to the antlers. “I never intended on choosing my ritual partner. I was even late for opening preparations, did you know? The counselors were so put out that they pulled me back to the realm.”

Storell shook his head.

“I had been tarrying in the earth woods, angry with Father for not allowing me to take part in the Hunt of the Three Horns. I decided to go on a hunt of my own, perhaps bag a kill to rival the great Herne’s. Instead, I encountered a woman in the woods. She became my first chosen since near the beginning of my calling.”

“She is a great beauty, I take it.”

“Very. But that was not why I chose her.”

“Other attributes below the neck, then.”

“She is a hunter. A strong, independent, a woman who knows her own mind.”

Storell screwed up his face. “That sounds like trouble. These are not attributes I recommend in choosing a bed partner.”

“Worse. She cost me my kill. Walked right up to the watering hole where a stag was awaiting my arrow.”

Now Storell gaped at him. “No wonder you are in such a state. You question your own sanity in choosing a female with so many flaws.”

“They are not flaws in my eyes.” He heaved out a sigh. “The ritual, what happened in that moment, I cannot forget the singular import of it. I grasped as never before why I am the god of spring. And she was part of that.”

“So you had a stellar year. That does not mean you need make more of it than what is. There is rumor that the Yule light kicked off the Thousand Seasons with unprecedented power. Perhaps you merely carried that energy forth.”

“No. It was more than that.”

Although what, he could not say. Harper had asked him why this ritual had been different, but he hadn’t been able to give a complete answer. It just had been. He hadn’t gone seeking a revived interest in his faith when he’d gone into the woods, but he had found new meaning in the Ostara sabbat nevertheless. He had found her.

“You like her.”

Tallisun’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You have taken a fancy to the spring maiden.”

The familiarity tugged at his stomach. “That is precisely what she told me.”

Storell’s eyes shot wide. “She told you? You revealed yourself to her?”

Tallisun nodded.

His friend’s smile broadened. “Yes, yes, it is plain to me now. That is why you barely ate or drank at the feast, even though you had fasted for the sabbat and, one might assume, performed with vigor during the ritual. Has your appetite returned?”

Tallisun glanced away. “Not as such.”

“Sleep?”

Tallisun paused. “Gods do not need much sleep.”

“That reply was not in the least convincing. And the circles beneath your eyes are not the kohl of warrior paint.”

No. His sleep had not been particularly restful since the sabbat. He tossed and turned, his mind unable to shut off images of her. Harper bathing in the lake. Harper as she first emerged from the tent, as wide-eyed as a frightened doe. Harper tackling him to the ground from a tree. Harper, walking into the clearing with her hand-crafted, mouthwatering outfit for the ritual. Such visuals flashed before him over and over again, along with the free tinkle of her laughter, the gleam in her pale greenish-brown eyes, the woodsy and enticing scent when he pressed kisses along her neck.

“You are there with her even now,” Storell said, disrupting the memory. “So I will not bother to inquire whether you have been distracted by thoughts of this unfortunate maiden.”

Tallisun’s jaw tightened. “Unfortunate? How is she unfortunate?”

“Because she has had you now. Mortal women have told me that once they taste the wonders of lying with a god, they never wish to return from the journey.”

“Meaning what?”

“You have spoiled her for mortal cock, my lusty friend. By revealing your presence, allowing her to feel your touch, you are not the only one who suffers your parting now. She will crave your return.”

“I do not think so. She was the one who hurried me out of the realm when it was over.”

“Truly?”

His lips pressed tight. “She could not say farewell fast enough.”

“Ah. So that is why your antlers are tied in knots.”

“I have none at the moment.”

“Making this even more of a trial.”

Storell walked up to Tallisun, who stood regarding him with tightly folded arms, and punched him in the bicep.

Tallisun staggered back, rubbing the spot. “What makes you bold enough to strike a god of the sabbat?”

“You know what you must do,” Storell said. “All of this is a simple matter to fix.”

“How?”

“Go to her, of course. Scratch that itch and release your ball sac.”

“What, return to the earth realm now, after the sabbat?”

“Why not? It is not as though your ritual involves sealing the veil between worlds.”

“We do not often cross realms.”

“More than you might think. I myself have enjoyed a few earth females in my day. How else would I know of our potent and rather incurable effect?”

“Because you can pass for human.”

“Not what the ladies tell me.”

Tallisun rolled his eyes. “Visiting the other realm is a different matter for those of us whose appearance would raise alarm among humans. Discretion is tantamount, for a vast many mortals would not be pleased to know of our existence.”

Storell waved a dismissive hand. “I have heard the propaganda. And you surely must be aware that such cautions are not always observed, not even by you. Your female is already aware of you, and fucking humans is part of your job description. I should think you above most have the right to cross realms and take advantage of it.”

“I have already performed the ritual. There is no reason to return.”

“No? Who cares whether you wish a repeat performance with the spring maiden? You are not bound to celibacy year-round, are you?”

Tallisun blinked. “I must remain chaste only during the month before the sabbat.”

“Then off you go. Get in a few more ruts, until you are satisfied. Then you can move on from these diverting fantasies.”

That was just it. He was not certain he could move on, especially if he was lucky enough to sample Harper again.

“Father would have a fit,” he said, although his mind was already racing with possibility. “You didn’t see him when he came back from dealing with Dominus after Yule. He wouldn’t even speak. Herne, blustering god of the forest, silent. For two whole days.”

“Dominus was a fool to bind himself to the Earth realm,” Storell said. “You are smarter.”

“And Eradimus fought with Father over the Imbolc sabbat.”

“Tensions were high. The storms caused by his failure to complete the ritual the previous year were of grave concern.” Storell stepped forward. “But you have no such issues. You merely want to see the woman again, wet your god stick. No harm done, is there?”

Tallisun wondered about that. But why not? He could go through the veil. Particularly now, as his appearance was more human than ever. Except for his eyes.

“Humans have something called sunglasses,” Storell said, as if reading his thoughts. “They are darkened lenses that obscure the eyes, altering identity. Stuart the groomsman collects oddities from the other realms. Perhaps you can borrow these glasses from him.” He thumped Tallisun on the top of the head. “Good thing those antlers have come off. Although I should be most distressed if body parts started detaching from me after a fucking.”

Tallisun was too wrapped up in thoughts of seeing Harper again to respond. Could he really do this? What if she didn’t want to see him?

What if she did?

His heart skipped while he and Storell headed for the stables in search of the groomsman. Within the hour, he had his quiver on his back, the veil pendant around his neck, and his thoughts focused on the place where they first met.

He phased and walked into the area near the lake where she had made camp. All traces of her time there were gone, save for the ring of stones marking the campfire that had long since gone cold. He stood near the spot where he had been while she hid inside her tent, warning him to declare himself.

A small smile warmed his face while he thought of that moment. Then he turned and headed through the woods, ducking through narrow gaps between brush and bark with ease now that his antlers were no longer an obstacle. He came to the clearing and stopped, taking in the sight. The area teemed with spring. Daylight streamed down on the altar, illuminating it as an object of honor much the way his antlers were lit in the chamber. The blanket of white flowers were still there, waving a greeting on a soft breeze, releasing their delicate scent and welcoming his return.

Tallisun saw Harper standing near the edge of the clearing, a crown of flowers in her hair, bare beneath the skirt of reeds, but it was only a memory. She wasn’t here. He hadn’t truly figured she would be. He could have focused his intention on her, rather than this place, when he took hold of the veil pendant. With the right power applied to his focus, he would have phased to her current location. But he had been pulled to come here, see again the magic that their ritual had brought forth. And now as he stood in that place, he felt stirrings of power, and the evidence of the magic they had called forth enthralled him all over again.

He used his other sight to view the tree as it had been, tall and unwavering and wise. He wandered closer, basking in the energies that shot up, displacing the rays of golden afternoon sun, shimmering and warm. He closed his eyes, raised his arms, and tilted his head back, no longer encumbered by the weight of his antlers, the weight of duty. He simply stood there, existing in that moment, letting the life force of nature surround and penetrate and inform the god of spring. The more that power filled him, the more he felt the void inside, the spot where he had already made room for a woman he hadn’t intended on knowing more than a single day.

He heard the rustling first, faint, careful steps that did not strike him as human. He froze and opened his senses farther, and he caught the whiff of animal musk.

With slow and almost painful deliberation, he took the bow off his back and slid an arrow from the quiver. Still without a sound, he fitted the arrow in place and raised the weapon into position.

The stag strode with bold steps into the clearing, exerting none of the caution a prey animal should in order to avoid calamity. Was it the same stag he had seen by the lake? The size, the heft of the budding antlers, they seemed familiar. As the animal was upwind, he could almost assume the creature acted this way because he hadn’t scented him. But their eyes met, and the creature advanced. Tallisun’s gaze narrowed as he lined up his arrow with the animal’s chest. Yet the stag kept coming forward, assured and steady, until he stood halfway into the clearing. There he stopped, holding Tallisun’s gaze, waiting.

The god of spring, son of a hunter whose first bow had been granted on his third birthday, stood in perfect stance, knowing from vast experience that the time to let his arrow fly was now. His steady hand flinched as a shaking began deep in his muscles, a quiver that spread to his limbs and unfocused his vision. He drew in a breath, held it, and released the air, but it was a ragged sigh rather than a smooth exhalation. Tallisun blinked and refocused, staring into the dark rounds of wise eyes. Then he lowered the bow.

He stepped backward, hearing a crunch beneath his feet when he dropped himself without ceremony onto the tree stump. The bow and arrow fell softly to the ground. His heart was pounding while the stag took two more steps forward, paused, and then lowered its head and front half in a majestic bow. The gesture of respect lasted a good five beats, Tallisun’s jaw dropped throughout, before the proud animal straightened, met his eyes once again, and then turned to stroll out of the clearing.

Tallisun stared after the stag, his vision blurring from an uncustomary sting of moisture. He sniffed and glanced down at the weapon he had not the heart to take up again. Frowning, he bent lower, eying the scattered pile of white shards around the tree base. He dabbed his finger on one to pick it up.

“Egg shells?” he whispered.

“Why couldn’t you do it?” a voice asked from behind him.

He spun on the stump and let out a breath. “Harper,” he said.

She stepped closer, her hair catching a ray of sun. She wore it loose and free, the way she had for the ritual, though without the flowers that had crowned her most attractively. Beauty still radiated from her, as bright as the light she stepped into. Indeed, it seemed more as if the sun’s rays were reaching forth, eager to touch her own light. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, yet wary.

Halfway into the clearing, she hesitated, and then she, too, bowed to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Hail to the god of spring,” she said. “Or whatever someone should say when they come across immortal deity.”

He rose. “You bow to me? When we first met, I believe you threatened that you were armed. I surrendered to you.”

She smoothed a hand over the tight brown pants she wore. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

His smile fell. “Are you sorry?”

“For threatening you?”

“For meeting me.”

She blinked. “Of course not.” She glanced around. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Incredible.” His eyes were still locked on her.

“I’d wondered whether this part had been a dream.” She wandered closer. “I almost didn’t believe it when I came back and saw the blossoms were still here.”

He nodded. She, too, had returned to the altar to see whether there had been a lasting effect from the mark they had made on the sabbat.

His boots crunched again, and he glanced down. “There were eggs here.”

“That was my fault.” She was close to him now, looking at the ground. “They were hard-boiled. I had my lunch sitting on the stump earlier.”

She was in front of him now, gazing up with those large eyes. “You didn’t answer me before.”

“About what?”

“Why couldn’t you shoot the deer?”

A pang went through him. He didn’t want to talk about the deer, and yet he would say anything, divulge any dark secret, if it meant conversing with her. Even if parts of him were tingling with her proximity, whispering ideas of things he could do with a beautiful woman besides talk.

She sat on the stump, and he sank down beside her. “I am not sure why. I seem to have lost my taste for the hunt.”

“You too?”

He glanced over.

“I came out here to clear my head, try to get back in the swing of things. But I can’t even seem to eat meat anymore, let alone kill it myself.”

He nodded. “It is the same for me as well. I have no idea why.”

“I think I do. In my case, at least.” She gestured around the clearing. “Here is all this beauty, and for a brief moment, I was part of creating it. I tapped into something that’s hard to explain. It was like the power of creation. The life the tree had lived, still vibrant and aware, the flowers blooming, it was surreal. And it affected me more than I realized in the heat of the moment.” She let out a breath. “I guess what I mean is, I connected with the essence of life during your ritual. Now I can’t find it in myself to destroy that kind of essence by taking a life.”

“You have found a deeper meaning and reverence for the power of spring,” he said. “I confess that I, too, discovered something new in our time together. That ritual opened my eyes to a new strength in my calling, one that does not lie in the skill of my bow.”

“I think I understand.”

“I am not certain you do entirely. My desire, my personal calling, has long differed from the duty to which I was appointed. In fact, they were at cross purposes, the sabbat god and he who aspired to become god of the hunt. Now I see I no longer wish to be pulled between the two.”

“I get it. Being both a hunter and a god who is supposed to revere life, well, it’s problematic at best.”

“A problem, yes. But while I have made peace with my duty as god of the sabbat, I find there is a whole new problem.”

“What’s that? Do you feel guilty?”

He tried to say, even if she wouldn’t care. Still, the words got stuck in his throat.

“I feel guilty,” she said, kicking at the eggshells with the toe of her boot. “I have regrets.”

He looked at her. “About the animals you hunted?”

She shook her head. “I don’t mean that. Well, yes, I do have some regrets about that, I suppose. But I meant that I’ve been thinking about the way we parted, and I didn’t want you to think I was chasing you off.”

“Weren’t you?”

“No.” She was looking at her hands, and he watched while she plucked idly at her fingers. “I was afraid that I should hurry up and say goodbye before you had the chance. Maybe so I wouldn’t get any ideas.”

“What sort of ideas?”

“About us. About there even being an ‘us’.” She sat straighter. “I mean, I knew what I was getting into. It was just going to be a quickie. Not that I’ve had a lot of them, but I am an adult. And not the clingy, high-maintenance type.”

He was looking at her, certain that his confusion showed in his expression.

She must have seen, for she folded her arms. “There, I’ve done it. I’ve started babbling, and you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“You are trying to talk about us.”

“I’m trying to say I understand that there isn’t an ‘us’.”

His fingernails dug into the stump beneath him. “Then I suppose there isn’t.”

“Isn’t what?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

She chuffed out a breath and stood up. “I guess this doesn’t really happen to you, since the women you pick for the ritual aren’t conscious.” Her eyes widened. “Is that the real reason you join with them that way? So they won’t want anything when it’s over?”

“What would they want?”

“You. Them. Together. Not just a wham-bam ritual. They might expect you to start a relationship.”

His eyes widened now. Her words, confusing as they were, crystallized for him. His heart began a drum beat as he rose.

“You want us to be together.”

Her eyes widened too. “Me? No. I was just saying that I understand why that isn’t possible.”

“And why isn’t it?”

She blinked. “Wait. Now you’re confusing me.”

“Then let me make it clear.”

He rose and bridged the space between them, taking her by the upper arms. Her eyes had gone wide, and yet they fluttered closed when he crushed his lips to hers. She was stiff with apparent shock for a moment, but when his tongue pushed in, demanding entrance, she melted and responded. Whatever comprehension they had lacked in conversation, his kiss had broken through the barrier.

***

Tallisun’s kiss stole her breath, quite literally, for he was pressed so tight against her lips that her airway was blocked completely. Harper could have cared less, for she was too busy putting her arms around his neck in order to pull him even closer.

She shuddered when his hands swept down over her shoulders, hungry and seeking. She wasn’t sure what any of it meant, not in the long term. But in the short term, he wanted her. If that had been enough last time, maybe it could be enough now.

And it was very nearly enough, if she followed her instinct to focus only on the hard bulge of his muscles, the way his warmth seared her, and the need to pull his head down so his eager tongue and demanding lips could find new places to inflame. Her body and mind were of one accord, which was to get Tallisun to pleasure her to the same heights as before. Her heart, on the other hand, wobbled and skipped and pounded, not just with the thrill of his touch, but with a warning. She could kid herself that even the second time they had made love, it was still just part of the ritual. Maybe they had needed a second release in order to fully expend the vast and potent power they had invoked. If she gave herself to him again, however, there could be no pretense of their passion being a one-time thing. They were no longer engaged in an act that would serve some lofty, greater purpose in the realm of immortals.

Could she manage a friends-with-bennies arrangement with a god? He could pop in at will, enjoy her body, and then go back to his own world—and his actual life. And come next Ostara, if he hadn’t grown tired of her already, would the next spring maiden prove enough of a distraction for him to stop coming around?

Could she deal with there being a next spring maiden?

Her desire cooled, and her hold on his neck relaxed. It took Tallisun a moment to figure out that she was no longer in tune with him, but when he did, he slowly pulled back and looked at her.

“What is wrong?” he asked. “Do you not want this?”

“I do.” She took a step back and hugged her upper arms to steady herself. “I want it too much. That’s the problem.”

“How is that a problem when I am right here to help you correct it?”

“And then what? Disappear back to a realm I can’t see, with no way to contact you? Do I just sit around and wait until the next time you decide to drop by?”

He stared at her with his jaw slack. “Harper, I...”

She held up a hand to cut him off. “I know. You can’t say anything I haven’t already told myself. I’m just being stupid and selfish.” She shrugged and let out a deep sigh. “I guess that’s the truth of it. I don’t want to be fuck buddies with a guy I can’t even text when I’m in the mood for a booty call.”

His quizzical expression, with glazed golden eyes and open mouth, was almost enough to make her laugh. If only she didn’t feel like she’d just tossed away the golden goose because it wouldn’t lay on her command.

The thought made her laugh.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Hardly surprising, because I don’t understand, either.” She tipped her head back and dragged a hand through her hair. “Oh, Tallisun, what am I doing?”

“I fear you are doing something I am about to regret very much.”

“I’m already regretting it.” She looked at him. “Call me a jealous fool, but I don’t want to have sex with you for a while and then send you off to lift the skirts of a new spring maiden next year. Knowing that day is coming would put a real damper on our relationship.”

“You want a relationship.”

“Yep. Go ahead.” She waggled her fingers in beckoning motion. “Tell me how far out of my league I am.”

He was grinning. “We have a relationship.”

She stopped waggling. “Don’t you start making fun of me again. Not about this. I already feel stupid enough.”

The smile evaporated. “You misunderstand. I mean we already have a relationship. We have been together, are together now, and you wish for us to stay that way.”

“And I told you, I can’t do that with a new spring maiden just eleven and a half months away.”

“I don’t want another. You are my spring maiden.”

“Yeah, this year’s model. What happens next time?”

“You will be next year’s maiden as well.” He stepped closer and took her hands in his. “There is no rule that says the Ostara maiden must be a new selection each year. You will be she who helps me call forth the power of spring for years to come.”

His thumbs traced the backs of her hands, lighting off little sparks that shot up her arms. He wanted her to be with him. She almost couldn’t believe she’d heard the words. Year in and year out, together with an immortal.

She frowned when that reality sank in. “There’s one big problem with this plan of yours.”

“And what is that?”

“You will want a new spring maiden eventually. Maybe not next year, maybe not even in five. But when I start getting old and unattractive, you won’t want me shuffling over to the altar with a cane and my granny shawl.”

He let out a clear, ringing laugh that set the birds overhead into an excited twitter. “And is my immortality your only concern?”

“A rather large and insurmountable one, I’d say.”

He shook his head. “Then allow me to ease your mind. There is an...effect that humans experience when they become the consort of a god. It is little known these days in the earth realm, for gods and mortals do not intercourse as much as they once did.”

She cocked her head. “What sort of effect?”

“My life essence, when shared with you as matter of course, will alter your state of health. It will extend your life span.”

“Being with you would make me immortal?” she whispered.

“Not as such. But very well preserved.”

“Talk about friends with benefits,” she said.

She tried to process what he was offering, the monumental life change she was feeling highly inclined to agree to.

He made a face. “Friends? I think not. I have other plans for you, consort of the spring god, that will lie well beyond the realm of friendship.”

She blinked. “And I really won’t age at all?”

“You will, as do I. It will simply happen much more slowly.”

“Now there’s a beauty tip I’m betting my roommate doesn’t know about.”

His expression sobered. “Nor should you tell her. Many humans could not be trusted with the knowledge of what we can offer.”

A flicker of guilt hit. “I’m not supposed to tell Jessica about you? Because I sort of already did.”

“She is aware that you have joined with a god of the sabbat?”

“Well, no. I didn’t put it that way. She would have thought I was crazy if I tried to tell her I was part of a sex ritual with a pagan god.”

He grunted. “And we shall keep it that way.”

“It would take a long time for her to see how well preserved I am, anyway. But she is the queen of nosy, and she will want to meet you.”

“If that is necessary, I am prepared.” He reached into his vest.

She laughed. “Sunglasses?”

“I am told they block the color of my eyes.”

That they did—and they gave him a very human, sexy god-of-rock look to boot.

“Great,” she said. “What will you do when you come inside?”

He frowned and peered at her over the top of the lenses. “They do not work indoors?”

“Only if you’re a Fed or a celebrity. Plus there’s the matter of your antlers. Didn’t you say they’ll start growing back?”

“Within a few weeks.”

“Then we’ll work fast.” Her brain was spinning. “You can come meet her before then. There’s an outdoor cafe we like. You can keep the glasses on.”

“And later, when the antlers have returned?”

“I already told her you live far away. She won’t expect to see you around much if you’re a long distance thing.”

“A long distance thing. I do not like the sound of that.” He swept an arm around her waist, dragging her up against him. “I prefer you much closer, within easy reach.”

Talk of semantics in human-immortal relations ceased when he kissed her this time. She pulled his sunglasses off, dropping them in the flowers at their feet, and held his face while she explored his hot mouth. Hunger flared, silencing all her earlier worries, and she opened herself to the entirety of the experience—his scent, his warm skin, the energy palpable from the clearing around them.

He pulled her toward the stump, but she stopped. “I’d like something a bit more padded beneath me this time.”

She tugged on him then, urging him down, and he took the hint by laying her among the flowers. He caressed her face, smiling down at her until she grew giddy from gazing into those golden, searing eyes, and then clothes were melting away, hands were groping, stroking, his hard erection pressing into her hip while her clit throbbed for attention.

“Harper,” he murmured into her hair.

She didn’t need an explanation. “Yes. Now.”

He shifted his body on top of hers, and she spread wide for him. When he pushed in, both of them groaned, and the sound of relief as well as pleasure was evident. They rocked together, Harper sliding her hands into his hair, feeling the slight nubs that would sprout horns soon, grabbing hanks of his long, silvery locks instead while they made love on the ground of a living forest. The power of the spring ritual swelled all over again, even though there was no sound of the sabbat horn to intoxicate the senses. Tallisun was more than enough, driving into her, slowly making her go mad, digging in harder as she held him until, with a shout, they both came.

He laid there, his cock still throbbing inside her, for a short while before rolling away. She turned to face him, watching his drowsy, pleased expression. She draped an arm over him while he traced the dips and curves of her waist and hip.

Tallisun’s smile faded to something different. He froze, staring at something behind her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Shh,” he said in a whisper. “Look behind you. Slowly.”

She felt a pang of alarm at that, wondering why she had to be quiet and cautious, but she did as she was told. Then she sucked in a happy little breath.

“Oh!” she said. “Hello there.”

The rabbit stood on its hind legs, his ears tall and perked forward. The pale brown fur quivered, and his pink nose twitched with interest at the god who had come to his forest.

“I am not accustomed to visitors who do not run as soon as they are aware of me,” Tallisun said.

“Probably because you would have had an arrow aimed at them.”

“True. Perhaps he senses my change of heart.”

The rabbit lowered himself like a furry little ball close to the ground, pretending to sniff something among the white blossoms while keeping his round eyes focused on Tallisun. Then he stiffened, turned, and hopped away.

Tallisun let out a booming laugh that sounded like every bit of the immortal god he was. He got to his feet and wandered over to pick up his leggings and tunic. She sat herself up, watching while he pulled the garments over his lean, toned body.

Her clothes had landed in a pile beside his, and after a moment, she stretched and sighed. “I suppose I should get dressed too.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “I do not think so.”

He snatched her clothing and backed away.

“What are you doing?” she asked, making a grab for them.

He jerked them aside and held the items aloft while he continued to move back.

“Stealing my clothes again, god of spring?” she asked, hands on her hips. “This is getting to be a habit with you.”

“Staying naked around me should be a habit you never break.”

He headed straight into the forest in the direction of her old camp, jogging away with her clothes held up like a prize. She knew where he was going, and with a grin, she followed him toward the lake.

In the times that followed beyond the Thousand Seasons, local folklore claimed that if one encountered a rabbit or crushed eggshells in the woods near the sabbat of Ostara, they should stop and listen. Chances are they will hear the faint echoes of laughter and feel the spring come alive in the woods, an energy more powerful than the might of an immortal hunter. It is the spirit of spring. The spirit of love.