

DOMINUS: GOD OF YULE

SONS OF HERNE BOOK 1

J. ROSE ALLISTER

Loving Lorayna could cost a god his sacred power...

It is the time of Yule, and Dominus, god of the sabbat, should never have had to spend half the year nurturing the latest light bearer himself. But months of visiting Lorayna in secret, present only in whispers, has sparked a yearning inside of him that he cannot shake.

Lorayna has felt herself drawn to the pagan path by a presence she has been unable to resist. When she discovers her "holiday spirit" is in fact a mouthwateringly sexy god, she's ready for whatever sabbat ritual he chooses. To her disappointment, his intentions are strictly hands-off.

When something goes wrong, Dominus is forced to break the rules and give into his urges before the Yule power consumes her. The ripples of their passion will alter many sabbat unions to come—and Dominus must defy his father, Herne, to follow his desires and prove to Lorayna that she was not merely another light bearer.

Genre: Romance/Urban Fantasy

Length: Around 21,400 words

Copyright © 2016 by J. Rose Allister, Smashwords Edition

Second Edition Publication: June 2016

First Publication: November 27, 2015 (with the title Season of Light)

Cover design by J. Rose Allister

All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by J. Rose Allister

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: You do not have the right to distribute or resell this book without the prior written permission of the author. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred.

# Contents

List of the Pagan Sabbats

Dominus: God of Yule

Acknowledgments

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About the Author

#  List of the Pagan Sabbats

While the rituals and situations created for this series are purely fiction, they are based on actual holidays observed by a number of pagan paths. The eight pagan sabbats take place on or between an equinox or solstice. Dates vary based on the sun and hemisphere. Some pagans consider Yule the beginning of their year, while others begin with Samhain. For the purpose of this series, I used the Northern Hemisphere and Yule as the starting point.

Yule

(Dec 20-23) Winter Solstice, longest night of the year. A celebration of the rebirth of the sun, as the days will now get longer. Yule logs, wassail, and mistletoe are traditional, as is the holly king, who some believe is part of the Santa Claus legend.

Imbolc

(Feb 1-2) Also called Candlemas or St. Brighid's Day. A time when ewes bring forth lambs, meaning spring is coming. Sacred to the goddess Brighid. Candles, St. Brighid crosses, and priapic wands are common associations.

Ostara

(Mar 20-23) During the Spring Equinox. Sacred to Eostre, lunar goddess. Spring has arrived, and new life is celebrated. Eggs, rabbits and flowers are traditional.

Beltane

(Apr 30-May 1) A sabbat honoring fertility. Summer arrives, when the god and goddess consummate their union and conceive life. Dancing around the maypole, bonfires, handfastings, and sexual revelry are common traditions.

Litha

(Jun 20-22) Summer Solstice or Midsummer. Longest day of the year. Said to be a time of high magic, especially among fairy lore. (Remember A Midsummer Night's Dream?) The sun is at its strongest, but will weaken as it gives way to the darker half of the year.

Lammas

(Jul 31-Aug 1) Also called Lughnasadh, after the god Lugh (pronounced: Loo). The first of three harvest sabbats, it is a time to begin reaping what has been sown. Baking bread, corn dolls, and wheat are common traditions and symbols.

Mabon

(Sep 21-23) Fall Equinox. The pagan thanksgiving and second harvest sabbat. Crops are almost fully gathered now, many of which have been stored and turned into ciders, jams, and other goods. Named for the god Mabon, known for freeing captives.

Samhain

(Oct 31) Halloween/All Hallows. Summer is gone and dark days approach. The veil between worlds is thin, meaning spirits of departed souls may cross over/communicate. Apples, black cats, Jack-o-Lanterns, and brooms are common.

# DOMINUS: GOD OF YULE

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A Decision by the Fates

Dominus was unaware of the three beings who were watching him cross over the veil. They bobbed and weaved before the looking glass, their feet hidden beneath robes as they floated above the ground. The fabric swathing the trio was fashioned from the mists of time itself—one robe of emerald, another of amethyst, and the third all in black. The mists flowed out from their pale heads as well, like manes of hair floating on a sea. The misty hair reacted to the nods of their heads while the three Fates saw the god of Yule preparing for a sabbat joining.

"The son of Herne goes to her," said the tallest, Morta, in a hoarse whisper. They often spoke in tandem, but now they were separated. A decision was at hand, one that would turn the tides on an era.

"See how he lingers in the woods?" Decuna said, pointing a gnarled finger. "He has already pulled the ribbon to ring the bells of Yule, yet he tarries."

Large black eyes blinked, and Morta nodded. "He draws out the moment. He knows that his actions have been a folly."

"Have they indeed?" Nona asked, her deeper tone the one that resonated most when their voices echoed in unison.

"The time is now," Decuna said. "The Thousand Seasons will be ushered in when his sun bearer brings forth the Yule light. We must decide whether the fate of the gods will rest in their own hands for another millennium, or whether to use this turn of events to alter their fortunes."

"Are not the matters of life and death enough for us without meddling in love?" Morta said, floating higher. "Let us leave well enough alone."

"Well enough?" Nona shook her head. "How is the fate of Herne's sons well enough? The forest god failed to heed our counsel, and look at what has come of it."

"They lack nothing," Morta said. "The eight sons he appointed to the sabbats have immortal power and a greater purpose."

"But not the one thing they secretly crave," Decuna said, waving a tendril of mist out of the way from her large eye while she peered into the glass. "That which would serve the balance of worlds much greater than Herne's narrow view."

"He is still soured by bitter loss," Morta said. "More than he would ever admit, he regrets the loss of his youngest son's mother. He will move on in time."

"Is not a thousand years enough to mourn the passing of she who bore Archipellus?" Nona asked. "How long must his sons be deprived of a woman's comfort because their father is a hard-headed fool? They are kept separate from their own hearts, sanctioned only to join to women for sabbat rituals that last but a single night. Their cocks are used for their call of duty. They are not allowed to engage their emotions."

"Herne has been allowed to settle in his ways overlong," Decuna said. "Perhaps the only thing that will help him now—any of them—is a nudge of Fate." She grinned, a hag's fecund smile that displayed sharp, and in some cases missing, teeth. "Dominus has already paved the way by taking a personal interest in the light bearer."

Morta's head swiveled unnaturally toward her sister. "And in that I sense a hand that was not his own. One with jagged nails and a twisted purpose."

Decuna's shrug sent a wisp of her gown sailing off into the nether that surrounded them. "I merely saw to it that the usual attendants were too busy with other matters to assist him in nurturing the Yule mother."

"So that he would have to do it himself." Nona gazed around Morta, who bobbed between the others, to get a clear view of Decuna. "A clever sleight of hand you did not share with your sisters."

"I saw no point. If we choose not to intervene, this small adjustment to the state of things would not matter. If we do, however, I have given our will a little head start."

"Which you would not have done had you not gazed into our futures as well," Morta said. "You already knew the outcome of our decision. We long ago vowed never to use the glass to see our own future, but only the fate of others."

"And so we shall." Decuna turned back to see Dominus walking through the snowy woods toward the cottage, his breath puffing out in front of him.

"So be it," Nona said. "Let Herne get the message that he can no longer blanket the realm with the sour cloak of a woman's ancient betrayal. Let that message flow out of the Yuletide, bringing the light of a woman's love to each of his sons."

"And may that message ring loud and clear by the end of the Thousand Seasons," Morta added. "That when it concludes, and all his sons have embraced lovers, that we will be coming for him."

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Dominus: God of Yule

The crisp bite of frost in the air was sharp enough to sting even the nostrils of an immortal, but it was the scent of anticipation that Dominus inhaled most as he strode through the woods. He needn't have bothered approaching this way, on foot through the wild forest. He could simply appear inside her cottage, where it was no doubt warm and welcoming. Still, he preferred to walk the wintry landscape at this time of year, when hearing the crunch of snow beneath his boots and breathing the heady scent of pine sparked a most pleasant ache between his legs. The crackle of ice breaking off a nearby branch was a call to action, the brush of a chilled wind his push toward destiny. The nipples on his bare chest hardened, but not solely from the cold bite across his skin. Most humans marked the change in their yearly calendars on a different day, but Dominus was well aware that this night, the night of the Winter Solstice, would be when he truly brought forth a new year. He and the woman he had been carefully preparing for this moment.

Dominus tied the leather cord of the veil pendant around his neck as he approached the edge of the woods, and there he paused, regarding the cottage close by. He flexed his long fingers, working the stiffness from the chilled digits even as another place on his body hardened. His doeskin leathers constricted the cock lengthening against his thigh, so ready for him to coax the female into bringing forth her light.

He raised a forearm near his face, the bracelet that had been carefully wound with red ribbon in and among and between the carved leather leaning against the nearest pine tree while he observed the cottage for signs of activity. He had rung the bells already, pulling out the ribbon and holding the circle aloft before his crossing to declare the hour of the sabbat. He had silenced the silver bells before phasing to this realm, lest the sabbat bells be heard by mortals near the forest. The hour grew late on the eve of Yule, but many humans celebrated all season with festivities lasting late into December eves. Some, including those who kept the old ways, marked the return of the sun by staying awake all through the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. They held vigil until the break of dawn, proclaiming in the physical world what Dominus would achieve in the metaphysical. Another season of light, brought forth by a meshing of souls—one from each realm. And to spin the wheel of another year, Dominus could not simply choose any soul he wished from the earth realm. She must be one who was impregnated with the light of a Beltane fire.

His father, the god Herne, had appointed eight of his sons to be overseers of the pagan sabbats, gods who were tasked with the sacred duty of keeping the realms united, but separate in the waxing and waning of the veil dividing the worlds. Through solstice and equinox, through seasons all, each son performed their specific role to keep the wheel of the year turning. And in an unprecedented quirk of fate, the female Dominus would claim was the virgin that his brother, Jorandil, had united with on Beltane in the act required to seal the thinning veil.

It was no requirement that the earth woman need mate with a god on May Day in order to conceive the light that would restore the balance come Yule time. It was more a matter of chance, and a rarity at that. Much like the act of human procreation, the right combination of timing and energy was required, though in this case, a blend of solar and lunar energies. Precious few women captured the sun's Beltane energy during sexual revelry, and it was his job to identify and claim such a one. She would become the Yule mother, bringing forth the sun on the longest night of the year.

He lowered his arm. What was not his job was nurturing that female throughout her time of confinement, nourishing and sprouting that light through summer and fall until it was ripe and ready for his plucking. But this year, that was exactly what he'd done. The Counsel of Sabbats had the usual attendants busy with other missions this year, leaving Dominus no choice but to interact with the woman he would ordinarily be destined to know for only one night. So, he had visited her cottage every week, lending his own energy when her spirits sagged, giving gentle nudges of mystical encouragement to use the proper herbs, intent, and intake of meat, harvest fruits, and ale to keep her body pure and stoke the energy within. And week by week, he'd seen the results of his attentions. Her cheeks flushed to a healthy glow, her skin, hair, and eyes gave off a joyous shimmer, and her spirit had buoyed into one of joyful anticipation. Along with it, she had blossomed into the temptress of his desire, and now, his body heated whenever he pictured her.

The god of Yule, playing lady's maid to a woman. He could just hear his father's bellow of laughter, tossing back his antlered head, if he found out about that. As it was, Herne had been buried in planning a series of hunts to commemorate the start of The Thousand Seasons. Thank the heavens for small mercies.

Dominus turns his thoughts to his last visit to her, how he had stood at her bedside, asking for her final consent to the ritual. After her agreement, right on the cusp of sleep, he whispered ancient secrets while her hair spilled across her pillow and her round curves beckoned. His male need flared into a sharp ache at her beauty, and how he longed to plunge his fingers through that silken hair, run his tongue over every sultry dip and swell on her body. He never touched her—he could not. He had stayed overlong on that final trip, for he knew the time had come. A time he both longed for and resented, when his visits to her, unwanted though they had begun, would be at an end. A lump in his stomach punctuated the thought.

A figure passed by the sheer curtain drawn halfway across the front window, and his pulse quickened.

Lorayna.

He heard the name dance through his thoughts, and try though he might, he could not wave it away. He typically preferred not to know the names of the women whose light he released. There was little point in it, for he would not see nor know anything of the females once his mission was complete. For their part, the women would know nothing of him, either. Most humans were blissfully unaware that their world sat tightly against a realm of immortals and magic, nor did they care to know just how much their gods were still at work to this day, walking the woods, tending to fields and lusty lasses, and generally keeping the balance of their worlds at peace. And so, the gods who could not pass for human hid their presence.

Laughter rose to his ears, and he drew back instinctively behind the cover of trees. Humans would not see him while he wore the veil charm, rare few, anyway, but best not to chance it. The door to the cottage opened, and several people spilled out, happy and carefree and followed by a waft of alcohol that was apparent to his keen, supernatural senses. Then there she was, Lorayna, standing in the doorway with a wide smile that tightened Dominus's chest. She wore a pure white sweater, oversized and yet clinging to her ripe figure, and while she chatted to her departing guests. She tucked a silken strand of dark brown hair behind one ear, revealing blue and silver bells that tinkled on her earrings. They jingled when she nodded and laughed. Her lips, painted pink and glossy, caught his eye, and he found himself staring at how they puckered and released with every syllable she spoke and the way her long, well-manicured nails had been painted to match. His cock throbbed in earnest, already impatient with the guests who were lingering far too long at the threshold for his tastes. He was eager for their time together, yearning to see his months of attention to her physical and emotional well-being come to fruition.

One of the males leaned close to kiss Lorayna on the lips, and a swell of unpleasant heat rose in Dominus's stomach. She was not his, of course, and thus, he had no cause for jealousy. His own brother had been with her back on Beltane, after all, and she would no doubt sleep with other men in the future. Perhaps many. But she had kept herself pure since May Day, because she knew deep down that she was fated for no other until Dominus helped her birth the light his supernatural eyes saw shining inside her even now. The sun's energy pulsed from within, a bright, glowing force like a singular joy that was at the apex of its power. He alone would bring back that light, coaxing it from her in an explosion of climax. She would feel exquisite pleasure as she returned that energy to the universe, followed by a temporary sense of loss he likened to what a woman might experience when her womb emptied after birthing a child she carried. Lorayna would recover quickly, however, unaware of her crucial role in the wheel's turn of the coming year. And come next Beltane, he would begin his search for the new mother of the sun.

The overly attentive male turned to a man beside him and laid a suggestive kiss on him, complete with a sweep of the tongue while squeezing his ass. Dominus relaxed his fists. So, the male had other inclinations. Good.

"Try not to be a stranger," the other male said with a flourish. "You are far too radiant to keep hidden away, locked up in a cottage in front of a computer."

"Make a New Year's resolution to come out into the world more than once a month," said his partner. "Promise."

"It's not New Year's yet," she said.

"Before you know it."

"I just can't believe it's already over," Dominus heard Lorayna saying to the two men who were now holding hands. "I've felt such a strong holiday spirit this Yule."

"Christmas is still a few days away," the other man said. "It's not quite over yet."

Those perfect nails raked strands of her hair smooth, and she glanced over the man's shoulder until she was looking straight at Dominus. "Of course. It just feels different tonight, is all."

Tingles raced through Dominus while he held her gaze, though he knew she did not truly see him. At most, perhaps, she was aware of what was by now a familiar presence. As her dark eyes penetrated him, however, he began to wonder. He reached up to finger the pendant lying on his chest, reassuring himself that it was indeed still there. The leather cord was firmly tied, and the crystal vibrated slightly. The crystal, forged in his realm directly from the power of the veil between worlds, was what hid him from the humans who would otherwise wonder about the strange-looking man in their midst. Several of his brothers bore the same pendant so they could not only phase freely between worlds while remaining secret from those his father believed would not easily accept their presence. That was the fate of most of the brothers who had inherited rather inhuman characteristics.

She waved farewell, and as she watched her friends depart, Dominus saw a troubled look cross her brow. The smile he hadn't realized was on his lips fell. She turned and went into the cottage, closing the door behind her.

The time was now, he knew. She was as ripe and ready as she would ever be, and the universe needed the sun's light to renew itself for the season of longer, brighter days. His feet stayed still, however, unable to move for several prolonged moments. He envisioned their act as he had done so many times over the past months, picturing the moment of her release the way he had seen it for a thousand Yules before. He held great regard for those women the universe chose to become the mothers of midwinter, bearers of the sun. But he forgot their faces soon after he left them to return to his own realm. It would no doubt be the same with Lorayna, even though he had spent months preparing her.

***

Lorayna picked up random bits of evidence that holiday merrymaking had come to her living room—glasses, crumpled napkins, and scattered plates with smears of dip and crumbs remaining. One side of the kitchen sink was already full of soapy water, and after depositing everything to soak, she wandered back out to the empty room. Silence burned in her ears louder than Jeff's laughter after three cups of spiced wine. The fireplace crackled, breaking up the utter lack of sound that set her teeth on edge, but she still felt the void that clouded her usual sunny mood.

The flames waved and danced as she stood by the fire, letting it warm her face while she wondered what all her anticipation and preparation had been about. She glanced up at the one plate and goblet that she had not yet removed, both untouched and sitting on the mantle beneath the mistletoe. Antoine, Jeff's life partner, had commented on the odd placement of the green bundle. "It should be hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room, sugar doll," he'd said, eying the mistletoe. "How's anyone gonna get under that for a holiday smooch?"

She hadn't bothered trying to explain she hadn't hung it for illicit use. It was a special touch dangled directly above the food and drink that had been left out as a symbolic offering for a visitor who had not come to the party.

With a sigh, she took the carved goblet from the mantle and emptied it into the sink. She returned to ladle a fresh, warm serving into it. She poured herself a cup, too, and drank deeply from her serving after putting the other back on the mantle. No one had asked why she had set out food and drink up there, nor had anyone suspected that they had not attended a "Christmas" party, per se. It was four days until that holiday, so her friends did not realize that she had actually invited them over for a different celebration altogether. It was the eve of the Winter Solstice, and she was bringing in the Yule rather than waiting for St. Nick.

The heat of the fire worked its way beneath her sweater, and she pulled the knit away from her perspiring body. For months, she'd been gripped with inexplicable curiosity about pagan lore, and she had explored aspects of celebrations like the Yule sabbat so she could observe the date on her own. Why exactly, she couldn't say. She'd been prodded by thoughts planted in her mind, whispers that had not been her own. A man's deep, seductive whispers.

She had felt the presence of some power greater than herself, turning lonely nights into the promise of a brighter and richer existence. A grand destiny seemed unlikely for a woman who worked long hours from the office at her home, rarely venturing out of the cottage except to go into town for supplies, meetings, and monthly get-togethers with her friends. Still, her spirit had been uplifted these past months, some of which she attributed to her newfound interest in the old ways.

Yule celebrations dated back quite far, according to her research, much farther back than Christmas. On the Solstice, pagans burned the Yule logs and kept vigil through the longest night of the year, greeting the dawn as the sun returned to bring longer days and the promise of spring. She had a Yule log on the fire, wassail in the bowl, and she was ready to greet a new dawn.

"So, what's missing?" she said aloud. But she already knew.

The presence, the sense of being nurtured and watched over, wasn't there. She had responded to the silent beckon, the male voice and the heady scent of winter pine that accompanied it, by preparing her cottage and observing the Yuletide. Yet now that she had obeyed, it seemed that she had been left behind. Her "holiday spirit", which to her had been something more than the inexplicable sense of peace, joy, and anticipation, seemed to have vanished on the very night of the celebration.

"A bath might help," she said, and she carried her wine glass into the bathroom with her. The tile felt chilled beneath her feet as she slipped out of her heels, kicking them into a corner with an unsteady grace, thanks to the effects of the wassail.

She glanced in the mirror, trying out a smile on the tired face she saw staring back at her. That's all she was feeling. Fatigue. The alcohol, the party, the rushed preparations—all had simply taken a toll on her mood. She would bathe, bundle up, and prepare to roast marshmallows, listen to music, and watch the sun rise. It would be her own little Yule ritual, quiet, respectful, and well in keeping with traditions observed for countless generations. And if she murmured a prayer or two about her hopes for the coming year, maybe she would hear something in return beyond silence.

Thoughts of him, that voice that murmured like silk, brought a smile to her lips. If she was alone, there was something else she could do in the bath—something that even now she felt herself growing more receptive to. A twinge of yearning began low in her belly, and an erotic pulse beat began a pleasurable rhythm between her thighs. Yes. It had been a long time, hadn't it?

"A little Yule ritual will help boost the old holiday spirit," she said, and anticipation began a slow burn.

***

Dominus stood at her door, thinking of the Yule bells and how loud and crystalline they had rung out before he had crossed over. The god of Yule had run the bells to declare to the universe his intent to "ring in" the season, and it had been a joyous sound to behold. Now, a telling silence drifted across the winter night. The world had fallen quiet in anticipation, weary and waiting for the renewal and rebirth celebrated each Yuletide. He paused on the threshold, peering through a window flanking the door to the cottage. She had decorated for the season, and he had been there while she had done it. Most humans who joined in seasonal revelry used commercial representations of the holidays, but Lorayna had chosen a natural, rustic scheme that pleased him. The tree, along with swags of pine garland and the front door wreath, had been decorated with holly leaves, berries, and pine cones, all harvested from the nearby woods. As had been the Yule log now burning in the fireplace, burnishing the room with a golden glow.

His heart quickened when he took hold of the crystal, focusing on its power. Backed with pure silver, the crystal normally did not touch his skin directly until he took hold of it. Doing so allowed him to phase briefly between worlds, and he stepped right through the solid door without opening it.

He dropped the pendant and glanced around the living room. His heart quickened when he saw the offering on the mantle—a goblet of wine along with cheese and cake. A small bunch of sacred mistletoe hung above, consecrating the offering, inviting him in. Quite correct for the occasion, and a smile crested his lips. So many of the bearing ones no longer observed this tradition, even when something inside niggled at them to do so. Lorayna had thus far performed perfectly.

He crossed the small space to examine it closer. He caught the spiced scent when he leaned toward the goblet. Wassail—and still quite warm, judging by the moist steam rising to his face. She had replenished the offering recently. His stomach growled greedily as he sniffed at the offering, for he had fasted two days prior to meeting with his female. He left the meal untouched, however. Eating or drinking in this realm would, as legend had it, keep him rooted in the Earth world forever. He would break his fast only after performing his duty and phasing back through the veil.

He caught sight of his own reflection in the glass of the oval mirror hanging above the mantle. His eyes glowed with an ancient light, firing the icy blue of his gaze into a wild look of seduction. His hair was spiked with frost, yet the holly leaves sticking out from each side were vibrant green and untouched by the cold. If his eyes weren't enough to necessitate hiding himself from humans, there was the splash of deep blue that fell over his neck, shoulders, and biceps. The birthmark, his father said, was the mantle of winter, a message to Herne that this son was destined to be overseer of the winter sabbat.

The sound of running water caught his attention, and he turned toward it. She was drawing a bath.

"So, my fair sun-bearer wishes to give birth in the water," he said to himself. "Most unusual."

He moved down the hall, following the aroma of spiced wassail along with Lorayna's own sweet scent, to the bathroom. Lorayna, who was still fully clothed, was brushing out her long, dark hair. He came up behind her, his image in the mirror visible only to him. His own immortal light burned brighter these days, it seemed, perhaps by proximity to her. Either way, their auras shimmered like sparkling crystal in the looking glass.

She paused, holding the brush over her crown without stroking it, when he drew near. He was so close now, closer than he should permit, close enough for her to feel that immortal life energy pulsing off him. Close enough for him to feel her heat as well, and he basked in the light she could no longer fully contain within her lush body. Her hand slowly lowered to her side, and she was staring at herself while he moved in closer still, smelling her hair, relishing in the feel of his body responding to hers. His cock strained, begging him to press its length along the perfect curve of her ass. But he did not touch her, not just yet. It was forbidden until the bearer was ready.

The exact manner varied year to year, but the ritual was always the same. The woman, whose spirit and subconscious had consented in advance, would sense the time had come to bring forth the light. When she felt the presence of the god who would aide her, she would enter a semi-trance during which she would disrobe and pleasure herself in full darkness. This signified the world in its darkest moment, seeking the return of the light. He would assist her hands until she came, releasing the light, and he would work her orgasm until he had milked out every bit of that energy. Only when she was fully sated would he take his leave and, likely, release himself in private. Sometimes he did so soon after, moved by the power and sanctity of the ritual. Other times he waited until after he had broken his fast with food and drink.

Her expression was unreadable as she stood there, staring into the mirror and holding the brush at her side. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, and then again. Her focus shifted, and there it was again—that disorienting sense that she was looking right at him.

"There you are again," she said in a faint whisper. "I feel you."

He blinked and stepped back, his heart racing most unnaturally for a god. She could not see him, of that he was certain. She felt him, though, and that was both possible and necessary for the light bearer, for she would be cognizant enough to give consent. Really, any human who was enough in tune with their surroundings could sense the energy of an immortal's presence. For her to speak aloud of it, though, to speak to him—that was most unusual.

True, he had been around Lorayna quite a bit—more than was perhaps necessary. But what could he do? Her light burned so bright, and greater light needed greater nurturing. He'd come to her weekly, as was traditional, and then twice weekly. Then three times. Perhaps she would have managed well enough without him at her side almost daily by the end. Dominus, on the other hand, hadn't fared as well when they were apart. She would linger in his thoughts, distracting him from the mundane tasks of the day.

His back was pressed to the bathroom wall now, and yet she kept staring over her shoulder. She set the brush down on her gleaming white counter and turned.

"What is that I feel?" she asked. "What are you?"

He glanced over at the bath, which was at risk of overfilling now, the steaming water rising higher along the sleek sides of the tub. Lorayna was sniffing the air, her delicate nose uplifted to try and catch his scent. He swallowed when she took a step closer.

"Maybe it's just the holiday spirit," she whispered.

Lorayna turned away, and he let out a breath. A holiday spirit indeed.

When she left the room, he didn't follow, but just stood there watching the water continue to rise toward the edge. Had he disrupted her focus to the point where she would forget the bath until the water spilled out over the floor? Would he dare risk intervening? He moved closer, weighing the decision. She might become frightened, disturbing her inner light and the mood necessary to bring it forth, if she thought some "holiday spirit" had shut off her bathwater.

The light switch snapped off, and the room fell into darkness. Not complete darkness, however. Dominus's jaw dropped when he looked up to where Lorayna stood in the doorway, bearing a single white candle. She had disrobed, and for the first time, he saw her naked and magnificent. His cock stirred to immediate attention, even knowing he would not truly get to sample her, and his breath grew shallow.

Her breasts swayed invitingly while she hurried over to turn off the water, and bending over the faucet presented to him the silken, ripe curve of her ass. He was close enough to touch her, to release himself from his trousers and take her right over the edge of the tub, but he shook the thought away. Giving into such primal male urges was out of the question. This was a sacred moment, and his calling an ancient trust.

She set the candle on the counter and twisted her hair up into a bun on her head, revealing the slender grace of her long neck. A metal clip secured her hair off her neck, and she did so while facing him, her round breasts full with pink nipples pert and erect. The hair between her thighs was darker than on her head, and he felt a small ooze of dampness around his cock at the thought of sliding between those soft curls.

Unable to help himself, he moved closer, inhaling her scent, basking in the light within her and the heat of her creamy skin. He could touch her, explore every inch, and she would never know. She would sense his energy—indeed, it was clear she already had—but would be unable to actually feel his hands, his mouth.

His throbbing cock demanded that he make her his, and not while the power of the veil hid him from this realm. He wanted her to feel his touch on a physical level, ache for it, ache for him. Most unsavory thoughts for a sabbat keeper to entertain in the middle of his ritual, and he shook them off.

Still standing there in the glowing candlelight, bright enough for him to see her dark eyes focused on a spot very near his own, Lorayna slid a hand up over her belly to cup her own breast. Pinching the nipple brought it to a firm peak. The shockwave of desire she no doubt felt slammed into Dominus as well, and without thinking, his hand slid down to rub the hard ridge along his pants.

Then she stopped with a frown and reached for a towel near the sink. "I can't do this," she said, wrapping the towel around herself. "Something's not right."

Dominus gaped at her. Never before had a consenting female refused to give up her light. The aching need to release that energy had to be overpowering by now, in the hour of bearing, driving her to pleasure it out of herself. Such was a vital response, for no human could contain the light of the universe within her indefinitely. Lorayna had to let go, had to let the power loose, in order to spare her mortal body the storm of that energy fighting to free itself.

A weight hit his stomach as he contemplated what it would mean for his beauty to deny herself that release. He had to prevent it.

"There's something here," she went on in a slow whisper. "What is it? Who is it?"

His pulse fluttered. That was one thing he should not do, not even to save her from herself. While some of his brothers appeared human enough to move freely in this realm, mating however they chose, he was not one of them. Showing himself, and offering proof that gods still walked the earth, was not something he should do.

"Please," she whispered, and the request speared through him. "I need to know I'm not crazy. I need to know I'm not just imagining that this holiday season is different."

Guilt clutched at his stomach at the angst in her voice.

"I never even celebrated the Solstice before," she went on, "but here I am, talking to thin air while burning a Yule log and leaving out offerings of food and wine. It is you that I sense, isn't it? The one I left the offering for. You've been watching over me."

He resisted the urge to clear his throat, for while she might not be able to see him, she would hear any sound he made. Perhaps she could hear the pounding of his heart already. Perhaps that was why she persisted in trying to reach out to him.

"But then, it can't be you," she went on. "I was silly enough to go out there just now and check the mantle I grabbed the candle from. My offering is still sitting there untouched." A tiny laugh escaped her. "What did I expect? There isn't really a holiday spirit. Or maybe the offering wasn't good enough?" She let out a breath and stared down at the bathwater, which was glistening in candlelight. "Or else I'm not good enough."

She reached for the towel, but before she could disrobe again, he stepped forward. "Wait. Don't."

Lorayna gasped and spun around. "Who's there? Who are you?"

Sweat beaded on his brow as a slight dizzy sensation overtook him. Was he really about to do this?

The wild panic flickering like the candlelight in her eyes decided for him. He reached up and yanked the leather cord around his neck, pulling off the pendant and tossing it to the floor. He appeared to her immediately, he could tell by the widening of her eyes as they fastened on his.

She took several steps back, still watching him, and flipped the light on. "Who?" she said with a quiver in her voice. Then, eying him up and down, "What are you?"

The "what" stung a little, but he couldn't blame her. His appearance was the reason he'd been instructed not to reveal himself to humans.

"I am Dominus, son of Herne. I apologize for my appearance. I know it must be horrifying to you."

She cocked her head and eyed him up and down in a way that sent small jolts of power through him. "Not horrifying. You startled me. Is that paint on your shoulders?"

"It is a birthmark." He paused. "A mantle signifying my destiny to become the god of the Winter Solstice."

"A god," she mouthed, hugging the bathroom doorway closer. "Son of Herne. As in thee Herne?"

He nodded. "My father is god of the forest. I am one of many sons, some of whom oversee the pagan sabbats."

"So, you being invisible isn't some government science project?"

"That was done with a veil pendant." He nodded to the necklace, which still pulsed with light as it lay on the floor. "It allows gods to walk among humans without scaring them."

"But you decided to scare me, and you succeeded." She pulled the towel tighter. "You spied on me naked."

"I stopped you before you removed the towel." He leaned back against the wall, considering his words. He could omit the rest, but he opted for full disclosure. "I did see you a few minutes ago, but I was unprepared for you to walk in already disrobed."

Her swallow was visible. "Why are you here?"

"Did you not invite me? You left an offering."

"One you didn't touch."

"I cannot eat food from the earth realm. But the gesture was correct and much appreciated."

"I'm not even sure how I knew to leave it out." She straightened. "It was you, wasn't it? It's been you all along, influencing me. Teaching me. My sudden interest in herbal lore, candles, and pagan holidays wasn't just a random phase."

"I have been overseeing the seed of power inside you. I've whispered to you how to use herbs and intent to nurture and grow that light until Yuletide, rather than allow it to wither and dissipate." He paused. "Now that time has come, and I am here to help you give birth."

Her eyebrows rose, disappearing under a playful fringe of bangs. "Birth? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not pregnant." To demonstrate her point, she ran her hands over the towel, pulling it tight against her flat stomach.

"Not with child, as such. But ripe and ready to bear fruit nonetheless."

"If it were your business, I would mention that I'm still a virgin. Pathetic as that may sound."

He paused. "Not...metaphysically speaking."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He risked a step closer. "You conceived on the eve of Beltane's fire, taking the seed of the sun's energy into your body during the sabbat when the sun nears the apex of its strength."

Her mouth fell open. "I can't have. I don't remember doing any such thing."

"You wouldn't, considering it was one of my kin who was your partner that night. My brother."

"What are you trying to say? I was deflowered by an invisible god? How many more of you have there been?"

"None. And it is most unusual that he and I both happened to have chosen you, Lorayna." He was inching forward, but stopped when she tensed up.

"And you know my name. Of course you do." She turned to face the mirror with a sigh. "Assuming I'm not insane or dreaming, how can you prove all this?"

"I have the power to show you what I say is true. If you wish to see it."

She hugged herself, and they stood there, staring, until he wasn't certain what to do. So he waited.

***

Lorayna's head and heart were pounding. She'd known something—or someone—had been around her for some time now. But maybe she'd been better off not having a man pop into existence and confirm her suspicions. Even if he was inhumanly beautiful. Inhumanly. Yes, that definitely fit, didn't it?

"Fine," she heard herself say. "Do it. Prove that you're telling the truth."

Dominus moved behind her, and she stiffened when he brushed her shoulders. "Don't be afraid," he murmured.

"I'm not. Your hands are cold."

"Look at yourself in the mirror. Look at yourself through the mirror."

"I don't know if I can."

Still, she raised her eyes. The tired woman was gone. Her eyes were wide with wonder and startled amazement. It was him, she knew it was. His very presence charged through her with a surge of energy, like bringing Frankenstein's monster to life. And now, she was putting him to the test. Or maybe she was really putting herself to the test, checking to see whether she'd gone mad.

She stared at herself, and though it took a minute, she felt pulled into the mirror, a sense that her vision had gone blank. Dominus laid his fingers against her temples, moving close against her. She was barely aware of his face beside hers in the looking glass, and she saw him close his glowing, ice blue eyes. Images flashed in the mirror, whiting out both their reflections. She recognized her bedroom, her lying half dreaming, half awake. Then he came. Not Dominus. Someone else.

"He is Jorandil, son of Herne," Dominus said. "My brother and keeper of the Beltane sabbat."

The man shared little resemblance with his sibling, other than the fact that both were obviously not human. Both were muscled and beyond gorgeous, but Dominus had short, pale hair that was spiked with a bluish frost. Jorandil had flowing white hair, glowing silver eyes, and more important, massive white wings to match.

Lorayna gasped. "I remember him," she said. "He was in my dream."

"It was no dream."

And she felt the truth of it. Jorandil had whispered to her late at night, asking explicitly for her consent in joining with her for the rite of Beltane. She had consented of her own free will, in a rather determined and un-virgin-like manner, as a matter of fact.

Her cheeks burned as a brief part of the interlude that followed played in the mirror, how Jorandil had moved over her, and she had parted her legs for him...

"Okay," she said. "I get it. But I don't remember that it happened. I was sleeping."

"You wouldn't have felt him. No pain, no pleasure. Only the truth of your consent, and the subconscious knowledge that you were part of a vital ritual to our realms. That is why you seek the old ways, Lorayna. Your own mind sought to understand my world even before I came to you and whispered of it."

More pictures came, however, but these were of Dominus. He visited Lorayna, often late at night, when she would be in a deep sleep and only aware in her subconscious that the voice of a god whispered to her of figs with cream, spiced oils, and herbs of hawthorn, mint, and chervil. She wondered whether he smelled the heady aroma of frankincense she had anointed herself with, and whether he liked it.

"So then it was you," she said. "All along. I've felt a presence around me, often at night, but lately it's happened during the day."

A flicker of what might have been guilt flashed in the intensely beautiful gaze reflected by the mirror. "It was necessary to help nurture the light you conceived," he said. "So that when the time came for that energy to return to the universe, it will have grown into this."

He gave her sight a little push, opening her eyes for a moment to the way she must look to him. The light shone around her, tiny rays sparkling against the edges of her skin and glowing within her. She radiated energy, with small, pale wisps straining to escape, much like solar flares bursting off the surface of the sun.

So much radiance and energy. No wonder she had felt so vibrant.

"Oh!" she gasped, but it was a quiet, awestruck thing. "It's beautiful."

"You are beautiful," he whispered in her ear, and she felt a slight shiver in her shoulders. "And it is time now for the universe to receive back the light it imbued you with, so that we may bring forth a new season."

She turned herself this way and that, exploring this new sight. "This is why I've felt so full, so happy. I thought it was just that I had an extra special amount of holiday spirit this year."

"And so you have."

"But it started months ago, all summer and through the fall. And it was comforting to feel that presence touch me at times. To feel you touch me."

He released his supernatural connection with her, and her vision of the light faded. He turned her to face him then, pushing a strand of hair from her face. He leaned closer, rocked on his feet, and nearly pressed his lips to hers. She parted her lips, waiting, hoping for his kiss, but he blinked and stepped back. She would have been quite happy to let him to do it, but judging by his expression when he pulled away, he didn't share the feeling. In fact, he appeared a bit stunned. Too bad. She had a rather automatic and growing urge to give into him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."

"You didn't do anything." Unfortunately. And her tone made that disappointment plain enough.

"It is forbidden. You must not be sullied before releasing your pure, innocent light."

Steam from the bath had dampened his skin, pasting baby tendrils of hair around his face. His cheeks glowed with color as he gazed down at her, his heavy eyelids and full lips so achingly seductive. Okay, so he couldn't spoil her beforehand. What about after?

"I'm not sure I can give up the feeling, though," she said. "I don't think I'm ready."

"You are ready," he said. "And there is no choice in the matter, I'm afraid."

She sighed, aware that the tangy spice of wassail followed on her breath. "What do I do now? I don't know how to release light."

"Yes, you do. It is instinct." He glanced over at the tub, and she did too. The steam was already dwindling on the bathwater. "What did you want to do right before you sensed my presence?"

"I was about to take a bath."

A smile curved up one side of his face as he gave a slow shake of his head. "That is not all." He leaned closer, almost enough for her to dare him to lose his resolve by kissing him. "Your instinct was pushing you for exactly what was necessary. What were you aching for? What did every inch of your body long for you to do while you were soaking in that tub?"

How could he know what she'd been thinking? Had he seen her touching herself?

Her face grew hot. "I'm not sure that's your business."

"That is not only my business, but my duty. For you to give birth to that sunlight, you must give yourself over to the most profound release of energy a human can experience."

She blinked. "And you planned to help yourself to me while I did? While staying invisible, without me even knowing. Just like your brother."

"Those who bear the Yuletide sun are aware of a presence and are accepting of it. All except for you, that is. You insisted on seeing who was attending you before accepting me." He stepped back and raised his arms. "And so here I am."

Her eyes ran over him, and the assessment fell somewhat short of mere innocent curiosity. She pictured him standing there, watching her masturbate in the tub and joining in with her none the wiser. A flash of anger shot through her at the thought that she'd almost been deprived of knowing the god of Yule himself, he who embodied every erotic fantasy she'd ever had.

"Would you have, you know, had me without me ever knowing?"

"My 'having' of anything is not what is required here. I merely lend my energy to yours as you extract that light."

She eyed him for a moment. "You lend your energy." He nodded. "So, to put it plainly, you stand by and help while I masturbate myself to climax?"

Her stomach heated at the frank sexual way she was able to talk to him. Yep, her virginity had clearly escaped when she hadn't been looking.

Dominus gave a single nod. "Midnight approaches," he murmured. "The time is now."

"What if I don't do it?" She lifted her chin. "What if I want to keep this light with me?"

"You cannot deny the universe what it needs to bring forth another time of seasons."

"The universe has lots of energy."

"Not like this." He took her hands, which trembled slightly. "Help me, Lorayna. Help me succeed in the task that is my sacred trust. The birth of the sun is a ritual celebrated across many traditions, a metaphysical necessity to maintain balance."

She looked at him for a moment before letting out a sigh. "All right, then. I'll help you. Or should I say, I'll let you help me."

She could do this. She wanted to do this. Still holding his eyes, she stepped back, pulling at her towel. When it fell away, her heart skipped. She had not merely wandered into an empty bathroom without any clothes on. She was disrobing for a god who, despite his rather annoying resolve to stay away from her, had a deliberate, wanton desire flickering in his pale eyes. As she glanced downward, she noticed other signs that his interest was growing—rather large, in fact, and right between his legs.

Dominus's eyes took a heated tour of her curves, enough to catch her breath in her throat. The lust blazed in his eyes the way she felt the light burning inside of her, and she ached to bathe the universe in that power, while at the same time regretting the fact that she would have to let go of it to do so.

When she was certain he might act on what seemed obvious between them, he dropped to his knees before her in reverence, bowed his head, and whispered words in another language. Her eyes widened. The words made no sense, yet filled her with wonder and respect for a god who would bow to a mere human woman. He didn't need to say as much for her to know he was whispering a Yule blessing over her. When he was finished, he looked up at her and nodded.

She turned and stepped into the bath, and he took her hand to help steady her on the way. After lowering herself, she reclined there, aware that her full breasts were bobbing just above the level of the water, and rested her head on the back of the tub. Candlelight flickered with urgency now, as did her pulse, while her shaking hand slipped beneath the water to begin its work.

Could she stare into those eyes, so intense, while her fingers probed her pussy curls? A vestige of modesty shot through her, and she closed hers instead. A need swelled in her that was more primal, more insistent than she had ever felt. Did all his women respond this way while he guided them through the Yule ritual? How many had there been?

Her ardor slipped a bit at the thought, at knowing that she was only in his sights because of the light inside her, not because he truly wanted her. She would do his bidding, and then he would leave her forever.

Her fingers stopped moving, and her eyes popped open. She avoided his gaze, however. She stared at the beads of water slowly dripping from the faucet.

"Where have you gone?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry. I told you, I'm not sure I can do this."

"You must. The light cannot remain inside you forever."

"And you won't stay with me once I let it go."

There was a pause. "Perhaps it was a mistake for me to reveal myself."

Now she looked at him. "Whether you know it or not, you revealed yourself the first time you came to me. I've been aware of you ever since." She popped a bubble on the surface with her fingernail. "Do all your women get this performance anxiety?"

"All my women?"

"How long have you been doing this?"

He blinked. "I was appointed god of Yule when I came of age. This year marks the millennial, the Thousand Seasons."

Her mouth fell open. "A thousand women? Plus whoever else you've taken as lovers in between." She sat up, splashing him a little. "Are you married? Is there some hot goddess waiting for you to come home from work? Because that's all this is, isn't it? Your job."

Why was she acting like this? She didn't even know this man. This being. Yet she was actively trying to stick her hooks in him, get him to admit that there was something between them outside his sacred duty to the universe. How ridiculous. Shameful.

He knelt beside her. "I am unwed, a necessity for a sabbat god. I can only tell you that my focus has been on you since the day after Beltane. And you are the first woman I have ever attended and prepared for the ritual myself. Such is normally handled by attendants who serve the Counsel of Sabbats."

Her heart skipped at that, and she met his eyes. "What made you decide to prepare me yourself?"

His gaze penetrated deep, until all she could draw were shallow breaths. "It was necessary. The attendants were busy with preparations for the Thousand Seasons."

"Oh." She sat back again. Her body flushed, she saw, her skin red even though the bath water was not that hot. She was heating up inside. The power in her was rising, begging to be free.

"Lorayna," he said, and the way he whispered sent a shiver over her fevered skin. Her nipples hardened at the very sound of her name on his lips. "Please."

The power in his voice took over, and her eyes closed. With a sigh, her muscles unwound, and she gave into his command. She was barely aware that she arched her back with her legs spread. Both her hands reached down, stroking her sex, and desire grew. The need for release pulsed like a living thing, and her breathing labored while she worked herself.

She heard a small moan, and it was not from her. She opened her eyes to see Dominus's lips were moist and parted, and his breath was coming faster now, shallower, prompting her to rub herself harder.

"Kiss me," she said.

She saw the flicker in his gaze. "I cannot," came the hoarse reply. "But I can offer you this."

He laid his hands over hers, lending his energy to her own, and helped guide her fingers to dip inside her wet pussy and slide up along her clit. She gave a grateful groan and slipped lower in the water. One leg was draped over the edge now, and she could see Dominus gritting his teeth, beads of glittering perspiration on his forehead while he pressed his groin against the side of the tub. The light inside her burned brighter, hotter, while her motions grew jerkier and more fevered.

"Please, Dominus," she managed. "I need you."

She saw him waver, but he closed his eyes with a shake of his head. He guided her hand faster, pressing harder on her clit, feeling the energy in the room build, ready to explode and complete the ritual.

"Open your eyes," she said. "Just look at me with those incredible blue eyes."

He did what she wanted this time. "Let go, Lorayna. Bring the light."

Their gazes stayed locked until she could no longer hold back. She was caught in a hopeless spiral that drew her in until there was nothing but Dominus, nothing but the light and the pleasure and the god who was calling it forth.

Lorayna caught her breath, bit her lip, and stiffened. She tried to hold back in that last moment, wanting to extend this time with him, savor every throb of exquisite desire before giving in to the inevitable, but it was too late. With much effort, she kept her eyes on him while the climax made her cry out. Muffled through the lip she was still biting, the sound filled the room and orgasm swept her away. Dominus didn't let up, however, and together they kept rubbing her pussy, milking out the spasms of pleasure that would erupt into light any moment now.

Water sloshed over the edge of the tub while she writhed in ecstasy, grinding her pubic bone against both their hands and moaning like a wild thing. But no light came out of her, nor any sense that she had lost anything, except perhaps her mind.

***

Dominus pulled back and rose, with some issue considering the stiff bulge in his pants, and stared down at her.

"Did it work?" she asked, panting as she sat herself upright. "Is it over?"

His pulse pounded through his veins. This was wrong. There had been no blinding release of power as it flowed out to the universe. When her motions slowed, he used his other sight to see that she burned brighter than ever. She had held onto the light after all.

Dominus shook his head. "The light still clings within you. You did not release it."

The notion rattled him. Never had this happened, not in all his years overseeing the Yuletide. He hadn't even imagined it possible.

"Perhaps it was because you wished to keep the light," he said, more to himself. "You fought against letting it go."

Her dreamy smile faded. "No, I promise I didn't. I tried to hold back at the end, but just because I wanted the pleasure to last a little longer. I gave myself over, really I did. You just saw the truth yourself. I didn't exactly have any inhibitions."

Thoughts whirred through his mind in panic. This couldn't be. Everything had been done to ensure success—and then some. With his encouragement, she had used the herbs, nurtured the light, even set out an offering and hung the sacred mistletoe, inviting his presence. The ritual had taken place in water, which was a bit unusual. Still, the water element shouldn't have had any effect on the outcome. The only other difference this time was a major one.

He had shown himself to her.

He frowned. That alone should not have interfered with the rite. Long ago, in the time when humans had full knowledge of the gods who walked among them, such rituals took place with the women quite aware of who they were giving themselves to. Lorayna had accepted his presence, or else she wouldn't have so readily indulged in pleasure. So what had gone wrong?

She rose from the bath like a siren, water streaming over her stomach and down her thighs. "What now? Do we try again?"

"I do not know. This has not happened before."

Lorayna stepped out of the tub, and again, Dominus's hand shot out to steady her.

"Maybe you should take a more active role this time," she said.

His chest tightened, but he shook his head. "That is not permitted."

She shrugged and picked up her towel, wrapping herself in the fluffy white cloth. "Neither is me keeping the light. But I guess I get to have it after all."

He took hold of her upper arms. "You cannot. Understand this. No human can contain that amount of sun energy within them forever."

A flicker of fear registered in her gaze, even more so than when he'd first revealed himself.

Dominus let go of her, feeling a stab of guilt at the red marks his grip left behind on her flesh. "I apologize. I did not mean to alarm you, but we need this to succeed, for a few reasons."

Without another word, she turned and strode from the room. He stood there, staring after her, not sure whether she meant to return.

Oh, this night was rapidly unhinging his rational senses, hardly a normal reaction to a ritual he had performed for a thousand seasons. True, watching women pleasure forth their light held a certain thrall, and he would often spill his seed soon after returning from helping a bearer achieve climax. But watching sultry Lorayna with her eyes closed, arching her back with her legs spread while in the throes of self-pleasure, a swell of emotion had overtaken him that he struggled to contain. He had been lucky to make it through the ritual without losing control of his seed, let alone trying to make it back to his realm. A teasing whisper had echoed through his mind, taunting him for not responding to her request that he kiss her. Selfish need urged him to pull her beneath his body, slake the months of desire he'd felt for her. If only she knew how badly he'd wanted to give her what she wanted, show her what she had come to mean to him. She was not just another sun bearer, but a woman he longed to hold in his arms, plunge himself inside, and declare his own.

For that was the truth, there was no denying it. Attending his female had been a fool's errand, and every visit, every extra glimpse he had granted himself, had only doomed him to crave more of her. He didn't merely want to ensure a successful passage. He wanted her. Every word of the ancient recitations that he'd uttered to welcome the light had held an echo of personal longing in them, making mockery of ritual. The words were a lie.

He pulled away from his thoughts when she did not return, and he followed his curiosity to the hallway. There, he found the towel abandoned on the floor just outside the door to her bedroom.

He had been in this room before—on numerous occasions, in fact—but this time he entered with a wary caution. Or rather, he stopped short just inside the doorway when he spotted her. Lorayna was lounging naked on her bed, lying on her side facing him. The dip of her waist and gentle swell of a hip was clearly visible, but she had cleverly tucked the blue coverlet against her so that the rest of her feminine allure was hidden. All except that luscious mouth, of course, curved up into a smile that magnetized. And those dark eyes, so knowing—too knowing for a woman who was a virgin from the touch of human men.

So many times had he come to her while she lay in this bed, innocent and dreaming. Now he knew exactly what she wanted, something he had only allowed himself to imagine in moments when he had no strength left to resist. Every inch of him wanted it, too, and his cock strained in such tight desperation that he felt the prickle of sweat break out over his body.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"Waiting, and not at all patiently. What took you so long? I'm getting cold." She rolled her hip forward and pressed her groin into the mattress. "Touch me, Dominus. Warm me up."

"That is not how the ritual is done."

"Screw the ritual."

He blinked at the words. His balls tightened, all too eager for him to do just that. But he had to stay strong. She was considered a pure, sacred being, as much as a human could be, until she gave birth to the energy now churning like a maelstrom inside her. Tendrils of that light snaked forth in a wild dance now, adding a coronal glow to every curve and each strand of her hair.

"Please hurry," she said, and the gasp she let out mid-sentence gave away her anxiety. She could sense it, he knew, feel how the light was growing, pushing its way out, needing her to release it and spare her body the suffering that immense power would cause.

His feet were moving toward the bed, and when she gave him a victorious smile, he growled and tugged the coverlet flat, exposing her to his hunger. Her nipples were already peaked and waiting, and he ached to pull them into his mouth one by one and graze them with his teeth until she cried out for more. He was losing it, and part of him didn't even care. He wanted her.

He loved her.

A shiver passed over him, a rare thing for a god whose greatest power came during the chill of winter. He pushed his pants down, feeling the torturous thrill of soft doeskin sliding over his raging erection. Lorayna sucked in a breath at the sight of him, his cock purpled and ridged with veins as it pointed straight at her. She reached for him, but he evaded the touch that might well drive him into insanity and instead, slid onto the bed beside her.

He didn't mean to do it, not any of it, until it had already happened. His lips were on hers, seeking the depths of her mouth with his tongue. She gasped and responded, pressing her body to him, enveloping him with the power of Yuletide sun, burning them both with passion and hot need. His hand slid down her waist and around to cup her ass, kneading the smooth, supple flesh while he pulled her tighter against him. She ground her pubic bone against his erection, and he grunted like a forest animal rutting a female shamelessly inside her den. That was what he was doing, wasn't it? What the hell was he doing?

Dominus broke off the kiss, leaving her panting. "I'm sorry. Forgive me."

"I don't want to forgive you. I want to fuck you."

He made a fist to keep himself from grabbing her. "Stop toying with me, Lorayna. I cannot take your purity until you complete the ritual." He swallowed at those words. He shouldn't take her at all, not even afterward. It was not how things were done. But he knew they were beyond such restraint now.

"I did complete the ritual, and it failed. The truth is, I'm not even cold. I can feel the heat rising in me. It burns, Dominus. I'm scared."

"So release it. Let me help you."

"Help me feel what it's like to have a man inside me. Now, before it's too late."

"I'll spoil you."

"I'm already spoiled." She ground against him and took hold of his cock, squeezing it until he moaned in frustration. She put him between her thighs and slid him back and forth along her pussy lips. "I have a confession to make to my god," she whispered, dry fucking his cock. "I've felt you with me so many times at night, and it made me long to become a woman. Your energy, all that male power, made me dream of you. I hung the mistletoe in hopes of that masculine power coming to me again. I dreamed of a god taking me in his arms. But you, the real you, is even sexier than my fantasy."

He groaned and pulled her on top of him, kissing her until his lips burned with Yule fire. With what he knew to be the most final of his mistakes with Lorayna, he reached down to move his cock head against her wet, slick entrance. Then slowly, he pushed inside of her.

The power was raging now, every inch of her aglow with the sun's own aura. It was too late, and his heart pounded with the knowledge that he was about to lose himself inside her before losing her forever. She would perish with that energy, and it was his fault. He hadn't been able to help her release it in time. He would be forever doomed to relive this memory, sliding deep inside the sun before it destroyed the woman he loved. Or perhaps he wouldn't have to remember it. Perhaps the fire would take pity and consume them both.

Despite the dark turn of his thoughts, he could not stop his body from taking what it wanted from her. He thrust his hips upward while she pressed down, letting out guttural moans that were part pleasure, part pain, but grinding her body harder, faster. Her breasts bounced over his face, and he pulled her closer, taking in a nipple and sliding his tongue over the hard bud. She stiffened and called out his name. He felt her nails dig into his shoulders, and the stinging burn was not merely from the sharp points rending his flesh. Her fire entered his body through the broken skin, scorching him, but the heat drove his lust for her higher.

Her eyes were aflame now, no longer dark, but lit with white-gold orbs like miniature suns. She pulled one of his hands around to grab her breast and kissed him again, wild and free as a winter storm, and he fucked her faster, feeling the inevitable build, knowing he was about to spill inside her.

Lorayna stiffened up and bit down on his tongue, and as the searing pain mingled with the tang of blood, she reared back and let out a yell. She was climaxing now, and he was right with her. His eyes closed while his balls emptied themselves well within her depths, overtaken by pangs of incredible ecstasy. Release washed over him while he felt the white-hot heat, and he could see through his closed eyelids that the world had exploded in brilliant light.

He shouldn't have opened his eyes then, but when he did there was nothing but golden fire around them. He could feel Lorayna, knew her weight was still on top of him, but he could not see her through the surge of energy. Never in a thousand seasons had he been witness to such power, such majestic fire in the birth of Yuletide. Without even seeing it, he knew that the whole cottage would be ablaze with the energy of a great season of light coming forth to greet a new year.

Suddenly, her weight was gone, and his heart wrenched sideways in his chest. Had the power taken her, reduced her body to nothing? Was she no more than a memory to the universe now?

"Lorayna?" he called out. "Lorayna!"

The soft, peaceful sigh in reply came from beside him, and though his vision was still awash in light, he reached out and felt her on the bed next to him. He let out his own sigh and gathered her in his arms, nuzzling her neck and stroking her. The energy was thick and alive while he ran his fingers through her hair, drawing out the last bits of power. The light began to dim, and his sight returned gradually, making out details of the room and the woman nestled beside him, resting a delicate hand on his hip.

"I think it worked," she whispered after a time.

He couldn't help the laugh that spilled out of him. "I would say so."

She snuggled closer, and his heart pounded. "I guess I just needed more of your direct attention to be able to let go."

Perhaps so. He had attended her himself all these months, adding his energy to her own. Maybe that was why his body had been the key to unlocking her power.

Lorayna appeared limp now, and he could sense that she was completely spent and exhausted. This was as it should be, as it would be for any woman who had just travailed to bring forth life. He had to admit, the power of that release had taken a toll on him as well.

Lorayna's breathing deepened, and just before he knew she had drifted off to sleep, she murmured, "I love you, Dominus. Thank you for being the one."

His eyes widened, staring out into the darkness while she slept against him. He contemplated those words, coupled with the depths of his own misguided steps throughout her preparation, until the first light of a breaking dawn paled against the bedroom window.

All over the worlds, in this realm and the next, those who kept the old ways were bearing witness to that dawn, bowing to the sun, dancing, and rejoicing over the return of the light half of the year. Yet none would truly understand what had taken place, or what it had just cost the god of Yule.

With a pang that soured in his gut, Dominus eased himself out from under Lorayna's sheets. He pulled on his pants and went in search of the pendant, which he found in the bathroom. The necklace dangled between his fingers on his way back down the hall, where he spotted the towel she had dropped outside her door. He picked it up, holding it while he watched her sleep. The small, contented smile playing on her lips tugged at his chest. Her profile became clearer as the dawn brightened, as did his resolve. He had no choice.

Dominus hung the towel over his shoulder while he tied on the pendant. With one final glance at the beauty curled under the coverlet, he swallowed a thick lump and took hold of the veil charm. Then he phased out of Lorayna's existence.

***

There was an interesting blend of sensations when higher brain function began filtering back into Lorayna's thoughts the next morning. Her body ached in strange and new ways, evidence that the previous night's dream had been anything but a figment of her subconscious. Even her face ached, and as she came to with her eyes still closed, she realized she had been smiling in her sleep—and apparently for some time, judging on how sore and stiff her jaw felt. A numbing fatigue covered her as thickly as the blanket she had pulled up to her chin. Another sensation hovered just out of reach, a warning that her awakening might take a darker turn if she thought too closely about the state of things.

Then it hit her. She was lying in the middle of her bed, not scrunched off to one side with a certain pair of arms around her.

She popped open one eye, which was pointed in the direction of her bedroom door. The room was still, too still, without even the telltale sound of breathing to give away the existence of anyone in the room. No presence lingered, no touch of pine scent. The thick layer of purpose she had sensed for months no longer hung in the air.

"Dominus?" she said quietly.

She didn't expect an answer, nor did she get one.

She pushed herself upright, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she looked around the room. She was alone, in a palpable sense that hadn't happened to her for some time. Not since Beltane, when her life had apparently been turned upside down by a decision she'd made on the cusp of a twilight sleep.

Sunlight blazed through the curtains, announcing the return of the sun whose rising she had missed. She had done her own Yule ritual, celebrated the light of the sun in a way she had never dreamed. She had given Dominus what he'd wanted, and now he was gone. The dawn of Yule was over, and so was her time with the being who no longer saw any use for her. The god of Yule had left her without so much as a "Thanks for helping the universe."

Pulling herself out of bed took some effort, between the soreness in her limbs and the weight of nothingness dragging behind her. There was a void, a spot deep in her gut where there had been the undefinable fullness that had bolstered her spirits throughout the summer and fall. It was the light, she knew now, that had grown and filled her with joy. Now it was gone.

How could emptiness feel so heavy?

She was still naked, and she wrapped herself in the handmade floral bed quilt and walked to the bathroom. The floor was dry when she entered, but the tub was still full. She hadn't bothered to drain it. She had been too busy throwing herself at a god who had toyed with a thousand women, give or take however many more. Yet she had done the unthinkable. Maybe Jeff and Antoine were right. She spent too much time alone, working at her computer in the tiny cottage left to her by her grandmother. Maybe if she spent more time out with her friends, meeting guys for casual dates, she could have dumped her virginity long ago. Then she wouldn't have caught the interest of not one, but two pagan gods who used her before vanishing into the nether. In which case, she probably wouldn't be ready to snap the hairbrush handle she was gripping tightly enough to whiten her knuckles.

A crack sounded just outside the window, and she whirled. "Dominus?"

She went to the window and cranked the old handle, nearly twisting her wrist with the effort as the frosted pane creaked open. A tree limb reaching toward her had shed a clump of ice, which hit the ground. More crackled under the insistent warmth of the sun.

She heaved a sigh and wandered over to plunge her arm into the frigid bathwater. She pulled the plug on the bath and hopefully on the disastrous adventure that had been her foray into the world of pagan lore. She had expected so much more from the journey, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered why. She had been raised without much in the way of spiritual beliefs, and she had survived just fine. At age twenty-one, she had her own cottage and a job that paid well with little commute time or rat race. Yeah, her love life was a vacuous black hole, but so what? She had friends she talked to online, over the phone, and even saw every now and then. Sure, they pestered her about being a hermit, but she was her own boss. She had time on her hands, though less than she probably would if she didn't put in so much overtime on billing accounts. A hobby, that's what she needed. Not a man in her life—she'd had enough of that for a while, sort of. She had to find something to wash away the memory of her humiliating behavior the night before. A date, maybe. Get back on the horse she'd never ridden.

Her wet arm throbbed with cold, and she glanced around for a towel to dry it with. A quick memory flashed of the last time she saw it, and clenching her teeth, she headed back to the hallway. The towel wasn't where she'd dropped it, nor was it in the bedroom.

"So, the hotel guests are stealing the towels now," she said aloud, too loud for her own ears. But she knew he wouldn't hear.

She yanked on clothes with extra venom, nearly ripping the belt loop on her jeans in the process, and headed for her office. Papers were piled on the desk, printouts of billing and emails stacked on both the in and out boxes. A phone sat near the computer, and she headed for it. She should start a new chapter in life, one by which she did what she wanted because she wanted to, not because a god was whispering ideas in her ear.

Staring down at the receiver, she made that pact for herself. She'd do it today. Wouldn't that surprise the hell out of Jeff and the others? Two social engagements in two days?

"Lorayna Woods, coming out in society at last," she said. "Gentlemen, start your engines."

She reached for the phone and paused. Maybe breakfast first. Or at least some coffee. Then she'd put the old Lorayna—and Dominus—in her rearview.

***

It was the dawn after the New Year—the one many humans marked, not the turn of the wheel Dominus had brought forth eleven days prior—before Herne returned from the first in a series of hunts commemorating the Thousand Seasons. It would be a season of culling and recruiting, honoring the end of an era and ushering in a new age. A concept Dominus knew all too well, but he detached himself from thoughts of it. He was too busy trying not to think about what he was doing standing at the veil bordering the edge of his property, the pendant in one hand and a certain white towel in the other.

"Son," came Herne's booming voice from behind him. The god of the forest never arrived without making an entrance, and he rarely made an entrance without a thunderous amount of noise. "I have been seeking you to have a word."

Or many, as was often the case with his father. Herne was a powerful god, and he expected powerful things of his offspring. Particularly the sons he had tasked with business involving the realms.

Dominus kept his back turned. "Greetings, Father. I trust the hunt was satisfactory."

"Not as satisfactory as your bringing of the Yuletide. I have heard little else than talk of the extraordinary power brought forth to mark the Thousand Seasons. And I am told that you yourself prepared the sun bearer for the birth." There was a pause. "However did you manage it?"

Dominus's pulse skipped, and he gripped the cloth in his hand tighter. "Not by my choice. Attendants were busy all year making preparations for Thousand Seasons rituals and celebrations."

"Perhaps you will have to teach them how to attend the next light-bearer, considering your results were most exemplary."

He winced at the mention of a new light-bearer. How could he consider it when he could not forget the last one?

"You are too generous," Dominus managed.

"Hardly. Even I, whilst sitting by a dwindling campfire way out on the edge of the dark forest, bore witness to the light. I was most impressed." He heard Herne's boot steps draw closer. "So a father must wonder, then, why his son does not seem nearly as content with his victory as does the rest of the realm."

Although he didn't trust his expression to remain passive, Dominus forced himself to face the man behind him. Herne's eyes were a burnished golden-brown, unlike Dominus's pale blue, and were focused narrowly on his son. He peered out from beneath lids that had been smeared with kohl, top and bottom, the way he often did before going on the hunt. Antlers jutted out from the sides of his head, divided into many branches that had been wound with holly to mark the season that had just passed. His tanned, muscled flesh showed none of the marks of age, yet his face held the carvings of many eons of wisdom.

"A father wonders about his son, or a high god wonders about his appointed servant?" Dominus asked.

Herne's lips curled down slightly. "What is this about?" He glanced down at his son's hand. "And why do you stand at the veil bearing the pendant charm? You need not concern yourself with the Earth realm until May Day, when you will select the next sun bearer."

Dominus felt his skin heat, particularly about his face, and he could not help but flash back on the sear of Yuletide fire he felt when his body was pressed to Lorayna's.

"It is not often that I see a flush of warmth on the blue skin of a winter god," Herne went on. "You are holding something back. Tell me what it is."

"Does it matter?" Dominus lifted his chin as he eyed his father. "The Yuletide is behind us, while seven more sabbats lie ahead in the Thousand Seasons."

"What matters is that I have commanded your obedience, and you have chosen not to give it." Herne stepped closer, and Dominus felt the sheer power of a hunter—no, a warrior—surround him under his father's scrutiny. While Dominus could be something of a foreboding presence to those not expecting it, Herne bringing his power to bear was not something easily withstood—even by another immortal.

"Why were you preparing to phase through the veil?" Herne repeated, and the boom this time lacked any of the gregarious warmth in his greeting.

"I wasn't," Dominus said, wondering whether that was really the truth. "Though I confess I may have been considering it."

His father waited, and a cloud of threat hung over the silence.

Dominus raised his hand, which was still clutching the towel. "I took this from the other realm. I meant only to return it."

The lie was weak, and he knew it. Risking a glance at his father's measuring gaze, he could see as much. Herne was no fool.

"I think the Yule mother can do without one simple drying cloth."

Blood pounded in Dominus's veins. His father would never understand. Dominus himself didn't understand. He just felt the truth searing him like Yule light. He would never again be with the sun bearer—that was, the only one who mattered. Lorayna. And every minute since they'd been parted, that fact burned hotter inside him until he was ready to explode.

"If I could just see her," he said. "Make certain she is all right."

"Why would you concern yourself? Was there some problem with the ritual?"

"There were...complications."

"Did the energy damage the human? There was certainly an excess of it. Did you not ensure she was free of all traces of the light before taking your leave?"

"I did, and she was."

"Then there is no need for unease. By now she is just fine."

Dominus heaved a sigh. "She may be." He glanced away. "But I am not."

His father strode forward, took hold of his son's chin, and twisted it this way and that, examining him. "I see no signs that you retain residual energy, though I'm not certain how you would accumulate any in your role. Forget this human and come join me at the Rebirth Feast."

Dominus pulled away. "Forget?" The word spat out on a cloud of bitterness. "I cannot forget her, Father."

"Of course. We revere and respect she who is the sun-bearer."

"I do not merely revere her. I love her." The confession slipped out without warning, but there was no denying it now.

"Love? Love?" Herne's brow buckled dangerously. "Surely you can't be serious."

"And why can't I?" Dominus paced in front of the veil. "Do I not deserve the happiness others take for granted?"

"Happiness? You are the god of a sabbat, a position that affords you respect and purpose."

"Which is not the same thing."

"But with a human female?"

"With a woman I myself attended for months." He paused, but only for a brief moment. "This is the longest we've been apart."

"Surely not."

"I was with her numerous times per week since Beltane."

The silence in his father lasted longer this time. "That is far more often than necessary for a mere attendant."

"You said my results were exemplary."

"And just what did your methods of preparation involve? Just how 'with' this female have you been?"

Dominus stopped pacing. "I think you know the answer to that. But it only happened once, on the night of the Yuletide."

"After she bore the light, I presume. Because you were so caught up with the power of that particular birth."

"We birthed that light together. Her and I."

He felt almost as shocked to admit it as his father appeared to hear of it. He pointed a weathered finger at Dominus. "You sullied the Yule mother?"

"I united with the woman I love, but only after she insisted, and only then because she could not release the light. The ritual was failing. She would have perished if I hadn't done what I did."

His father closed his eyes and just stood there.

"I told you there were complications."

"Complications that will now extend through the remaining seven sabbats of the Thousand Seasons."

"I don't understand."

The eyes reopened looking tired, yet blazing with indignation. "Do you understand that you broke the cardinal rule about keeping the sun-bearer chaste? Did you never wonder why such a rule exists?"

He had, indeed. The eight sabbats all involved an act of sexual union between the two realms, a joining to symbolize and embody the balance between earth and immortal, male and female energies. Yet of all the sabbats, his was the only rite that required that act to be one-sided, without the full involvement of the male partner. Without him.

Dominus cleared his throat. "I presumed it was because the energy would not come forth purely otherwise."

"Which is, in essence, true. But the energy you released this time is pure—purely erotic. Sexual energy, potently male and born of what you misguidedly claim is love, sent out to the universe on the wings of a sabbat." Herne shook his head.

"And what of it? Do not my sabbat brothers do the same?"

"They do not. Each of the rituals involve certain similarities, but all achieve their own ends. Yours sets the wheel of the year in motion, son. Yours is a special destiny."

Dominus sighed and folded his arms. "So you have been telling me all my life."

"And yet you appear not to have listened. You are responsible to send forth the energy that catalyzes an entire year's sabbats, harvests, and all that is life. And now, with the influence of your emotions and your lustful male greed, we will likely see ripples and side effects throughout the coming year."

"I was unaware of such a result." Not that it mattered. Flashing back on that moment, the decision to pull her beneath him, he likely would have done so whether he'd known the consequences or not.

Herne shook his head. "It seems we are in for a wild ride. I daresay the realms are already feeling the results of your own handiwork, including you. That is why you find yourself in this state."

Dominus felt his fists clench at his sides. "I have been feeling this way for some time now. Too long to blame on whatever I may have unleashed by joining with Lorayna."

Herne eyed him for a moment. "Time and distance will cure you of that. Come, we are expected at the feast. Many are eager to congratulate you on a memorable Yuletide—including a number of stunning goddesses who are perhaps influenced by the power you have unleashed. Perhaps one or more of them can aid you in putting thoughts of the Yule mother behind you, which is where they belong."

Herne headed away, but Dominus stayed put. Was that all it would take to forget? The time and distance that had put all other females—in this realm and the next—so solidly in his past?

His father turned back just in time to see his son tying on the pendant. With a few choice words ringing in his ears, Dominus focused his intention on a particular location and then phased through the veil.

***

"You can do this," Lorayna murmured. "You can dial a simple number."

She sat in the comfy wing chair by the living room window, her cell phone in her lap. The tick tick tick sound was not from the old grandfather clock, which she'd forgotten to wind days ago, but the fingernail she tapped on the windowsill. Her manicure was chipped, largely by her own nervous fiddling. In her other hand, she twirled the mistletoe bundle that no longer hung above his offering.

Without turning from the view of an overly bright winter afternoon, she could feel that offering behind her, still sitting on the mantle like an absurd homage to a night she should have chalked up to a huge mistake. The plate and goblet called to her, insisting on an answer for their presence. The back of her neck prickled, and she sat forward to look around the brown upholstered wing of her chair. The mantle appeared normal, for the most part, though the remnants of holiday were still evident. The plate and goblet weren't doing anything special, although their very existence there was certainly not normal. She could almost convince herself that like other things around the room, the offering had sat untouched since the night of Yule. But a curl of steam rose from the goblet, giving away the depth of her foolishness.

She sat back and glanced down at her cell phone. She should return the call. She should have picked up the call in the first place, really, rather than stare at the display like a demon was about to burst through the glass. The call had gone to voice mail, but she hadn't bothered to listen. The display had told her it was David calling.

The guy had seemed nice enough the night she'd dragged herself out to meet her friends. At Jeff's prodding, she'd given David her number. He hadn't called before today, although he'd texted her the following afternoon. Enjoyed talking to you, the message had said. I'll call you later in the week. How polite of him to give advance written notice of his call, like the enemy sending a warning shot across her bow.

David. David Sterling. David Anthony Sterling, accountant. She tried to picture kissing him, imagined David kneeling over her in the tub while she masturbated for him. Watching her not with ice blue eyes capable of sending her heart into spasms, but with pale browns that lacked the hunger that would drive her to do things she never pictured herself doing. She plastered an image of his square, unassuming face over that of Dominus in bed, lying beneath her as she rode him with hard, fast thrusts while watching the way an odd, supernatural glow in her eyes were reflected in his.

With a sigh, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, feeling a throb in the center of her forehead. She'd be better equipped for a rebound romance if she wasn't so drained. If she'd still been possessed by the infectious joy that lit up her life, she'd be in a better mood to deal with the dating game. Now, that energy was gone, carried off by a greedy universe to use for its own purposes. She went back to twirling the mistletoe while wondering what she would do with it if she saw Dominus again. Would she stick that mistletoe over his head or jam it in his mouth?

She inhaled deeply through her nose, stopping when she caught a whiff of something. The pine scent—had she imagined it? She breathed again and again. It was there, and not coming from the boughs and tree that had gone brown and dropped their needles. Still with her eyes shut, she broadened her awareness of the room. The feeling began in her shoulders, a pressure-like energy emanating from somewhere around her.

"Dominus," she whispered. "Is that you?"

She stood abruptly, pushing the chair backward.

"Show yourself to me," she said. At Yule, she had managed to zero in on his location, so that when he suddenly winked into existence, they were already eye to eye. This time, however, her gaze darted this way and that, searching everywhere to figure out where he stood. "Coward."

For a fleeting moment, panic filled her, and she feared she was only imagining him. Maybe, in making herself think of another man in his place, she'd conjured up a fantasy where Dominus returned to stop her.

"Please," she said, and the desperation in the tone nagged at her. "I can feel you."

The dull thud hammering against her skull picked up the pace.

"I am here," came a reply moments later—and from much closer than she'd expected.

Her breath caught, and she jerked backward, pressing against the window. "Where? Why won't you show yourself?"

Dominus appeared out of thin air not three feet away, his hand clutched around a pendant lying against the wash of blue on his bare chest. He let go of the shimmering stone and met her wide-eyed stare. There they were—the blue topaz eyes that lit with a fire that bolstered her pulse. The smile that came along with them faded. He wore a similar, but darker pair of snug-fitting suede pants from the first time she'd seen him, paired with matching boots. His pale hair had been slicked back, and some sort of crown made of holly arched across the top of his head from ear to ear.

He glanced down at the mistletoe in her hand, and she laid it on the windowsill.

"You came back," was all she could think to say.

He nodded. "I wanted to ensure you were faring well."

Hot anger boiled up. "Faring well after what? Nearly being consumed alive by supernatural energy, or being screwed and dumped by the Yule god?"

He recoiled physically from the sharp spear of her words, which were venomous enough to rebound and sting her like a slap in the face as well.

"It was not intended the way you describe."

"You didn't intend to screw me, or dump me?"

"Stop saying it like I used you without your consent. You were aware of what was taking place." He took a step closer. "In fact, you initiated some of it."

She leaned against the window and folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Yeah, you were the innocent in all this. Tell me, did I give some kind of unconscious consent to become this great mother of light? Did I ask to be your consort for some Yule birthing ritual I knew nothing about?"

His jaw tensed. "No. You were chosen out of the rare few who conceived the seed of light."

"Chosen by you. You chose to use me, then leave me."

His nostrils flared. "I did not choose to know you first. If I hadn't attended you myself, if I hadn't..." he broke off with a sigh. "None of this would have mattered. We both would have moved on by now."

Her pulse wobbled at that, and she stared at him. "Haven't you? Moved on, I mean."

"I'm here now, am I not?"

The bile that had just been receding welled up again. "Why? To make sure your guilty conscience is clear before you go off and pick the next target?"

"Because I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you again."

Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe. "Don't say things you don't plan on doing anything about."

"I'm saying the truth." He turned and walked to the mantle, the icy fire in his gaze meeting the one reflected in the mirror. "And you wanted to see me again. That's why you replenished this offering when all else from the season lingers here, neglected and dying."

She glanced around at the wreckage left behind by her sudden disinterest in cleaning. With little grace, she sprang forward at him, but only to yank down the dried garland hanging from the mantle. Needles pricked her palms, and she dropped the garland and rubbed her hands on her jeans. "I only left another offering because I was being stupid. I thought I was different from the rest. I thought I deserved better than waking up to an empty bed in the morning."

"You do deserve better." He moved closer, toying with a strand of hair that hung loose to frame her face. She had a sudden pang of self-consciousness and wished she'd done more than toss her hair up in a messy bun.

"You shouldn't have even had to be consciously aware that I was with you," he went on. "I'm sorry that allowing you to know me has caused you pain."

Goose bumps erupted everywhere—absolutely every where—while she stood frozen, watching him play with her hair. "You're sorry you got to know me."

"That is not what I said. Only that by showing myself, I caused you pain. I regret that."

"I suppose that's something, at least."

"But not what you hoped for in my return."

She snorted. "Not even close."

She slid her hand along his forearm, up to where he wound the delicate strands of silken hair around his finger. She closed her hand around his, stopping him from playing with the curl. From playing with her. "Do you think of what it was like when we were together? Is it always that way with the women you choose?"

He gave a small shudder when her fingers, quite of their own doing, caressed the cool skin on the back of his hand. "No. It has never been that way before," he murmured. "And I think of little else."

She drew even closer, inhaling that clean, winter scent, and lifted her lips to his without meaning to. It was simply a natural response to him, as automatic as drawing air into her lungs.

To her surprise, he did not refuse the offer. His lips came down on hers, and his hands roamed over her curves, along her shoulders, down her back, around to find the rounded breasts he ached to expose. Squeezing them brought a muffled moan against his mouth, and then her hands were seeking, exploring his body, feeling the muscles shifting beneath his skin. He pulled her against him, rubbing the hard ridge in his pants against her. She wanted him back in her bed, with her beneath him this time while he sank deep inside her until she forgot he had ever left. They would thrust together to bring forth a whole new light, one they created together. She may have given up the light already, but somehow, she felt the heat of it, the joyous promise as vibrant between them as ever.

Still, a thought stopped her, and she broke off. "How do I know you won't vanish again?" she asked.

His breathing was heavy while he gazed down at her. He took hold of his pendant. "This is what allows me to cross the veil at will." He gave a firm tug, and the leather cord gave way. He laid the gem on the mantle.

He pushed his hands beneath her sweater, gathering it up out of his way while he found her bra and shoved it aside as well. Her nipples were stiff and waiting, and he bent down to take one between his teeth. She gasped, rocking on her feet, and one of her hands shot out, steadying herself against the mantle. Instead, she sent the plate with his offering of cakes to the floor with a crash.

Dominus ignored the broken dish and straightened to sample her mouth again, thumbing her wet nipple while his other hand slid between her legs. Her nails dug into his arms, and she let out a whimper. All she could think about was letting him shove his cock deep until he made her scream.

"I thought I might find you near she who birthed this year's light," came a deep voice from behind her. "But not in her arms and in full view of humans."

Lorayna gasped and sprang away from Dominus, straightening her clothes on the way. "Who are you?"

The man ignored her. Not that he was a "man" exactly. He, too, was shirtless, wearing a cloth slung low around his waist. More telling, gnarled antlers jutted from the sides of his head, poking out from among long brown waves of hair. His golden eyes, wild and foreboding, were fixed on Dominus.

"He is the god Herne. My father." Dominus's tone was cool, but a quiver through the velvety depths of his voice gave away a certain lack of calm. "How did you find me? The veil pendant keeps me out of phase." His eyes widened, and he glanced over at the necklace lying on the mantle.

"As you have apparently decided to flout the rules about letting yourself be seen, it was a simple enough matter." His eyes narrowed. "And I take it this is not the first time."

"I told you I was with her on the night of Yule."

"But not that you did so while fully phased here, with her aware of you. I had presumed you at least had the sense to perform the ritual while still cloaked from the Earth realm."

Lorayna's lip curled. "You mean take what he wanted while I laid there clueless?" She shook her head. "No, he had more sense and decency."

Now Herne eyed the woman with scrutiny. "No act of joining between realms is ever undertaken without full consent of the females involved. That they do not see nor feel what is happening does not mean they are unaware of it, and those who do not wish to be joined with are left in peace and unmolested."

"While the rest of us are used for your own purposes and abandoned without a say in the matter." She sniffed. "I can see why you choose to be invisible. You don't want humans knowing what you're up to."

Herne straightened. "If we chose to do away with the sabbats as most humans have, the results would be catastrophic to both our realms. We do what we must to keep the balance."

"Regardless of the personal cost." Defiance still blazed in her words, but her voice broke on the last.

Herne took a step closer. "Do not be so quick to judge your gods, nor to dismiss your role in keeping the worlds in harmony. The balance between realms is far more vital than your ability to clutch the back of the man who is riding you." He shrugged. "Which you are free to go off and do as often as you wish, now that the wheel is turning on a fresh new year. You are well enough met. Surely suitors come to your door."

She ignored that. "And what if the back of the man I clutch happens to be your son's? Am I still free to ride him then?"

Herne's gaze turned back to Dominus. "What is it you have done? What do you hope to achieve by this?"

Dominus laced his fingers through Lorayna's. "I told you, Father. I want the same happiness afforded any other man."

She glanced at him. He'd discussed her with his father? And in terms of wanting to be happy?

"You are not any other man," Herne said. "You are a god of the sabbat."

"So what? There is at least one other of us who knows true love for a woman."

Lorayna's small gasp sputtered out over a dry mouth. True love. Dominus knew true love.

"And it has cost your brother much trouble and sorrow," Herne replied. "Even more so now that the earth is in such turmoil."

"Because of you. Because you wouldn't let them be happy together."

"I let her live far longer than any human, didn't I?"

Dominus laughed. "Is that what you call it? Living?"

Herne's face darkened. "Do not mock me. What is between Eradimus and Brighid is not your concern." He nodded to Lorayna. "Nor is this human. Let go of these fantasy notions of love. With time, she will forget your foolishness and move on. As will you."

Dominus shook his head. "I will not."

She squeezed his hand. "I won't either. Not ever. I don't know what happened with your brother, but I don't intend to be another Brighid."

He glanced down at her, and her heart skipped at the power of his gaze. She was the human and he the god, yet she could see his tenderness, the power she wielded over the immortal. There was a magic there that he apparently could not escape. He had crossed between worlds, defying his father, because of it. And she'd thought he hadn't seen anything in her beyond the latest ritual conquest.

"Come," Herne said in a thunderous tone that left little illusion that it was a solid command. "We will discuss this privately back in our realm."

Dominus turned back to his father. "No. I came here to be with her, and I'm staying."

"You came to check on her welfare, and judging by her cheek when she speaks to a high god, she is clearly well enough. Don't play with me, boy. I'm in no mood."

"You're never in any mood but that of a scowling, blustering old man with no idea what it means to love. Have you ever loved a woman, great god of the forest? I don't mean pushing deep into spread thighs until you lose your seed." He took Lorayna's chin and let her eyes fill him. She was floating and yet drowning, her head spinning with the energy of his nearness. "I mean staring into a woman's eyes until you lose your soul."

"Dominus," she said in a gentle whisper, his image blurring through tears. "I love you too."

***

They were in love.

His heart began to drum harder. There was a new fire in her gaze, one he had feared had gone out forever when he had phased into her living room and seen what his abandonment had done. New Year's had come and gone, but her Yule decorations had still been up, as dried and dead as her expression while she'd stared out the window. No cozy fire glowed in the hearth, but his offering still sat on the mantle. He had been surprised to discover the food had not dried out, nor the drink gone sour. The offering had been made recently, beckoning him back.

All he had wanted to do was check on her, see her one last time. Now, all he wanted was to gather her in his arms and never, ever let go. She had suffered overlong after releasing the light. The emptiness was a transitory thing, lasting a day, perhaps two. But she had been mourning more than the loss of the Yule sun. They had both lost something neither of them would recover from.

"Love," Herne echoed, sarcasm dripping from the word. "You wax quite poetic, with all the whim and vinegar of idealistic youth. But what happens when he must select the next sun bearer? Will she forgive your sins, Dominus, year after year when you must bring forth the light of another? For unlike those such as Eradimus, chances are you will never again be able to join with this particular lover for a Yule ritual. Conceiving the Beltane spark is a rare and singular gift."

Lorayna still clutched his hand, but he felt her stiffen beside him. She would not forgive him, no. She already almost hadn't. Nor would he forgive himself.

"Then perhaps it is time you found a new god of Yule," Dominus said. "It is the end of the Thousand Seasons. A fitting occasion to usher in a new era."

Herne's face reddened. "Distance, that's what you need." He waved his hand, and Lorayna was pushed several feet away. "I'll take you back myself until you can clear your head."

He turned to Dominus, walking forward while he raised his hand again. Dominus knew his father could do it. Herne was powerful enough to force him back to the other realm, pendant or no.

Herne's steps crunched through the broken plate on the ground, through the crumbs of the offering Lorayna would never again make. There would be no point if Dominus was banished.

Dominus lunged for the mantle, grabbing for an object that made Herne waver for just a moment. "No!" his father exclaimed. "Earth will become your home forever."

He didn't stop to argue. He saw the man's hand charging with power, enough to send him away from Lorayna for good, if that was Herne's wish.

He sucked in a breath and put the goblet to his lips. The wassail had been prepared fresh, but it had since cooled to room temperature. The spiced tang of wine slid over his tongue and down his throat, sealing his fate. A single drop dribbled onto his chest, and he wiped it away.

Herne's expression went slack as the energy collecting between his fingers dispersed. He lowered his hand and stared at his son. "That was a rash and foolish gesture."

"Then surely that proves I must be in love."

Silence stretched to an unbearable thread of tension between them. His heart pounded in the knowledge that he had sealed his fate.

"You made a fine god of Yule," his father said at last. The voice was deep and rough, but quiet. Defeated. "You were chosen by the Fates from the moment of your birth."

"The Fates brought me to Lorayna. I have no doubt of it. They will forgive my moving on to a new future." He took one step and wobbled at the disjointed sensation in his limbs. A warmth spread from his stomach to every inch of him, as the drink he'd taken into his body rooted him to this realm. He felt tendrils of connection snake forth, energy from his own spirit joining with that of the earth itself.

He wavered, blinked, and shook his head to clear momentary fog.

"You have paid quite a price just to defy me," Herne said.

"No." He looked up at his father. "Please understand, I did not do this out of defiance for you. I did it out of love for her."

He reached out, and she came to him, circling his waist with her arms. Her warmth pressed to his side cemented him to the world he was now fully a part of, and the disorienting dizziness faded.

Herne heaved a deep sigh and nodded. "So be it. You are no longer chosen."

He waved a hand, and Dominus flinched at the motion. Nothing happened.

"But remember that you are still my son."

Herne vanished, and Lorayna held him tighter. "What did he mean by that?" she asked.

"I am not certain. Hopefully not that he plans to meddle again in the future."

"Do you think he will?"

He shook his head as they both stared at the space his father had vacated. "No. I am bound to this realm. And I am no longer chosen." An odd echo accompanied the words. But they held no regret.

"You said you couldn't eat or drink anything from here," she said. "I just didn't know why. You're really here for good?"

He ran his fingers across her shoulders. "I am rooted here. My natural state will be to exist on this plane. There are still ways to visit the other side, however." He looked around for the pendant, which had vanished. "Though it seems my father took the easiest route with him."

She looked up at him, and then she jerked away with a sharp breath. "Dominus!"

Slight alarm rose in his chest at the way she gaped at him.

He spun toward the mirror and stared at himself. His eyes, still an ice blue, had lost the fire of immortal light. What was more, his chest and neck were no longer painted in unnatural tones of blue. The birthmark had faded.

"No more hiding," she said. "You look, well, human."

He kissed her, feeling her warm tongue bring his body to life, and when he opened his eyes while their lips were still joined, he saw her watching him. She broke off the kiss and smiled.

"You still have some magic," she whispered. "Not human after all."

His eyes, he saw in his reflection, glimmered as his need for her grew. "No longer the god of Yule, but still the son of a god. That's what he meant."

He took her in his arms and used the power of intention to give them a slight push. Then they were outdoors, enveloped on all sides by tall pines, the brisk air of winter tinged with the warm promise of sunlight. Spring's return was near at hand, and the son of Herne, powers still intact, had used his magic to bring them to the woods.

"I have long wished to experience a Yule ritual out where a wintry forest slumbers," he said. "Awaiting the kiss of spring."

He pressed Lorayna against a tree and explored her mouth with his tongue, sending small shivers through her that he knew were not due to the cold. Heat flared within him as well, and his cock rose hard and long, throbs of need driving him to claim her as he dared not before.

"We can have our own Yule ritual," she said against his lips. "Every year. You will still be my god of Yule."

"Only if Yule is every day of the year."

The cool air against his hot skin pushed his lust for Lorayna to a new level of pleasure, and he took advantage by pinching her nipples with cold fingers, testing her, seeing if she, too, would find the mix of heat and chill as erotic as he did. She moaned and pressed against him, answering the unspoken question, and then he was between her legs, her pants down and her bare ass in the firm grip of his hands. His tongue sampled her taste, the sweet, yet musky heaven that made her squirm and his cock swell near bursting. She wriggled against his mouth as he licked her pussy, making long, teasing strokes with his tongue that jabbed inside her and ended with a flick over her clit.

Lorayna drove her fingers through his hair, holding him to her while she shuddered and cried out in a release of pleasure whose shockwaves were palpable to a god, whether or not Yule light followed. He freed himself from his pants, the cold air on his fevered cock only heightening his need, and he lifted her against the tree so he could plunge himself deep. Wet from his tongue and the rush of her own juices, he sank in easily, moaning at the thick velvet plush of her hot pussy surrounding him, pulling him down and sending him into madness. He thrust with impatience, each stroke possessing her more fully, each drawing him into a tight spiral where the two of them merged at the center. His hips pushed into her with force, until fucking Lorayna—making love to her—became a ritual itself, greater than any Yule rebirth he'd ever overseen. She pulled his lip between her teeth, and orgasm erased the past, his future, everything but that very moment. He came with a yell that scattered birds in the forest, the sound of her name shouting from his lips and the force of his thrusting releasing small clumps of ice and snow to shower down on their heads. They laughed and she kissed his neck before leading him indoors to thaw the chill with a goblet of wassail and a seductive rite of her own.

Long after that day, whenever the crackle of ice breaking from limbs was audible in the woods, echoes of a fateful Yule ritual rippled past the trees and over the nearby lake, fanning out to spread over this realm and into the next. The effect of their joining, the release of potent male and sensual female energy to the universe, would caress many in the sabbats to come during the year of the Thousand Seasons. But none basked in that energy more keenly than the god and his sun bearer, one chosen of fate, both chosen by love.

✯ ☆҉‿➹⁀☆҉☆ THE END ☆҉‿➹⁀☆҉☆

Thank you for reading this Sons of Herne romance! If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review. It's one of the best ways to let authors know what you thought, as well as to spread the word about books to fellow readers.

The series continues with Book 2...and you can get it for free! Read on for a sneak peek below:

### ERADIMUS: GOD OF IMBOLC

Eradimus must awaken a goddess before time runs out...

It is the time of Imbolc, and Eradimus, god of the sabbat, fears that the realms are in jeopardy. Violent storms erupt as the earth prepares to shake off its inhabitants, a fate that can only be avoided by the return of the woman he has loved for millennia. Brighid is destined to be in his arms only once each generation, a cruel enough fate before she failed to return. Now the world mourns her loss—and Eradimus's father, along with the Counsel of Sabbats, insists that he take another lover for an Imbolc ritual that will hopefully avert disaster.

Brighid is not having the greatest vacation. A sudden storm hits, almost taking her over the edge of a cliff along with her rental bike. Lost and alone, she makes her way to the nearest shelter—where a strange, but gorgeous man shows up and claims to know her. His sensual presence is overwhelming, and she very much wishes she could be the same Brighid he so desperately seeks.

Is she the goddess Eradimus longs for? He must find a way to restore her true identity and join with her before all of humanity is lost.

### EXCERPT:

Brighid had no idea how long she'd slept, but the next thing she knew, she was awakened by the crash of the side door banging open. Her eyes flew open to a burst of cold wind, a flurry of rain, and the glowing figure of a man in the doorway who appeared to be as shocked to see her as she was him.

"So," he said in a thick and heady voice. "It is true. You have come at last."

She blinked at the contrast of light clashing with the darkness around him. "I'm sorry?"

He stepped more fully into the barn. "And why is the goddess of Imbolc sorry to meet her consort?"

"The who?" She sat up, startled, and remembered just in time that she was rather naked beneath the warm quilts. She clutched them high around her, under her chin. "I think I'd better explain myself. I'm not who you think I am."

"On the contrary, I know you most fully. Brighid."

Her mouth fell open. His pronunciation was off, as he'd turned the final vowel into a long _e_ sound. Yet she had to admit the way he said it rolled most appealingly off his lips. How could he have known her name, though? Maybe a lucky guess. After all, the name was a lot more common here than back in the states. Still, it wasn't _that_ common.

"It's pronounced Bridge- _id_ ," she said. "Back in the states, at least. But how do you know my name? Did the inn send you to find me?" Maybe they, or someone at the bike shop, realized she hadn't come back, sent someone looking.

"I have followed you since the days of the Tuatha de Danann, when the hillsides marked Imbolc eve with naught but bonfire light, and magic flowed as freely as the fiery hair spilling down your back."

There was an old style to his speech in a dialect that did not match the region. She twisted the lantern key to turn up the flame, and lifted the lamp to get a better look at the man. Nothing about her day had been normal, and so it shouldn't have surprised her that he was far from average himself. His hair hung wild and free in streaks of layers of pale browns and gold that hung below wide shoulders. Braids were dotted here and there in a chaotic pattern. A circlet of woven reeds and leaves crowned his head, as well as his wrists and ankles. Beneath the crown, a smudge in the shape of a cross had been marked along his forehead and down his nose. Golden brown eyes shimmered in a study of her that she found as unsettling as their unnatural color. He was barely more clothed than she was, wearing only some sort of brown skirt tied at the side of a narrow waist and short enough to show off a broad, hard chest and muscled thighs. Ankle boots made of the same fabric—doeskin perhaps, she thought to herself—completed the ensemble. This was definitely not someone who had been sent to rescue her. There had been some sort of pagan festival advertised around the outer towns in honor of Imbolc, some celebration she'd never heard of. Perhaps he had come from there.

As bizarre as his costume was, there was an even more perplexing fact about his appearance. He had come in through the storm she could still hear pounding the outdoors as vigorously as when she'd flung herself inside the barn—and yet he was completely dry. Glowing, even. Some of the light around them seemed to be coming directly from him.

She frowned and moved the lantern back and forth, testing the theory. His skin, from every rippling muscle to the tattoo splashed over one shoulder, shone with some kind of barely perceptible illumination.

Her own skin prickled with electricity, as though lightning were about to strike indoors.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Is this your barn?"

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### Titles in the Sons of Herne Series:

Book 1-Dominus: God of Yule (Nov 2015)

Book 2-Eradimus: God of Imbolc (Jan 2016)

Book 3- Tallisun: God of Ostara (Mar 2016)

Book 4- Jorandil: God of Beltane (Apr 2016)

Book 5- Devinmar: God of Litha (May 2016)

Book 6- Feillor: God of Lammas (Jul 2016)

Book 7- Anduron: God of Mabon (Aug 2016)

Book 8- Archipellus: God of Samhain (Sept 2016)

Check out more titles by J. Rose Allister on her website at:

HTTP://JROSEALLISTER.COM

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. Rose Allister has penned over thirty novels and numerous short stories from her home in Southern California. She is a TV and movie buff, and is a firm believer that daydreaming, people watching, coffee and chocolate (preferably combined) are the greatest fuel for the writing imagination. She has more books in her to-be-read pile than she can ever hope to find time to sit and enjoy, but this never stops her from adding more.

