About Season of Light
Season
of Light by J. Rose Allister
Sons of Herne 1/God of Yule
Erotic romance/urban fantasy
Series site: http://sonsofherneseries.blogspot.com/
Series trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1v8u1p0EvJg
Sons of Herne 1/God of Yule
Erotic romance/urban fantasy
Series site: http://sonsofherneseries.blogspot.com/
Series trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1v8u1p0EvJg
Amazon buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B017MGIV3M
Goodreads page: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28252745-season-of-light
Goodreads page: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28252745-season-of-light
Blurb:
Loving Lorayna could cost him his sacred power…
Dominus, god of Yule,
has been visiting Lorayna in secret for months, present only in whispers while
he prepared her for the sabbat. Now the time has come to invoke the ritual, and
he is possessed by deep yearning for the woman he is not allowed to touch.
Lorayna
has been drawn to the pagan path by a presence around her that she has been
unable to resist. When she discovers her “holiday spirit” is in fact a
mouthwateringly handsome god, she is ready to give him whatever kind of ritual
he chooses. To her disappointment, his plan to help her bring forth a season of
light is strictly hands-off.
Something
goes wrong, and Dominus is forced to break the rules and give into his urges
before the Yule power consumes her from within. The ripples of their passion
will alter many sabbat unions to come, but not before he must defy his own
father, the god Herne, to follow his heart and prove to Lorayna that she was
not merely another light bearer.
About
the Sons of Herne series:
The god Herne has
appointed eight of his most virile, headstrong sons as keepers of the pagan
holidays. To honor their sabbat, each must join with a mortal female in a
ritual to maintain the balance between worlds.
It is the year of
The Thousand Seasons, and the Fates have secretly conspired to mark the end of
an era by granting the gods one thing they lack--a true union of male and
female that will last well beyond the fleeting passion of a sabbat joining.
Herne’s sons will
wrestle with the conflict between sacred duty and their own yearnings, a
struggle that will not only challenge their beliefs, but may threaten the
success of rituals that must be observed lest the realms of mortal and immortal
collide in chaos.
Excerpt from Season of Light: (mature content)
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 duty, the brush of chilled wind a
push toward his 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 his 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 the season with festivities long 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, holding vigil until the break of dawn proclaimed in the
physical world what Dominus would have achieved 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 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 this night had been the same virgin his brother, Jorandil, had
united with the previous 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. The right combination of timing, along with a blend of solar
and lunar energies, was required, much like the act of human procreation. Precious
few women would succeed in capturing 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 to nurture 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 sent off the usual attendants on other missions this
year, leaving Dominus no choice but to interact on his own 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 thought of 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 visit, 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.
Bio:
J. Rose Allister has penned over twenty-five novels and
numerous short stories from her home in Southern California, including ten
publisher bestsellers. She is a TV and movie buff, enjoys the bittersweet
discord between obsessing over chocolate while striving for the benefits of a
fresh, organically-influenced diet, and is a firm believer that daydreaming,
people watching, and yes, chocolate are the greatest fuel for the writing
imagination. That and coffee. Or coffee with chocolate stirred into it. 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.
Links:
Site: http://jroseallister.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/jroseallister
Facebook: http://facebook.com/JRoseAllisterBooks
Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/jroseallister
Amazon Page: http://amazon.com/author/jroseallister
Twitter: http://twitter.com/jroseallister
Facebook: http://facebook.com/JRoseAllisterBooks
Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/jroseallister
Amazon Page: http://amazon.com/author/jroseallister
