In the first century AD, conquering Romans plunge the British tribes into chaos. The future of the mist covered isle of Britannia and its brave people rest in the hands of two druids, whose views are as different as fire and ice. Yet they find love together.
Arch Druid Rhys is a master of the sacred mysteries but a novice in the ways of the heart. Sulwen, a sacred druidess, discovers Rhys, the shape shifter, has evoked a basic, feral desire in her, only to find the goddess may soon exact the unfathomable price of taking him from her.
Though their love is a potent as their magic, is it strong enough to survive the turmoil of the Romans, the Rebel Queen Boudica, and the gods?
Sulwen clasped her hands together and shook her head. “The Romans are cravens. They leave the women and children to the mercy of their enemy.”
“Yes, when have you known Romans to do otherwise?” Gods, when I learned of the massacre, I could not sleep nor eat for days. I feared they had killed you.
“In truth, they are as treacherous as the feline monster, Y Cath Palug,” Sulwen snaped. “Yet they shall not stop us. It is our land, we mean to keep it. The gods will prevail.”
“Yes, and for now we shall forge ahead as Andraste bids.” Once again I am facing the thought of loosing you. Yet this time it will be at my death. Knowing I shall not see you again until our next life together makes my sacrifice even harder.
“Do you think it will end soon?”
Rhys raised his chin, meeting her gaze. “Yes, I do. Very soon. I shall end with it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Worry not of it now.” His gaze swept over her face, knowing he would never forget the glow of her skin, her large, deep green eyes, nor her perfectly bowed lips. “It is best you rest.” He caressed her soft face with his large hands. “Let us lay together by the bonfire.”
Before she spoke, the smoldering light in her eyes said yes. “I will join you at the bonfire.”
“Ah, Sulwen.” His eyes locked onto her full, sculptured lips.
His mouth swooped down to capture hers. He caught her upper lip between his and suckled them. Salty, musky, he loved the taste of her and the soft, warm feel of her mouth. Blood pounded in his head. His skin burned. He plunged his tongue inside where it danced and curled. His breath was ragged. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes, which shimmered with an inner fire. His lips still burned.
Rhys led her to stand with him beside the crackling blaze. He wrapped his arms around her small, willing body. He crushed her against his chest, where her pillowy breast rubbed against him.
Burning. Wanton. He held her tightly as he rasped, “Do you know what we must do?”