Sunday, August 5, 2018

Son of the Moon by Jennifer Macaire


 Son of the Moon
by Jennifer Macaire
A reverse harem / time travel novel
Sensual

'A fascinating glimpse into the Ancient World jam-packed with adventure and colour. Well researched, entertaining and intriguing.'

- Jodi Taylor, best-selling author of the Chronicles of St Mary's series

Alexander the Great journeys to India, where he and Ashley are welcomed with feasts and treachery.

With their son, Paul, being worshiped as the Son of the Moon, and Alexander’s looming death, Ashley considers the unthinkable: how to save them and whether she dares to cheat Fate?


Universal Amazon link:
getbook.at/SonOfTheMoon


The night was sultry, the air like hot silk on our bodies. I spread a cotton sheet on the grass next to the tent and pulled Plexis down beside me. He was trembling, urgent, and I let him take me a first time, quickly. Then, when his breathing had slowed, I made him take me again, and this time we really made love. This time we shared our bodies and our desires, slowly, heartbreakingly, tenderly.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and held him to me, feeling his orgasm calling mine, and I answered. I let myself go –  let myself be swept along. Our bodies slid and glided together. Sweat gleamed in the starlight. His skin was dark, mine light. I arched against him and let my body drink its fullfill. Then we lay still, and I waited until my tremors stopped. I sighed deeply. Goose bumps rose on my arms. Plexis leaned over me and his lips brushed my nipples.

The yearning came back as sharply and poignantly as before. I moaned and opened my legs. His hands cupped my face as he soothed me. “Shh, shhh,” he whispered.

Someone else knelt between my legs. Alexander. His eyes in the moonlight were fey. I met him halfway, and this time I didn’t hold back. We grappled like wrestlers, gasping and twisting, striving to immobilize each other. He was stronger than I, but I was supple and had never been wounded in battle. I knew all his weaknesses, every torn muscle, and each broken bone. His body was still magnificent, but it had its foibles, and I had the hunger of a she-lion. Under the swollen moon, I felt as if there were fire beneath my skin, as if my blood were electricity.

He came, crying hoarsely in my ear. I felt his body jerking into mine, and I suddenly let all my muscles go loose, letting the storm take me as it would, giving myself to the yellow moon, to the hot air, to the monsoon clouds darkening the horizon.

Alexander lifted me and carried me into the tent. He laid me on the bed and we slept deeply until dawn. The heat didn’t wake me for once. I slept the boneless sleep of fulfillment, a smile on my lips. Chiron woke me. I stood, stretched languorously, then looked at Alexander who cocked a satirical eyebrow at me.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Mmm, yes.” I grinned, then grimaced. “Ow, did you bit bite my lip?”

He leered, “‘And a lot of other things.”

Plexis rose and took Chiron from his hammock, holding him at arm’s length. “Is this smelly thing yours?” he asked me.

“I’m afraid so,” I took the baby. “I’m off to the river to bathe. Who wants to come?”

Alexander came with me to the river. Dawn was breaking. The sky was shell shell-coloured; pale pink and coral along the horizon, darkening gradually to the west. There were still stars faintly visible where the heart of India lay, still sleeping.