At the Mercy of the Boar God

Here’s an excerpt:

“Please… no,” she gasped, choking back sobs. “Please… don’t take my purity from me.”

The boar snorted and lunged at her, ears laid back and the bristly mane along its back standing erect. It placed a huge, heavy hoof over her collarbones and pressed down, trapping her, forcing the air out of her lungs. Its eyes blazed.

I will take what is mine. Its words were like thunder in her mind.

“Who… what are you?” Nemara’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper. She struggled to breathe.

A fierce, penetrating energy filled the stone chamber. The runes flared, and for an instant, burned as brightly as the sun.

The hoof that held her down shuddered, and the beast’s whole body twisted, cracked, and convulsed. It let out a horrible howl that tore into the fibers of Nemara’s very being. She screamed as the hoof became searing hot.

Then it was over. When she opened her eyes again, it was not a hoof that pinned her, but a human hand. The pitch-skinned, beautifully muscled body of a man knelt over her. On its shoulders was the boar’s head, smaller, but no less terrifying. His eyes were like fire.

He opened his mouth and spoke. “I am your God, and you will bear my son.” The voice was darkness and honey.