Once in a Blue Moon

Beaux Reve Coven - 1

Delilah Devlin

To anyone who ever dreamed of having magical powers and living a magical life…you can.

Chapter One

Bryn Cavanaugh stirred the contents of a large black pot, breathing in the rich aromas scenting the air.

“With your blessings, come weal and bounty,

With our efforts, come fortunes plenty.”

The spell was short and to the point. She doubted the Powers That Be felt slighted. The Beaux Rêve women worked damn hard and never took their blessings for granted.

She dipped a spoon into the broth and tasted it, closing her eyes as she sampled the spicy mix. “Delicious.”

She turned off the flame beneath the large pot of shrimp gumbo she’d begun the night before. For now, it could steep in its fragrant roux. When she returned, she’d light the burner again to let it simmer slowly until it was ready for tonight when her sisters gathered for the evening meal. Satisfied, Bryn left her large, airy kitchen and headed toward the front door of the inn.

Cooking the large stew had been time-consuming. A task that had taken her mind off the trouble that was brewing. Today, the sisters faced enemies, and she was determined to remain calm, study their adversaries and determine their weaknesses while smothering the interlopers with kindness. Her totem was the rabbit, a symbol of abundance and comfort, and her element was the Earth. She would need to channel both to remain steadfast and calm.

She paused to rifle through the stones in the bowl beside the door. Some were polished and some raw crystals. She found her two favorites—a polished amethyst carved into a worry stone with a soft indentation for her finger to rub against when she grew agitated and a piece of raw witch’s amber. One for cleansing her spirit of stress and the other for deflecting negativity. These she’d also need this morning.

She put both in the pocket of her long flowing skirt and stepped off the porch, barefoot today, because she wanted nothing between herself and the Earth. Freshly cut grass tickled her insoles. She smiled, her first in days since news had arrived that outsiders were descending on them.

“Mornin’, Bryn.”

Looking to her right, she caught sight of Father Guidry watering his small garden beside his tiny clapboard church. She gave him a wave, her silver and beaded bracelets jangling on her arms, but didn’t stop to discuss his plantings. No doubt he’d say this year’s success was due to prayer. Oh, and he’d be right.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d snuck into his garden every night for weeks to pray to the Goddess for her favor. The elderly priest was a kind man, and he tolerated the sisters of the Beaux Rêve coven while continuing to hold out hope they’d see the error of their strange ways.

Tolerance was a blessing, and something the folks of Bonne Nuit, Louisiana, gave in abundance. Sure, they’d been suspicious of the women when they’d first arrived in their tiny hamlet. But the prosperity the women had brought—the jobs and self-sufficiency—had earned them, if not acceptance then at least a place in this isolated community. However, the isolation, something the coven considered their greatest blessing, was now threatened. Progress had arrived.

She stayed in the grass beside the sidewalk, skirting Main Street and walking toward the river where her sisters were gathered. But as she neared the canal, she found they’d been joined by gawkers. Nearly all of Bonne Nuit was there.

Radha and Darcy stood glaring at the gathering on the opposite bank while Aoife and Miren stared at the clouds above them.

“You’re blind,” Miren said. “It’s a scimitar. A reminder we aren’t without weapons for this battle.”

Aoife shook her head, a frown bisecting her pale brows. “It’s the Reaper’s scythe. We’re doomed.”

Bryn rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to read portents in clouds. All she had to do was look straight across the divide at the big machinery and the crew of strangers there to operate the earthmovers, crane and dump trucks to know they were in real trouble.

“I take it the injunction was lifted?” she asked the group.

Radha nodded. “Last night. I’m sure they paid a judge to do it in the dark of night. Demons do their best work in the dark.”

Bryn took her gloomy response with a grain of salt. The witches were ever vigilant of demons, but the more likely culprit was simply the state’s schedule for recovery from the last hurricane. The bridge that had connected Bonne Nuit to the rest of the world had been swept away three years ago. Something the town had taken in stride since it was a cyclical occurrence. This part of Jefferson Parish was prone to flooding. And Gus Hearn, a local with a Duck Dynasty beard and an old ferry boat, provided transport across the water when needed.

Gus’s boat was already docked on the opposite bank, and he was loading two vehicles, a green construction-company pickup and a delivery truck bringing supplies to Darcy’s crafters’ cottage.

“We can’t take this lying down,” Darcy said, shaking back her long red hair. “Tonight’s a blue moon.”

Bryn stiffened. “The last time we asked for intervention didn’t turn out so well. Remember, we asked for rain for our summer planting? We got a deluge that nearly wiped out the entire crop. Perhaps we should let things be. They’ll build their bridge, and the Goddess will send another storm.”

Darcy’s frown was fierce. “But strangers will walk amongst us. What if we’re found?”

“So far we’ve been lucky. Blessed,” she said, her tone even and filled with conviction. “But we knew this day would come. We’re stronger now. If demons find us, we’ll simply show them we’ve grown a backbone, and that we don’t need their counsel or their manly protection.”

Darcy shrugged, but her green eyes still flashed with fire. “I don’t think we’ll bring bad luck if we ask for intervention and cast a banishing spell. I vote we meet tonight.”

The others glanced around their circle and slowly raised their hands. Four to one.

Bryn sighed. They had no leader, no high priestess, so majority ruled—a policy they’d adopted the moment they’d fled upper Michigan.

Tonight, they’d meet under the blue moon.

And while she’d scoffed at Miren’s and Aoife’s attempts at aeromancy, she felt a little guilty withholding her own confusing portent that had invaded her dreams the night before. The cloud above them wasn’t shaped like a scimitar or a scythe. If her dream was right, it was a penis. The dream filtered through her mind again…

Moonlight gleamed through curtains. Large, callused hands stroked over her back and buttocks as the man in her bed waited while she sank slowly on his cock.

She’d felt the pressure inside her, smelled his earthy musk. But while moonlight illuminated his brawny frame, his face had remained in shadow.

She’d interpreted the sex as meaning that her privacy was about to be invaded. That she’d be tempted to set aside her vow to remain celibate and autonomous while she constructed a self-sufficient life.

But the intimacy of the dream could also mean she’d been alone long enough. The company of her sisters couldn’t fulfill her innate need as one connected to the circle of life, to Gaia the mother—the need to bear children. Children would ensure their future as a coven.

Perhaps the fact she’d been unable to see his face meant that any man might serve her need. When they’d fled their previous life, they’d foresworn true love because a witch could only know love once in her lifetime. A human male could provide his seed, but only a demon could hold her heart. The danger of mating with a demon, of becoming enslaved to his desires, was too dangerous to her freedom.

Reaching into her pocket to rub the amethyst, she concentrated on her blessings—on her sisters and this quiet place, on all the bounty they had brought to the community with their works. Her finger warmed the stone, and it began to vibrate, sending warmth up her arm and through her shoulder before spreading down into chest.

Calm again, she squared her shoulders and stared across the water at the ferry bringing the first wave of strangers. Perhaps she’d been too quick to paint their arrival as something black and ominous. She’d wait and see. And tonight, when her small coven drew down the moon, she’d offer a small prayer to the Goddess for a sign.

Ethan Thorne leaned his elbows on the rail as the rickety ferry boat made its way across a canal deep in a sleepy bayou. A place nearly out of time. Unchanged except for the slow drone of the boat’s engine. Trees draped in moss. Murky water. The sounds of insects buzzing and chirping and bird calls were an unending cacophony of sound.

They were headed across the expanse where he would build a bridge to the dock on the far side. A dock that wasn’t a dock. It was simply a road that had sunk into the swamp, the tarmac brittle and broken. The little community on the other side was in sore need of a bridge, so why had they protested for so long?

As the boat drew nearer, he noted a couple dozen people gathered on the sunken road. Most were dark-haired with dark complexions and appeared to be related by the similarities of their features. However, one group of five women standing in a half-circle to the side seemed out of place.

For one thing, their features weren’t large-nosed and their skin was pale. And each of the women was stunningly beautiful. How had a small backwoods place like Bonne Nuit produced so many delicately boned, beautiful women? Two were brunette, one was blonde and one red-haired. The one that drew his eye had hair the color of midnight with a slight bluish sheen.

And they dressed differently from the rest. Not a one wore a tee or tank or well-worn jeans and boots. These women wore long skirts, sandals or bare feet, rows and rows of stones around their wrists and long necklaces with pendants resting between their breasts.

At second glance, their skin wasn’t merely pale, it was luminous.

Realization of what they were hit him with the impact of a blow to his solar plexus. Witches. His gaze scanned the far bank. Where were their guardians?

He straightened and purposely dragged his gaze from them. He didn’t need to incite a war with whatever group of demons lurked out of sight.

“You see them?” Renner murmured, coming up beside him and smiling, his expression at odds with the intensity of his unearthly sea-blue gaze. In direct sunlight, his irises reflected the light, glinting like sunlight on a calm blue pond.

“I count five,” Ethan said. “And no sign of Others.”

“Perhaps they haven’t been claimed.”

“How is that even possible?”

“The isolation? The fact they’re banded together?” Renner raised a brow. “How interesting.” He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on. “No need to announce our presence just yet.”

It being daylight, Ethan had no worries his eyes would give him away. “Guess that means I’m staying in the town.”

“Until we find out what’s happening here, yes. Brother, we may have struck the mother lode.” He flashed a grin and turned toward the bank.

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, instinctively barring his heart to suppress the urge to pounce the moment the ramp dropped to the tarmac. Witches explained a lot. The string of bad luck that had plagued the company the moment the contract for the construction project had been awarded, although seized engines and workers’ accidents were behind them now. Witches also explained how this project had been placed so far down the list that the state’s budget had nearly excluded this last bridge.

Which might confirm his suspicion these witches were truly alone. If they’d been mated, there’d be no need to continue their isolation. Bound, they were protected. For a troll, a lesser demon on anyone’s hierarchy, the thought of five witches, the most exalted feminine prizes in the demon kingdom, the opportunity was too ripe with possibility to ignore.

He’d worked hard to gain respect, suppressing his true nature to ascend. Now, he ran his own crew and owned a piece of Vindlér Construction. The irony that he built bridges rather than lived beneath one wasn’t lost on him, and when Others made snide remarks, he let their jibes go rather than pound them with his stony fists. He’d learned self-control. Had educated himself. And now, the last mountain he had to climb might be within his reach—a witch of his own to increase his power and his influence. Although the stunner with the black hair appealed most, he didn’t really care which he ensnared. Any one of them would suit his ambitions.

“They won’t fuck like sirens,” Renner said softly.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought of bedding another siren whore. “Sirens squeal.”

Renner laughed. “Maybe for you. They sing like angels for me.”

Ethan grunted. Once the ramp was secured, the ferryboat captain gave them a wave. He and Renner strode to the pickup and climbed in. He drove off the ramp and through the small throng, like the parting of the Red Sea. But he wasn’t going far. They had to wait for the men who’d be staying in Bonne Nuit to make their way across. He parked on a small makeshift gravel lot, likely where cars waited for the ferry, and switched off the engine.

“Maybe you should leave the talking to me,” Renner said with one brow raised.

“All I’m looking for is a place for my crew to stay.” Not a hookup. Not yet. No finesse required.

He climbed down and approached the nearest local, a young man with a scruffy almost-beard. “Does anyone rent out rooms? I need beds for a dozen men.”

The young man’s gaze darted to the women.

Ethan’s followed. The black-haired witch gave a slow nod to the young man.

“You’ll have to ask, Bryn,” he said, scratching his beard. “She runs the Beaux Rêve Inn. Though I don’t think she has that many rooms to rent. Might also try ole Winnie,” he said, pointing to a large gray-haired woman. “She keeps a passel of grandkids in the summer. But she’s got rooms now. For a price.”

Renner stepped out in the direction of the witches, but Ethan elbowed his side. “Go make arrangements with Winnie for the crew.”

Renner flashed a smile. “Make sure your witch has a bed for me.”

“Thought you weren’t staying. You have a jobsite in Thibodaux to visit.”

“Thibodaux’s just over an hour away.”

Ethan narrowed his gaze. “As the crow flies.”

“I’ll commute. Get me a room.”

As his friend walked away, Ethan drew a deep breath to steady his heart. His sudden surliness toward Renner was generated by the intensity of his reaction toward the witches. There were five. He could share. He drew another calming breath. Didn’t help his hands were beginning to sweat. He wiped them on the sides of his pants. Then, catching the dark-haired witch’s eye, he strode straight for her, holding out a hand. “I’m Ethan Thorne, ma’am.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ethan.”

Her voice was deeper was than he’d expected, with a slightly hoarse inflection. Sexy as hell. Also, her hand was warm; heat pressed his palm and traveled up his arm. His gaze locked with the woman’s. Her eyes were a dark gray-blue and fringed by thick, curling black lashes. She wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup, not even lipstick, but her skin was like porcelain, her lips a deep cherry red. Since he’d spotted her, he’d experienced his first doubts. She was too delicate for someone like him. Too refined.

Heat swept through him again, and he couldn’t believe it. She thought he was human and was luring him in with her witch’s heat. An invitation he wasn’t about to refuse.

Since she already thought he was human, he’d play the part. “Ma’am, anyone ever tell you have the prettiest eyes?”

There was humor in those pretty storm-cloud eyes—not shared. She was secretly laughing at him.

Two could play this game. He cleared his throat and let go of her hand, and then he tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his cargo pants, his fingers framing his sex.

Something a quick, darting glance didn’t miss. Rosy color seeped into her cheeks.

“I understand you have rooms to rent.”

The redhead beside her grinned and jostled her shoulder, but the dark-haired beauty never looked her way. “I do. Are you interested in staying with me?”

At her choice of words, he smiled. “I’ll need a couple of rooms. One for me and one for my partner, Renner. We’ll be here for a few weeks. I can pay in advance, if you like.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She glanced back at the other women who stood watching them so closely he wondered if they had the ability to communicate without speaking. He’d heard some witches could do that.

One shrugged. Another gave her a pointed look and a frown. Another a wide grin.

He held his breath as he waited for the dark-haired woman’s answer, his dick getting harder by the minute, arousal she hadn’t drawn with her witchy heat. His erection had stirred simply because of the hint of flowers in her scent, her direct stare and plump red mouth.

If she was unencumbered, she’d be his. And soon. It was a damn shame he couldn’t use the power of that night’s blue moon to stake his claim. Didn’t matter though. Trolls had their own brand of magic and a penchant for capturing unsuspecting prey. Somehow, he’d have to keep her from discovering what he was long enough to seduce her.

“If you’ll follow me,” she said, indicating with a finger toward the street.

“Why not ride with me?” he asked, tilting his head toward his truck.

She drew a deep breath and then laughed. The tinkling sound made his belly tight. Holy fuck, her every gesture and sound made him hard. He curled his fingers against his pants.

Drawing a fortifying breath, he swept a hand toward his truck and then followed her as she strolled toward it, her hips swaying in a natural, easy wag of her ass that had his gaze following it like the sway of a mesmerer’s pendulum.

The job in this backwater bayou suddenly seemed more exotic. More portentous. Not that trolls trusted omens. As he helped her up into the cab, he couldn’t resist skimming his hand over a slender arm. Static crackled.

Her eyes blinked and a frown produced a tiny line between her dark brows. He ignored it, hoping she hadn’t noticed or that she put it down to some cause other than the fact trolls gave off a natural charge. She’d get used to it. Hell, she’d crave it. He’d make sure of it.

Chapter Two

One by one, the sister witches slipped through the kitchen door, all carrying their contributions for the evening’s meal. They laid dishes and baskets on the butcher’s block filled with rice, bean salad, a bottle of wine and freshly baked bread.

Radha slipped up beside Bryn, who was giving her gumbo a final stir. “He’s very big,” she whispered—a mock-whisper, because it was loud enough to send the rest into a fit of giggles.

“The size of the man doesn’t necessarily reflect the size of the cock,” Aoife chimed in, her blue-green eyes twinkling. She toyed with a lock of her long blonde hair. It was curly rather than its usual board straight, which meant she’d primped for the meal. “His friend is rather large too.”

“We are not going to discuss the size of their genitals,” Bryn said, her tone even. “This is their first night here. Let’s not scare them away by letting them overhear us talking about them like they’re…pieces of meat.”

“Man meat.” Darcy sighed, a naturally curling red lock teasing across her cheek. “How long has it been?”

“You know how long it’s been. Since we escaped. We should tread carefully.”

Darcy nudged her shoulder against Bryn’s. “I saw how you looked at him,” she sang and then lowered her voice to whisper. “You gave him a flash, didn’t you? Tell us the truth.”

Bryn kept her gaze on her pot. “If I did, it was only to ensure he took a room here. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, so they say.”

Darcy snorted. “Sure. Making frenemies was all that was about. Didn’t have a thing to do with the fact he was getting hard just looking at you.”

She shot her a sideways glare. “Darcy, enough. They’re in the dining room now.”

Darcy pouted but began gathering dishes. “Aoife, help me set the table.”

“No flirting,” Bryn called after her.

“Not with the dark one. Promise. He’s already yours.” Darcy pulled a large covered dish from a cabinet, one she’d handmade in her potter’s shed and set it with a thump on the counter beside Bryn.

Bryn checked the oven for the pies she’d been baking and the scent of cinnamon and apple escaped. The tops were beginning to brown so she turned the oven off and left the door cracked open. Then she ladled the gumbo into Darcy’s crock. Miren carried it out to the table. Radha gathered the remaining elements of the dinner and strolled through the swinging door into the dining room.

Bryn’s arms were empty as she followed Radha out, and she was glad, because the moment Ethan’s dark gaze slid over her, she tripped, her toe sticking on the edge of the woven rug beneath the large plank table.

Ethan shot out his hands and caught her.

She landed against his chest and sucked in a deep breath. She hadn’t stood this close to a male in years, and the sensory details were a bit overwhelming.

“I’ve got you.”

The way he said it in his deep, rumbling voice struck her. At once, a sensual thrill licked her senses. But a quiver of apprehension quickly followed. “I’m not usually this clumsy,” she murmured and pushed against his chest—a mistake, because her palms instantly molded around the bulges of his pectorals.

Sweet Goddess, he was well-made.

He set her back, easing his hands away and giving her a one-sided smile. “After you,” he said, indicating toward the table.

She went to her usual place at the table and blushed as he pulled out her chair for her to take her seat. He settled at the head of the table next to her.

Her friends hadn’t moved. They watched her interaction with Ethan with wicked gleams in their eyes. Something was afoot. She could feel it, but she waved a hand toward the table. “We don’t stand on ceremony here. Please take your seats.”

Food was passed around. Darcy ladled gumbo into bowls filled with rice and bread was broken. As bread plates were passed, Aoife, who sat at Bryn’s other shoulder, reached into a velvet bag tied at her waist. She pulled out flowers and began to lay one beside each slice of bread.

She smiled at the men. “I run a fragrant-oils business here. Flowers make life…prettier…don’t you think?” she said, batting her eyes at Renner.

Bryn narrowed her gaze, knowing Aoife’s penchant for flower magic, but she relaxed when her sister witch placed snapdragon blooms on the first plates. Protective magic was fine. And snapdragons served a dual purpose of encouraging friendship. Perfectly appropriate for the occasion.

But then she placed a zinnia bloom on the last plate, the one intended for Ethan.

Bryn gave her a subtle shake of her head. Zinnias were for lust.

“Pass the plate, Bryn. Ethan’s waiting,” Aoife said, an innocent smile on her face.

But the act of her giving him the plate might enact the magic, binding his lust with hers. Bryn pulled back her hand, reluctant to accept it. Yes, ever since she’d met him she’d been imagining all kinds of sexy possibilities, but she wanted to tread carefully in those deep waters.

“You don’t believe in flower magic,” Aoife whispered.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked just as softly, leaning toward her friend.

“I saw the way he looked at you when he caught you. He only needs a nudge.”

“Shhh…” Bryn pasted on a smile and quickly handed the plate to Ethan, who picked up the bloom and looked at it with curiosity before putting it back on the plate.

Bryn let go of the breath she held. Flower magic wasn’t her milieu. And Aoife hadn’t cast a spell, adding words as a prayer to the elements, so perhaps the flowers were only meant to tease her. The women had seen her instant attraction to Ethan, something that hadn’t occurred in a very, very long time. They must have been tittering among themselves over the fact she was smitten.

Radha cleared her throat and glanced at the men in turn. “Are you both settled in?”

Ethan looked up from his bowl and his gaze went to Bryn.

Heat began to fill her cheeks as she recalled their conversation when she’d shown him his room. She’d explained the faucets in the bathroom—some guests, rare though they were in these parts, had been confused by the whirling lever.

Ethan had merely smiled. “I think I get it.”

Then she’d explained the device that controlled the softness or hardness of the mattress. “The higher the number, the harder it will be,” she’d said and then clamped her jaws closed because talking about softness and hardness had made her suddenly imagine his cock, elevating and lowering according to some click of a button.

Ethan’s mouth had firmed into a narrow line, but his eyes had gleamed with laughter at her distress.

She’d fled the room moments later, her hands held against her hot cheeks, his soft chuckles following her down the hallway.

“My room’s very comfortable. I especially like the bed.”

The brows of every woman rose and their gazes went to Bryn, who frowned and ducked her head. “The gumbo’s getting cold,” she muttered.

The rest of the meal passed without any more embarrassment, the women, not Bryn, asking questions about the plans for the bridge.

“How long will you be staying?” Miren asked, her sea-green gaze darting to Renner.

“As long as it takes. Plans are for a month. There’s a lot of concrete work to finish before we start on the bridge itself. Much of the metal was prefabricated before we arrived.”

“A month?”

Bryn detected a hint of dismay, which surprised her considering how adamant she’d been earlier about working a banishing spell.

Renner shrugged. “We’ve suffered delays before. Weather can wreak havoc. Too much rain in the forecast and we can’t pour concrete. But so far, it looks like there will be clear skies for a while. We’ll be dredging to install pillars tomorrow.”

The frown on Miren’s face told Bryn that the topic of rain might enter into their spellwork that night.

A month. Her hand tightened on her spoon. If she didn’t act quickly, she might have only one short window of opportunity to conceive. She was fertile right now, but she couldn’t imagine seducing him so quickly. Her gaze went to the zinnia blossom. Perhaps she would need a little help—and there was hot apple pie still to serve.

“Anyone ready for desert?” she asked, setting her expression so that no one would guess what she intended.

“Need help?” Darcy asked.

“I can manage. I’ll only be a minute.”

She gathered bowls to take to the sink and then hurried to the oven. She pulled out the baking sheet both pies sat on and slid it onto the butcher block. Then she reached for a bottle of ground cinnamon. Another sprinkle would do no harm to the flavor of the pies.

She shook cinnamon into her palm and picked up a pinch with her fingertips. Closing her eyes, she imagined the lover she’d dreamt of the night before. She mentally opened the curtains so that moonlight shone on his face. Ethan’s face. Holding that image, she opened her eyes and began…

“Spirits, hear my plea,

With sweet and spice I will entice,

A lover to my bed.

Let moon and magic weave through dream,

Each twisting, turning path will lead,

My lover to my bed.”

She sprinkled the cinnamon over one pie and then stood staring at it, wondering if she was doing the right thing and whether the need inside her to procreate had less to do with ensuring the future of her coven and more with her desire for this particular man. Something that suddenly struck her as significant. Why him? Why now?

A shiver slithered down her back. Why indeed?

“What’s keeping you?” Radha stood in the doorway, her gaze going to the counter and the cinnamon bottle, and then rising to Bryn. “You needed more?” Her lips twitched.

“The recipe called for more than I’d used,” she said evenly.

Radha smiled. “Then you won’t need the charm bag I slipped under his chair?”

A smile tugged at Bryn’s mouth. “You did that for me?”

“You’re the eldest. It’s only right you lead us.”

“Into temptation?”

Radha arched a fine brown brow. “Bryn, it’s just a pie.”

Both women were smiling widely when they reentered the dining room.

Ethan kept watch from his bedroom window as night deepened. Witches couldn’t resist the lure of a blue moon. If there were Others about, they’d be meeting them to dance in the silvery moonlight. All he had to do was wait and follow the women to whatever oak they’d chosen for their ceremony.

A soft knock sounded on his door. A moment later, Renner slipped inside.

“The women certainly seemed frisky at dinner.”

“Frisky?”

“All those love spells. I nearly choked on cinnamon.”

“My pie was spiced just right. I can still taste it.”

Renner studied his expression. “Looks very promising given they were casting for you.”

Ethan arched a brow. “Feeling left out?”

“Not at all. Red and the blonde were both fanning their eyes at me. I won’t be lonely.”

“They think we’re humans,” Ethan said softly.

“Awfully convenient, isn’t it?” Renner smiled. “If we confirm they’re without protection, we’ll be here, close enough to lay claim. Capture them before they know it.”

Ethan fisted his hands. Already, he could imagine lovely Bryn in his arms. Pinned beneath him the moment he skimmed his hands over her curves. He’d catch her wrists and spread her with nudges of his thighs. When he pushed inside, she’d know. She’d feel the tingle of the charge he’d emit at first thrust even before he said the words that would bind them together.

A distant sound, the squeak of hinges, alerted him that Bryn was on the move. He parted his curtain and peered into the moonlit night.

She wore a long robe and her dark hair was covered with a hood, but he knew it was her from the straight set of her shoulders and the easy, graceful sway of her hips.

“Let’s not lose her,” Renner said behind him.

Suddenly, he wished his friend wasn’t here. A sea-draugr had advantages a troll did not. Renner could shift into a cat or wisping fog. He could play among the dancing witches and never be detected, while Ethan was firmly rooted to the Earth. He’d have to watch from afar.

The men moved quickly through the house, slipped out of the front door and ran to the forest’s edge. There, his troll’s heightened sense of smell picked up Bryn’s floral scent. They moved more slowly, careful to stay closer to the trees where fallen moss would soften their steps.

At last, they reached a clearing and both went down on their bellies, crawling closer to watch as torches were lit around a large live oak and the women gathered just inside the bright circle. The sounds of insects buzzing, crickets chirping and frogs ribbeting grew still. Now, a faint hum was the only sound in the air. The clearing was enchanted.

The witches discarded their robes, and Ethan eagerly sought Bryn’s nude figure. So slender, so ethereal. Breasts large enough to fill his hands and with rosy nipples. Her black thatch was trimmed neatly, a narrow line from mons to slit. She walked to the oak and knocked three times against the bark.

“Waken, spirit of the oak.

Stand guard while we revel.

Defend our secrets from evil.”

The torch flames flared out then whooshed inward. The ground shifted then settled. And still, Ethan could see into the circle.

“Looks like the spirits don’t mind us being here,” Renner said, grinning.

“It’s bright inside the circle. The women won’t be able to see past it. Let’s get closer.” They both crouched and ran to a grassy hummock before settling on their bellies again to watch.

This close, Ethan could clearly see the women’s expressions as they began to move, spaced apart to ring the tree. They swayed to some inborn music, supple as willows, arms raised.

His gaze clung to Bryn. Her eyes were closed, her hands beginning to flow over her skin, touching her breasts, sweeping down her belly to cup her mound and then floating away as though bathing in the torchlight.

And then the women moved, all in concert, outside the fiery ring. They stood beyond the shelter of the branches in the silvery moonlight. Arms raised, they turned slowly, moonlight filtering over their pale skin, seeming to sink into them, giving them a luster like the surfaces of pearls.

Again, they moved in the large circle, spinning slowly, dancing on tiptoe as they reached toward the starry sky.

He’d witnessed the drawing of the moon before in a far more serious ceremony where the witches of the king’s council members had sought added powers for a specific purpose. But what he witnessed now was more beautiful. A communion with the moon. Natural, unselfish and so graceful his body hardened with desire.

A prurient response, he knew, but his nature was ruled by the basest of instincts—a need to feed, to sleep, to fight and fuck.

The women halted and opened their eyes. They gazed upward, reaching toward the moon.

Bryn halted nearest to where he and Renner lurked. Her eyes were dark and gleaming. Her deep breaths shivered through her frame, her full breasts stretched, nipples peaking. A sheen of moisture glistened on her thighs.

“Mother of all life, we beseech you.

You are the wind in the trees,

the sparkling water, the licking flame.

You seed our earth, cloak our skin,

fill our bellies and our souls.

Your blessings we rejoice.

We serve, not from fear, but from choice.

And now, we seek a boon,

not for power or for gain.

Goddess, hear our dreams.”

Ethan held his breath, waiting to hear what Bryn most desired. But she remained silent, closing her eyes again. All the women stood still as statues, thoughts apparently turning inward.

A breeze filtered through the trees and grew stronger, making branches sway. The torches flickered and slowly blew out, one by one.

The women stood clothed only in moonlight, their hair whipping around their shoulders.

And then the wind died. The women awoke from their trances and glanced around their circle, sharing happy smiles.

All but Bryn, who stared forward, a frown marring her dark brow as she leaned toward him, staring straight at him.

Chapter Three

Bryn pressed her knuckles into the bread dough, putting all her strength into squeezing the air from it. Much like she wished she could do to a certain nosy man.

Ever since last night, she’d been angry. At herself for her lapse of good sense. At him for being a pervert.

What he’d seen wasn’t something witches shared with humans. Generations of self-preservation lessons handed down from mother to daughter about witch hunts and public shunnings were reason enough to be concerned. If he’d come armed with a camera or a cell phone, the damage could be so much worse.

And it was all her fault. She’d cast the spell to draw him to her. To fan his interest. He’d been unable to resist following her. Was probably beating himself up for acting like a Peeping Tom.

Ethan didn’t strike her as the kind of man to spy on a woman. He appeared stalwart, trustworthy, or maybe she didn’t understand a thing about him and painted him with qualities she admired.

The only thing she knew as truth about him was that he was the most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever seen. From his dark hair and deeply tanned skin to his heavily muscled frame, she grew hot just thinking about the power in his hands, the sheer physicality he would bring to lovemaking. And she could scarcely contain her impatience.

But she hadn’t told her sister witches that he’d been there last night, when each of them had sent their own private prayers to the Goddess.

Hers, they’d have no trouble guessing. She’d been aroused by the dancing. Imagining him there. Sweet Goddess, she’d likely conjured a spell that had him walking like a zombie into the forest, she’d been that hot. He’d consumed her thoughts. Her mind had filled with lusty images to the point where her excitement had wet her sex and trickled down her thighs.

Not that her sisters had teased her when they were done. They’d all been quiet, their thoughts turned inward, meditating on what they’d requested. Bryn wasn’t sure about the others, but when she’d walked back to the inn, she’d felt as though she was supercharged with moonlight, as though the blue moon had the strength of ten and all of its power had flowed over her body, sinking deep into her skin.

She rounded the dough again and set it in a large bowl with a towel draped over it to allow it to rise again. She turned toward the doorway, intent on making beds and tidying the rooms the men had slept in, but she drew up short, shock taking away her breath. Ethan stood in the doorway.

His gaze swept her head to toe, and she knew he was remembering her nude in the moonlight.

Her cheeks filled with heat, and her glance fell away. “You must have a dozen questions,” she said quietly.

“I hoped I’d catch you alone.”

“Oh?” She raised her head, cursing the fact her heart leapt at his words.

“I wanted to apologize for spying on you.”

She stood still, waiting for him to ask about what he’d seen. Five women dancing naked in the moonlight—she could only imagine what thoughts were running through his mind.

“I heard you leave.” He shrugged. “I live in New Orleans. A woman walking alone at night…”

“You were concerned? You shouldn’t have been. Other than snakes and the occasional alligator, it’s pretty safe here in Bonne Nuit.”

“I was concerned but also curious. I wondered if there was a man you were meeting.”

His cheeks darkened with his admission, and she nearly smiled. Had he been jealous? “I don’t have anyone in my life…like that.”

His breath left in a slow stream. “That’s good to hear.”

Glad he was brushing off the strange happenings he’d witnessed, she offered him a smile. “Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich, and there’s still a slice left of that apple pie.”

“I’d like the pie, if you don’t mind.”

She shuttered her expression, thrilled at another chance to work her spell. “I’ll get you a slice. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee would be nice.”

As she busied herself serving him, she was aware of the way his dark gaze followed her every move. His attention pleased her. So did his appearance. Again, he wore khaki cargo pants and a dark tee bearing his company’s logo over his heart. The soft cotton stretched across his broad chest.

His short dark hair was cut close to his head. His beard must be heavy because he’d been clean-shaven that morning at breakfast but now a shadow darkened his jaw. She wished she could rub her palm over it and feel the stiff bristles. Who was she kidding? She wished she could rub her hands over his entire body. He was so large and imposing. So dark and exciting.

She set a plate and a mug on the kitchen table, poured a mug for herself and took a seat opposite him, watching as he ate.

His appreciation for her effort was there in his blissful expression when he took his first bite. “Lady, you can bake.”

“I love to cook. It’s why I chose to run a B&B.”

His gaze studied her. “The bridge being washed away must have hurt business.”

She shrugged. “Not so many folks come this deep into the bayou. The occasional hunter or swamp tourist. I do okay.”

“When the bridge is finished, you’ll get busier.”

His pointed look had her nodding. “So you know how hard we fought the project.”

“Makes me curious. I know you and your friends have businesses you run. Doesn’t it complicate things when you can’t easily get resupplied or send out your shipments? Or when customers can’t get to you?”

She smiled. “We treasure our privacy more than we do the size of our bank accounts.”

He grunted and took another bite. “I’m truly sorry about last night, but…” His gaze locked on her. “I can’t regret it. You’re very beautiful.” His words were gruff, as though he was unaccustomed to giving women compliments.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “But it hardly seems fair.”

He lifted the mug and took a sip, his gaze narrowing over the top. “What can I do to make it…fair?”

“I’ll try to think of something. Just so I won’t be the only one blushing.”

He smiled and its slow progress caused her breath to hitch.

“Let me know when you figure it out.” He pushed up from the table and stood over her, his smile leaving and a little frown pulling his thick dark brows together. “I plan to be here a while, Bryn. I don’t want you uncomfortable around me. If I overstep, all you have to do is say it. I’ll back off.”

His interest was there. And strong. Something she could almost taste in the air. Bryn rose in front of him, her heart hammering against her chest. “I’m not shy about telling a man what I want.”

There was a hint of satisfaction in the firm set of his mouth. A glint of something dark that made her heart pound and her sex begin to heat. When his head bent toward hers, she couldn’t have mustered a protest if she’d wanted to. She wanted his kiss too much.

His fingers lightly framed her face, but his lips were firm, commanding, brushing hers and then pressing deeply. The soft suction he applied made her toes curl.

But the kiss was over far too soon. He raised his head, his mouth curving at the corners, and then he left her.

Bryn touched her mouth and sighed. Ethan Thorne was a surprise. For such a large, intense man, he could wield a kiss with true finesse, like a skilled warrior holding a two-edged blade—slicing away her inhibitions while never exposing his true power.

Dinner was a frustrating affair. Her sisters flirted shamelessly with both men. Double entendres piled on top of easy smiles. Bryn felt as plain as her plank table. Sure, she’d put a little extra effort into her appearance, forgoing her long, easy skirts for a mid-thigh sheath, but her sisters had pulled out all the stops. Radha’s spaghetti-strapped top was cut so low the sides of her full breasts were exposed. Aoife’s summer dress dipped daringly in the back toward her derriere. Miren and Darcy opted for sheer, gauzy fabrics that hinted at dusky nipples.

Bryn’s garnet dress hugged her curves and exposed her legs, but not in the sexy excess of the dresses the others had donned. Still, while he smiled at the women’s flirting, Ethan’s glance returned time and again to her, where it would rest for long moments on her mouth and on her breasts and then swing away.

After she served strawberry tarts, she hid herself in the kitchen, away from the noise and irritation, elbows-deep in sudsy water.

The kitchen door whooshed inward and she glanced back. “I can handle the dishes on my o—”

Ethan stood behind her. “Let me dry.”

She didn’t want him to dry. She wanted him to make her very, very wet. She swallowed hard and faced forward. “Towels are in the drawer beside the stove.”

He walked closer and bent to reach beyond her into the drawer. His proximity wasn’t necessary, but her body wasn’t complaining. Her breasts felt suddenly fuller, her hips looser. Fingers touched the small of her back, and then he moved beside her and began to empty the rack.

“Dinner was terrific.”

She’d made shepherd’s pie with a fluffy crust, fresh bread rolls and grilled string beans topped with sprinkles of crisp bacon.

“You don’t have to go to so much effort.”

“Cooking’s not a chore.”

“You love it,” he said, smiling.

“I do.”

“Well, I appreciate the results.”

“You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes at her stilted responses. Still, he loved her cooking. Warmth filled her chest. “You don’t have to help me with the dishes. You put in a full day’s work.”

“I prefer the company in here.”

She glanced to her side, gave him a small smile and then finished the last of the cutlery. “These can air-dry.”

He set aside his towel and moved behind her, bringing his hands down on the edge of the counter, trapping her between his thick, muscled arms. His warm breath stirred the hair beside her ear. “Town’s small. Where does a guy take a girl if he wants a little privacy?”

To her bedroom, but she guessed that would seem a little too forward. “He might ask her to walk in the garden,” she said softly. “There’s a gazebo in the back…”

He nuzzled his nose through her hair, skimmed his lips over her neck, and she couldn’t resist tilting her head to allow him a little more access to her bare skin.

“Come with me.”

Not a request. Not that she minded at all. She was eager to be alone with him. She let him take her hand and pull her toward the kitchen door. They slipped out onto the porch, and he let her lead him with their fingers intertwined past the raised-bed herb garden, past tall beanstalks and sweet corn. She led him to the trellised gate, overhung with hyacinth. “It’s not much farther,” she said, glancing back.

His expression was closed, his dark eyes shadowed. But she wasn’t afraid. He tightened his hand around her fingers. He was growing tense. Just like she was—from anticipation.

Excitement quivered through her. Every sense was alert. Just the air brushing her bare arms and legs felt erotic. The scent of honeysuckle and roses teased her nose. The sound of his heavy tread thudded like her heartbeat. Just ahead, the latticed sides of the gazebo were like silver interwoven bones in the moonlight.

Beautiful. Frightening as well, because there in the darkness they cloaked awaited the possibility of intimacies shared—with this man who had managed to consume her thoughts from the first moment his glance had landed on her. Just yesterday. How could that be?

Already, when they weren’t together, she was obsessed with thoughts of him. When he was near, her body awoke. Her breasts ached for his touch. Her sex throbbed with building heat. She was constantly wet. Constantly ready. If he wanted her this night, she wasn’t going to refuse. Her body was too painfully aroused to ignore.

They entered the structure and he tugged her to a halt. She stood facing away, trying to catch her breath. But her breathing was so shallow she was nearly panting.

He let go of her hand and settled both of his at her waist. His grip was light but insistent, and he pressed against her back. His chest was a brick wall. And below, she felt the nudge of a long, hard column against her buttocks.

Silently, he was warning her. This was what he wanted. She could refuse, ease away from the pressure, and he would accede, perhaps giving her kisses and caresses through her clothing. Nothing more than she was willing to accept at this moment.

But she was greedy. She wanted everything he had to give, and she wanted it now. Lifting her hand, she shifted her hair from her neck. “The zipper’s right there,” she whispered.

She heard a loud swallow and was glad he showed a little surprise. Was he as nervous as she was? It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man. Nearly five years. And then she’d been in Merrick’s thrall. His to switch on and off like a light bulb when he needed release or a spell.

Ethan’s hands left her waist. Tucking his fingers under the neckline of her dress, he slowly lowered her zipper and then pushed her dress downward until it puddled at her feet.

She stepped out of it and moved it away with a toe. Now she stood, still facing away, in just her lacy panties and bra.

Within seconds, he unhooked her bra and dragged it off her arms. Her nipples puckered instantly in the night air. He smoothed her panties down, kneeling behind her, his cheek against her ass as he waited for her to step out of her underwear. There was no way he could miss the scent of her arousal.

He slid upward, gliding his body against hers and holding for a moment before stepping away. The shuffling sounds of clothing being dragged off made her smile, because he was hurrying. His belt clanging on the wood floor was the final sound before he reached around her to cup her breasts. His bare cock pushed impudently against her backside.

“I apologize for the rush,” he said, a lovely growling texture to his deep voice.

“Apologize only if you make me wait.”

His laugh was short, pained. “Then I’m sorry. I don’t want to take you on the hard floor.”

She pointed to the seats tucked against the latticed walls. “The cushions,” she said, her own voice lowering, sounding foreign it was so husky.

He stepped around her, his head bent downward, concealing his expression as he grabbed cushions and arranged them on the floor. When he’d made a bed for them, he stood behind her again. “Let me do this my way.”

His way meant she would be on hands and knees. His callused palms urged her downward, arranging her knees, sinking the center of her back to tilt her bottom upward.

She didn’t mind that he treated her like a doll, that he took charge, his body blanketing her as he set the width of her hands just so. He was warm and hard and surrounding her. His cock glided on the backs of her thighs, nudged her buttocks and slid along her wet folds.

And his cock was huge. A blunt instrument. Rock solid as the rest of him.

When he was satisfied, he moved away. Her head bowed toward the floor. She hoped he’d take her. Sink his many inches inside her. However, the first flick of his tongue against her folds sent an electrical charge through her.

She must have been wound too tight. Nearly on the verge of orgasm for it to affect her so. She steeled herself against the pleasure, not wanting to disappoint him by leaving him in the dust.

He teased her with more flicks to her outer folds. Then he suckled there, drawing her inside his mouth for gentle nibbles. His whiskers raked her sex and inner thighs.

Not that she minded the abrasion. He could scour her skin off so long as he found her center. Which he did, dipping his tongue inside her and swirling. A deep groan vibrated against her sex.

When he pulled away again, she whimpered. She didn’t need foreplay, she needed the main event. But the nips he gave her fleshy ass made her jerk, escalating her sensitivity to his every touch.

Fingers parted her then swirled around her entrance. They eased her open, stretched her, one finger added at a time until she was beyond full. He spent so much time preparing her for his girth, she began to wonder if she’d underestimated just as how large he was.

The moment he prodded her with the blunt knob of his cock, she knew. He spread her folds and pressed against her, apparently gripping himself to circle her entrance and ease himself inside with precision and insistent pressure.

She’d dreamed about the way it would feel. Now pleasure was edged with worry that he wouldn’t fit. But she was wet, and more liquid seeped from inside her to coat his heavy cock. At last, he breached her entrance.

She sagged, her arms already shaking. Her body was too tight, too excited for her to slow her heart or reactions. “Ethan,” she whimpered.

The pressure relented. He held still. “Am I hurting you?” His voice sounded as though he were grinding rocks between his teeth.

“Yes,” she hissed, but she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted the pressure and the pain. “More, please.”

His laugh was choked. He gripped the notches of her hips to hold her immobile and worked himself inside in shallow, pulsing waves, in and out, deeper and deeper—until Goddess, he was touching her womb.

She felt a pinch deep inside her. A quiver of core-deep delight. This could be the moment. If only he didn’t realize he’d taken her unprotected and pulled free at the last.

Bryn sank her chest against the cushions and reached far beneath her, past his cock, to his balls. She gripped them, massaging them, sending out a flash of witch’s heat.

“Fuck, Bryn. Don’t…” He dug his fingers hard into her fleshy hips, pulled back and then slammed forward.

She released his balls, certain he wouldn’t stop until she’d achieved her goal. She’d unleashed his passion.

His hips moved faster, his cock cramming deeply, whipping back and shoving forward again. The sheer fullness made her want to shout. Her back arched and she pushed backward, trying to break his hold, but he began to move her, bringing her back as he thrust, pushing her away as he withdrew. He hammered her. Jostled her. Roughly, so deliciously, she was on the verge of exploding.

And then he began to move his hands on her skin. He reached up one hand to grab her hair and force her back to arch more, gliding another on her skin, raising gooseflesh. Her hair was lifting and prickling on the back of her neck. Static charged the air, and her eyes widened. She knew at last why he’d been so attractive, why she’d been inexorably drawn to him. Why she’d craved this union.

Demon! she screamed inside. But it was already too late. Heat swept through her, electricity crackled. Her core convulsed, her orgasm exploding outward, weakening her limbs, stealing her mind.

She slumped against the floor as he thrust twice more and then his seed jetted inside her. His shout as he came was filled with triumph.

When at last he grew still, he released her.

She crawled forward on her hands and knees and rolled to stare up in horror as he braced his hands on his thighs and met her stare. Her heart thudded dully against her chest.

His eyes glowed green in the darkness.

Not just demon. Troll!

Chapter Four

Ethan braced himself for her screams. She was a witch. Delicate. Meant to be protected from rough souls like himself. Tales of trolls kidnapping witches were told by mothers to daughters as cautionary tales.

Trolls devoured witches. Trolls broke their birdlike bones in their stony fists.

And yet she lived. She lay against the cushions, her breaths coming in quick pants. Her thighs still spread. The wet gleam of his seed drying on her luminous skin. Not only did she live, she’d shouted her pleasure despite the fact she’d figured out there at the end that she’d been tricked.

He wanted to shout. To drag her up and over his shoulder. To carry her into hiding, away from Others. To have her at his mercy again and again. Her heat was addictive. Like heroin to a human. He understood that now. He’d never willingly release her.

And yet his satisfaction with his victory was tinged with regret. Bryn’s face was pale. Her eyes watery. Her mouth trembled. Her entire body was shivering in the aftermath.

He reached for her, intending to draw her against his chest to comfort her, but she scrambled backward. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

His face hardened. “You do understand what this is? What I’ve done?” he said, keeping his voice even.

Her head shook. “It’s not a claiming.”

“And yet you’ve taken my seed.”

“And I can fix that,” she ground out.

He went cold. “You will not.”

Again, she shook her head, this time so hard her hair waved around her shoulders. “I don’t concede.”

“Those aren’t the rules. Concession isn’t required. I marked you.”

“And yet,” she said, tilting her head to glance up at him from beneath her lashes, “there was no echo of your victory.”

Ethan held still, realizing what she said was true. The skies weren’t rumbling. The ground didn’t shake. He sucked in a deep breath. “You’ve already been claimed. By whom?”

Her smile was without humor, a thin-lipped curve that made his chest tighten nearly as much as her brimming eyes. “I was claimed by Merrick.”

Ethan sat back on his haunches. “The hellhound?”

Bryn nodded. “I escaped. We all did.”

“Your sister witches were also claimed?”

She shook her head. “Betrothed. When they saw how I fared with Merrick, we plotted.”

“It’s impossible to escape the bond. How could he not track you?”

“We made use of another blue moon. All our entreaties concentrated on one desire. Freedom. And now you’ve ruined it all.”

“There was no echo when we climaxed. If you and your coven already broke the bond—”

“We broke nothing,” she shouted, her voice harsh. “We simply hid our trail. Muted it. But now that you and your friend know, our secret will leak out.”

Ethan squared his shoulders. “Then I’ll face him. Force him to release you.”

“He’ll kill you,” she said, her voice thickening with tears. “And then he’ll kill me. For betraying him and making a fool of him when I escaped. And my sisters will be returned to their owners.”

“A witch bond isn’t enslavement.”

Bryn snorted and a tear ran down her cheek. “It is when you belong to a council member. They’re entitled bastards. They don’t respect us.”

His jaw tightened. “And how did you fare with the hellhound?”

Her glance fell away.

His stomach dove. “I meant no harm to you.”

“And yet you have.” She scrambled to her knees and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “Renner?”

“A draugr.”

Her mouth curved into a bleak smile. “And my sisters are all bent on seducing him.”

Ethan raked a hand through his hair. Damn, he wished Renner hadn’t been so eager to lay claim to the coven. “We should get back. You’re about to have more company.”

Her eyes rounded. “What have you done?”

“I invited friends of ours.” Her expression was bleak, but when he stood and held out his hand, expecting her to ignore it, she laid her hand inside his.

“Ethan?” she asked, raising her face to stare him in the eyes.

“Yes, Bryn?”

A shaky breath blew through her pursed lips. “You have to protect me.”

“I will.”

She squeezed his hand hard. “You have to protect my sisters. You stole my choice and have likely filled me with your child. But I will make a bargain with you.”

A flare of elation filled him at the mention of a child. And something in the set of her chin, in her stiffening posture told him she wasn’t going to lament her fate any longer. There was hope she’d agree to their union. “What do you ask?”

“Don’t give them away. Accept that you’ve become my family, just as they are mine. And that it’s your responsibility to protect their free choice.”

Such a bargain was unheard of. Free choice? For witches? “You’d sacrifice yourself for them?”

Her gaze locked on his face. “Will it be a sacrifice, me giving myself to you?”

Ethan reached out both arms, challenge in his eyes. Bryn didn’t shrink from him as he brought her against his chest. He bent and brought his face close to hers. “If you surrender everything to me, I will fight with my last breath to give your sisters the choice of their mates.”

“And if they don’t want to accept one?”

“Then they will become part of our household.”

Still studying him, her gaze narrowed on his eyes.

He held his breath, not wanting to let her see the snarling beast inside him. She stared so long, he began to worry.

But then she rose on her tiptoes and reached behind his head to bring him the rest of the way down. Her nipples scraped his chest. Her mouth was an inch from his. “Then I am yours.”

It was a dangerous bargain. Outside the strictures of their society. But then he was a troll. Already an outcast, damned by his birth.

“We’d better hurry.”

The house was eerily silent when they stepped inside the kitchen. Bryn gave Ethan a questioning glance, but he shook his head. He took her by the hand and pulled her behind him as they made their way to the parlor.

Inside, she halted. The room was crowded with men. Others. She knew because each was perfectly formed as only otherworldly creatures could be. They appeared happy to see Ethan. So they were friends of his. She hoped he’d stay true to his word. Although now, she worried he might be torn to pieces when he told the group they couldn’t take the women.

Her sisters sat, four in a row on the couch, their hands clasped together, eyes wide as saucers. When they saw her, they all began shouting.

“They’re demons.”

“Ethan’s one of them.”

“They’ve come to claim us.”

“Fucking bastards.” That last comment came from Darcy whose green eyes flashed.

Bryn shook her head, telling them silently to be quiet. Then she bowed her head.

Her sisters gasped at her submissive gesture.

Ethan’s arm encircled her waist. He tipped up her face. “We made a bargain, and it didn’t include you bowing to my will.”

Her gaze clung to him. What was he doing?

His glance swept the men gathered in the parlor. There was over a dozen of them—dark and fair, burly and lean, all with shining eyes. Renner’s sea-bright gaze was so intense, she wondered how they’d missed the fact he was Other. All of the men shared the same hard-edged, feral look. Their expressions had grown shuttered, their gazes watchful. Even Renner, who had seemed so easygoing, was frowning.

“There are complications,” Ethan said. “Bryn was already claimed. But we’ve mated. She tells me she may already be pregnant. Her sisters,” he said, nodding to the quiet women, “are mine to protect.”

Renner stepped forward. “You’re keeping them? All of them?” he asked, his voice rising.

Ethan’s frown was fierce. “I won’t be bedding them. But they will remain in this house with us. And they have my protection. I’ve promised Bryn that her friends will be given their choice of mates.”

The expressions of all the men darkened, fierce scowls that made gooseflesh rise on Bryn’s arms.

Ethan squeezed her hand and glanced down at her. “Bryn was previously mated with a hellhound. Merrick, to be precise. And since you all know his reputation, you know that when he finds us, he’ll try his best to kill me. You have no obligation to stand with me. If you leave now, you won’t be implicated.”

Bryn offered him a small smile and then they both turned back to the group.

Renner’s gaze shot to the women. His frown eased as he gave each a thorough glance.

Bryn knew what he saw. Four very frightened but determined women.

He raised his head to meet Ethan’s stern glance. “I’m staying. I’ll help you protect them.”

There were murmurs from the group, but they stepped forward one by one and gave the same pledge.

Renner smiled ruefully. “For a low-life troll, you’ve certainly reached high.”

“As a bottom-dwelling draugr, you aren’t exactly standing on my shoulders.”

In truth, if all the men in the room were friends to a troll and a draugr, they were from the lowest echelons of demon spawn. It was easy to see that ambition to rise higher than their birthright and their kind had bonded them.

Ethan gave a nod. “So be it. Every woman will have three guards. You’ll work in shifts. One at night, two during the day. And we have to continue the bridge project.” His gaze went to Renner. “You make the assignments.”

Miren cleared her throat, drawing all the male gazes to where she sat on the couch. “Since we’re the ones who have to put up with you constantly underfoot, don’t you think we should choose our own bodyguards? I run a shrimping outfit. Who among you doesn’t lose his breakfast on a boat?”

Renner’s grin stretched. “I’m a sea-draugr.”

Two more raised their hands. “We’re mer-folk.”

And so the assignments were made according to common interests and powers.

Finding beds for all of them proved more challenging. The women took Bryn’s remaining empty rooms. Pallets were made up for the men in the upstairs hallway and on the porch, with one man stationed inside each of the witches’ rooms. Something the women seemed entirely too excited about.

“Sisters,” Bryn hissed after she pulled them into the kitchen for last-minute chat. “I know we’ve been without male company for a while, but you’ve been offered a gift. Don’t allow them to romance the right of choice out from under you.”

“So says the woman who has twice been claimed,” Darcy said with an arch of her red brow.

“Claimed once by a monster. As you well remember.” She sighed. “Please, take your time. We don’t know these men. For now, Ethan seems to have them roped in, but they’ve all caught your scents. We can’t have them challenging each other for your hands.”

“It’s not like we have to choose only one,” Miren said, but then pressed her lips into a narrow line at Bryn’s frown. “Just sayin’.”

Her sisters giggled.

“True,” said Darcy. “And how does one choose between a dragon and a gargoyle?” Darcy ran a crafters’ cottage, complete with pottery wheel and kiln. Her choices had naturally aligned with stone and fire.

Radha giggled. “The satyr offered to let me sheer his fur to make yarn on my spindle.”

Bryn couldn’t help it, a smile tugged at her mouth. “So long as you realize that the moment you accept a mate and he claims you, that the echo will sound.”

“Merrick and his friends might already know,” Aoife said. “How can we trust that every one of Ethan’s friends will keep his silence?”

“There are plenty of games we can play without risking an echo,” Darcy said with a graceful wave of her hand. “A little play might bind them closer to us.”

A rap sounded on the kitchen door. Ethan pushed through it. “The men are ready to bed down. It might be best for the women to retreat to their rooms.”

The sisters shared charged glances. “If anyone cries out,” Bryn whispered, “we shall all answer.”

They nodded, and then the women trailed out of the kitchen, leaving Bryn alone with Ethan.

Bryn sighed. “This is—”

“Complicated,” he finished. “I know. But you can trust me.”

“And should I trust the others?”

He arched one brow. “You don’t think they all fear a troll?”

She shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve never seen you in your true form.”

“And you won’t. Not unless I have to protect you.” He held out his hand. A hint of his earlier arousal was there in his dark eyes. “I’ll be staying in your room.”

Not a question, but she nodded, agreeing. “Of course.”

“Kahn and Sigurd understand that so long as they watch over you during the day, they are free to woo the others.”

She jutted her chin. “You didn’t offer them the chance to share?”

His grunt was wickedly masculine. “Do you really think you could handle more than me in your bed?”

She remembered the immense pressure. She was sure, once she was accustomed to his girth, that just the act of him entering her would be enough to set her off. “No. I don’t want another lover. And we have a bargain. You’re free to include that stipulation.”

“Then I will. Come to bed.”

As meek as a lamb, she allowed him to lead her through her house and up the wooden staircase. She passed the girls’ rooms, heard laughter, smelled the heady mix of testosterone and estrogen, of arousal so thick her own body began to warm, her breasts and pussy to thicken with her stirring blood.

She stepped around the pallet of blankets and quilts that Kahn had made for himself outside her door. He was jinn, and his talents would have more naturally aligned with Radha’s, but Bryn understood her sister’s reluctance to accept his proximity. He was seduction incarnate when he smiled. His mouth was sensual and mobile, his black eyes filled with mystery. He’d probably scared the dickens out of Radha.

“Sigurd’s on the porch,” Kahn said. “He wants to run in wolfskin tonight.”

She nodded, uncomfortable with the way the men talked openly about their true selves after having suppressed her own for so long except in front of her sisters.

Ethan followed her into her room and began to disrobe.

She stiffened.

He studied her face and stopped when he was wearing only his boxer briefs. “I’ll sleep on top of the covers.”

She shook her head. “We’ve passed that point. But this is an adjustment for me.”

“And I told you before we mated that I’d respect your right to tell me no.”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said, her eyes beginning to well with tears. Her need was strong. And he knew it. A tremble shook her frame and she gasped.

There was understanding in his eyes. Perhaps a little sympathy. A witch’s heightened state of arousal when in the company of a mate wasn’t something she was prepared to fight. Especially not when she knew the pleasure he would give her.

She turned and lifted her hair. And just as he had in the gazebo, he moved closer and pulled down her zipper.

Chapter Five

Ethan stripped her quickly, taking care with her pretty dress, but not so much with her underwear. It lay shredded on the floor at her feet.

“You’ll have to replace those,” she murmured as she glanced over her shoulder.

“You won’t be needing them again, ever.”

While she’d been frightened the first time she’d seen the greenish glow in his darkly hooded eyes, now the intensity of emotion that forest-green light betrayed only fueled her own passion. “You’d allow other men, human men, to see the prick of my nipples?”

His response was a deep, rumbling growl.

She smiled and turned to face him. “Can I tease you? Or will you unleash your inner self?”

“I’m in control. Always, Bryn. You’ll come to no harm with me.”

“And if I want a glimpse…?”

He gave a curt shake of his head. “You should know I’ve worked hard to curb my impulses. I don’t pounce, even when provoked. I don’t accept that side of me. I’ve seen the wreckage of lives a troll can leave in its wake.”

She gave him a small nod and then surrendered to the need to touch him. She smoothed her hands over his hard chest, raking her fingers in the dark hair cloaking his skin. She glided over his shoulders, following the ripple and curve of his arms.

She traced the shape of a tattoo on his shoulder and leaned to take a better look.

A rounded circle with scrolled legs. A troll cross. At its center, was the Nordic P-shaped rune—thorn. Which marked him as a protector. If she’d seen this in the gazebo, she’d have known exactly what he was even before she’d noticed the green glow of his troll eyes.

Leaning toward him, she licked a small flat nipple, enjoying his reaction, a shiver of delight that quivered down his belly. She followed that shiver, bending to trail her tongue over his ribs, licking along the curves carved into his muscled abdomen, an eight-pack that jumped and tightened the lower she traveled.

He fisted his hands in her hair but didn’t tug her in any direction. He allowed her to explore. So she went to her knees, roaming hands over his sides and hips. She nipped the skin of his lower abdomen, swirled her tongue in his navel and then nuzzled his sex, breathing in his earthy musk while she brushed her cheeks against the curling hairs coating his groin.

His half-hard cock stirred, filling steadily, rising upward without a kiss or a lick of encouragement. She sat on her haunches and stared, following its progress as it unfurled and straightened.

He was massive. Thick with gnarling veins rising like vines up the shaft. Fantastic for an inner massage, she thought. Her mouth watered and she rose on her knees to smooth her cheek up and down his length, rubbing on the soft, stretched skin, breathing in his scent, which drew a wet response from her. Her sex was growing engorged, hot and aching. She placed a heel beneath her pussy to press against it while she stuck out her tongue to lick her way up to his swollen crown.

Openmouthed, she wagged her head and circled him without latching around him, swiping her tongue over his surface as she learned how he tasted. Salty. Musky. Manly with a hint of grass. Troll.

Her bracelets jangled as she wrapped both hands around his shaft and tilted his cock toward her mouth. Working him with sideways twists, she closed her lips and drew hard on him, sucking, her tongue exploring the texture of his cap, finding the eyelet opening and teasing it.

She glanced upward to find he’d thrown back his head. The tension in his strong jaw had muscles rippling along the edge. She sank deeper, taking more of him into her mouth, and gloried in the hard scrape of his nails against her scalp.

“Enough,” he growled, shoving her backward. She landed on her rump, legs sprawled.

He glanced down, his chest billowing with deep breaths.

The sight of him, so large and so intensely aroused was its own magic. She pushed up from the floor, walked on trembling legs to the bed and bent over the mattress, stretching out her arms to sink her hands into the soft cotton coverlet where they bunched.

He followed closely behind and molded his hands over her bottom, his grip not the least gentle, rotating her cheeks, together, apart, while his feet nudged hers to widen her stance. And then he bent over her, hands braced beside her shoulders.

He licked her. A long swipe from the center of her shoulders upward. Another growl sounded, and she smiled, knowing if she looked back she’d see the animal, the troll peeking out of his glowing eyes.

His cock slid between her cheeks, gave her a grind that made her breath catch. Goddess, she wanted him. Wanted his thickness inside her. Wanted his strength overwhelming her. She wanted to be taken, used…fucked hard and long.

And she didn’t want him holding back. Didn’t want gentleness or restraint. He believed his inner demon was an animal. Well, she wanted that ogre-like strength and ferocity hammering right between her legs.

He clapped a hand against her swollen pussy. “Witch.” He thrust a thick finger inside her. “Wet.”

So he was past stringing words together. A good sign. She bumped up her ass, gave it a wag. A blunt, lewd invitation.

His torso came down on top of her, pinning her beneath him with his weight. “Stop,” he bit out.

She reached back and clawed at his neck, clutched his ears and pulled while she tried to buck.

He gave a low growl and pushed his cock against her opening. He angled his hips from side to side as he worked the blunt head into her pussy. “Hot,” he rasped, “Fuck.”

She sobbed with excitement, raked him again with her nails. “Fuck me, Ethan. Just fuck.”

He arched upward. Gripped her hips. A strong push forced his cock deeper, another push made her hiss between her teeth because he was doing it, giving her exactly what she’d incited him to give.

He began to thrust, each deeper than the last. Her channel heated with the friction and stretch. Moisture seeped around him, coaxed from her core, easing his intrusion. The sounds he made as he pumped, the choked, rasping growls as he churned inside her, made her whimper, had her mewling with pleasure and painful urgency.

She reached behind her, touched his hip and scratched again, nails biting into his skin, demanding more of his rough, plunging movements.

The bed shook, creaked and then scraped on the floor as it shifted with his hard strokes. She was there, almost there, not needful of a finger sliding on her clit.

Suddenly, he pulled away. Left her. She pushed up and glanced behind her. His eyes glowed, his frame was thick, muscles clenched, veins tracing the contours of his arms and thighs. Sweat gleamed on the ridges of his chest and abdomen.

His hands were curled into tight fists and his face was screwed up into such a fierce, frightening scowl, she knew he was barely holding on. She backed off the bed and stood, quivering with need and want but knowing he’d never forgive himself if he hurt her.

Not trusting herself to speak because she knew she’d beg, she pointed toward the bed. He stalked closer, butted his chest against her and hung his head, his expression so terrible, so beautiful her chest tightened, stealing her ability to breathe. “Lie down,” she whispered. “Grasp the rails. I’ll give you what you need.”

His face descended. His mouth was curled in a snarl, but he nuzzled her cheek, sent harsh gusts of breath into her ear. A shudder shook his tall frame, but he backed away, gave her a blistering glare and then sat on the bed, lay back, reaching his hands upward to wrap around the spokes of her headboard.

She hoped the thick oak dowels wouldn’t splinter. When he was staring at the ceiling, she climbed onto the mattress, lifted a thigh and straddled his hips. Rising on her knees, she reached for his cock, fisted it with her hand and guided it to her folds.

Just like her dream. She bent over him, pushed down on him and felt the enormous pressure as she crowded downward, taking him. Something was missing.

She glanced at the curtained window, raised a hand in the air and jerked it, causing the curtain rings to glide on the metal rod. An upward flick of her fingers raised the window. Wind rushed through the opening. Moonlight drenched the bed and their bodies.

She shook back her hair and stared down at him. “I’m a witch, but not as delicate as I appear.” Leaning back, breasts thrust out, she drew the moonlight, wrapped it around her body, let it cloak her and sink into her skin.

Then she bent over him and pressed her lips against his snarling mouth. It softened beneath hers. He angled his head and returned the sweet pressure, added suction to his kiss, suction that pulled the moon into his body.

Their communion was sweet and hotter than anything she’d ever shared with the hellhound. Wind gusted against the window, blew inside, lifting her hair and whipping at the tendrils. And still, they kissed, until she heard a rumbling, not from her troll, but from the shuddering of the floors beneath the bed.

There were shouts outside their bedroom, footsteps pounding on oak floors and then the door, but she and Ethan were sheltered at the center of the storm. Static crackled. Electricity arced.

He released the dowels and clamped his fingers on her buttocks. They broke the kiss as the storm heightened, clouds stealing through the open window to push against the ceiling, flashes of light brightening and then darkening in their misty depths.

In the back of her mind, she knew what was happening. Knew there was danger. Knew this was impossible. She’d already been claimed. She’d already mated, and yet here they were at the center of the new storm, a binding that echoed through the ether and heralded a new beginning.

A new beginning with a new mate and a resounding stamp of approval from the Powers That Be. Bryn decided to let go of any doubts she’d held about what they were doing. She’d trust in the Goddess and the demon watching her so closely now.

She smiled, loving the curve of his mouth as he stared up at her. He moved his hands from her hips to her breasts and fondled the pendant dancing between her breasts—the mother symbol, bloated with child. Bryn closed her eyes, breathing harder when he moved to tweak her nipples, pulling and pinching the tips, drawing them into exquisitely aroused points before smoothing downward again.

The roar of voices in the distance receded as she bent and braced against his chest. His bruising grip lifted her and shoved her downward, again and again. They pushed together, drew apart, catching the rhythm of their heartbeats, the pace of their deepening breaths.

Below, her sex clenched around him, ripples moving up and down her inner channel, caressing him, accepting him, gripping him and holding him inside her.

She dug her fingertips into his skin. “I’m there,” she whispered.

“We’ll soar together,” he said, his voice deep, echoing around her. “Once bound, we’ll never part.”

He’d said the words. She had no time to gasp. He rolled them and came over her. Quickly, he shoved up her legs, forced her ankles to lock behind his neck and then he took over, pistoning inside her, faster and faster.

Tears leaked down her cheeks, her hands roamed his face, touched his shoulders. How could this be? This perfection, this brilliant storm. When the moment came, she dug the back of her head into the pillow and screamed as licking fire and static flooded her body and blackness closed around her.

Ethan sagged against her as his balls clenched and he emptied himself inside her.

A thud sounded against the door. He lowered her legs and covered her with his body.

The frame gave, the door splintered, and Renner and Khan fell through the opening, the women and more of his men crowding into the room to stare at the clouds now dissipating, wisping away.

Darcy shoved past Renner and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at Ethan, her glance going to Bryn’s slackened features. “What the hell have you done?”

Ethan raked a hand through his hair and leaned on an elbow to allow Bryn to breathe more easily. “She’s mine. Claimed. Blessed by your Goddess. There can be no arguing my right.”

Darcy’s eyes filled and dropped to Bryn. “Is she even breathing?”

Bryn’s sex pulsed around his cock, a sexy caress that caused him to stir inside her again. An aftereffect, he knew. She was still unconscious. “She breathes.”

Renner shook his head. “Well, if they didn’t know where we were before, the council’s seeress can point them straight here now. Others in this area can’t have missed the echo.”

“You all came prepared for battle,” Ethan said, frowning at the group still hovering inside the room.

Beneath him, Bryn moaned. Her eyelids drifted sleepily open. Her mouth began to curve as she looked at him, but then she glanced to the side. “Oh Goddess, we’ve gone and done it now.”

Ethan laughed. He couldn’t help it. He was filled with elation.

Bryn’s mouth tightened. She glared at him and slipped her hands between their chests to cover her breasts.

He sighed and reached down to pull the edge of the covers over their nude bodies, although all that was visible of her was sprawled legs. His entire backside had been in full view.

Not that he minded one bit. Theirs was an openly sexual society. Uninhibited by humans’ odd rules regarding modesty.

Her sex clenched again, and his body began to relax, enjoying the feel of her beneath him, of the warmth and wetness that surrounded his cock. “You should leave,” he said, not looking at his men or the sister witches, but at Bryn’s stark gaze.

“Sorry about the door,” Renner muttered.

Their audience shuffled away. The door creaked on strained hinges and several hard pulls finally closed it.

Ethan settled his elbows on either side of Bryn and gave her a nudge with his thickening cock. “There’s more.”

She shoved at his chest. “This is all my fault,” she said, her voice a thin wail.

“How is it yours? I’m here too. And I think I did most of the work.”

The corners of her mouth turned downward. “I wished I’d never been claimed by Merrick. Last night, when we drew down the moon. I wished it. Wished you were Other. That we could be together. I wished for a child.”

“So many wishes…” He smiled inside. She’d wanted him even thinking he was human. For more than just his seed.

“I’ve put us all in danger. Stupid. Stupid.” Tears gleamed in her eyes.

“Bryn, we can’t fight fate. But I will fight Merrick and anyone else who comes for you.”

Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She blinked, sending one sliding into her hair. “The echo…” She shook her head. “It was so much stronger this time.”

“Because we were meant to be.” He felt it to his toes. Which was why he couldn’t be concerned about repercussions. About what their lovemaking might bring down on them all.

He pushed back the covering and slid his hands beneath her body, down to the sweet round curve of her ass. He gave it a squeeze and flexed his hips, reminding her they were still connected, and that he wasn’t nearly finished.

“We should join them,” she said, gasping. “Plan for a defense.”

“There’s time for that. Later. We shouldn’t disappoint your Goddess.” He lowered his eyelids. “Are you sore?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I have a tree trunk shoved up my vagina, what do you think?”

He grinned. “Are you too sore?”

Bryn huffed. “This is what it’s going to be like, isn’t it? You lolling in bed. Wanting to fuck morning, noon and night. I’ve heard tales about you trolls.”

Ethan nuzzled her ear. “And every one of them is true,” he whispered. Leaning on one elbow, a hand still clamped on a soft buttock, he began to rut in shallow thrusts, because she’d admitted she was sore.

But soon the mattress springs squeaked and the headboard banged against the wall. Bryn’s tears dried as she answered his challenge, raking her nails over his back.

Ethan relished the battle to come—with her, with the hellhound who would track them to the bayou. Trolls were warriors. Born to fight. He’d been made for this. Shaped in rock and sweat just for her.

Chapter Six

The next afternoon, the women gathered in the kitchen to prepare the evening meal. With so many to feed, all hands were needed. Besides, after the previous night’s events, the witches were confined to the house. Orders from Ethan at breakfast. The women had contacted their workers and made excuses for why they wouldn’t be coming in for a few days—relatives from out of town.

And although his assumption of authority rankled, Bryn conceded he was right. It was no longer safe for them outside.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t have gone out on the boat today,” Miren said. “We’d have been out on the ocean, a draugr and two mermen to protect me. Who the hell could get to me there?”

“A whale?” Darcy raised an eyebrow. “One call on a conch from someone like Liliana, and you’d have been in the drink, matey. Garrr,” she said in mock pirate voice.

But no one laughed. Mention of the council’s high priestess only turned the mood inside the kitchen more sour. Liliana had been the one who’d pushed for Bryn’s alliance with the hellhound. She was only interested in increasing witches’ power, which any witch would agree could be a good thing. But Liliana served her own selfish purpose. During their ceremonies and rites, she pulled all their power, making herself the focal entity. A star among her kind and the most powerful ally to the rulers.

Liliana’s ethereal blonde beauty belied her ugly heart. Something Bryn and her friends had seen from the start of Liliana’s rise.

“Do you think she’ll come?” Aoife said in a small voice.

“Since she sleeps with Merrick, I doubt she’ll let him come alone.” Bryn glanced up at the others. Liliana hadn’t hidden her interest in Merrick. In fact, she’d tried on more than one occasion to draw Bryn into a threesome, a chance to drain Bryn of her strength to feed herself and Merrick. Bryn felt nothing but revulsion for the pair, and even though Merrick had been her mate, she’d been only too happy when he stayed away at night.

She wouldn’t be so tolerant with Ethan. Not that she believed he would ever betray her. There was an upside to mating beneath your station.

Bryn winced at the snarky thought and pounded harder on the steak she was tenderizing.

“Ooh, you’d think she’d be in a better mood,” Darcy said, narrowing her eyes on Bryn.

Bryn bent her head. “I can feel you staring,” she muttered.

Darcy moved closer and set her chin on Bryn’s shoulder. “So tell us, what’s it like being with a troll?”

“A troll.” Miren shivered. “I still can’t believe that.”

Bryn beat the meat with her tenderizing mallet harder. No way was she going to give the women a play-by-play of what had happened between her and Ethan. She still quivered just thinking about it.

“I did a little research on Vindlér Construction.”

All gazes swung to Aoife.

Aoife shrugged. “An internet search. They have quite the story. Seems Ethan and Renner came south with a few of their buddies after Katrina hit. They didn’t have two pennies to rub together but managed to get construction contracts for the reconstruction in New Orleans—roads, bridges and even a couple of schools. They aren’t hurting now.”

Radha snorted. “Trolls building bridges. How cliché is that?”

Beyond annoyed with her sisters, Bryn set aside her mallet and walked to the sink. She washed her hands, took off her apron and headed to the back door.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch,” Radha said.

Bryn glanced over her shoulder. “And I forgive you. But snarking on Ethan doesn’t accomplish anything. Yes, he’s a troll. I’m fucking a troll. But I’ll tell you this, you should all be so lucky.”

She let the door slam behind her and stepped farther onto the porch.

“You don’t have to defend me to your friends.”

Bryn glanced to her side. Ethan stood there wearing jeans and a faded gray tee. Looking deliciously disheveled with mud on his boots and dirt stains on his clothing. “I know that. But they made me angry.”

“Because they were talking trash about me?”

“Because they were disrespecting my choice. It’s not all about you.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen door. “They resent being cooped up. And they’re likely feeling edgy and more than a little horny. So many of you around, and yet they can’t…taste the pie.”

One side of his mouth curved upward in a sexy crooked grin that made her stomach cramp.

“They have plenty of choices. Why not choose a partner?”

“Because they don’t want to be used. Owned. Don’t want to have every decision they make approved by a male. They want to keep their magic for themselves.”

“Do you feel as though you’ve lost anything…being with me?”

“I gave it away. To you, last night,” she said softly. “Willingly. And isn’t that the greater risk? To fall into a relationship, into love, and lose your sense of self? We’ve been on our own for five years. What we have, we built.”

“And you’ve done well. You’ve prospered.” Ethan reached out and took her hand.

Her fingers tingled, just a tiny spark that she doubted he’d intentionally given her, but every spark was power lost. Didn’t he understand that was what they all feared—giving away their precious light because they couldn’t help themselves?

Bryn cleared her throat. “Thank your friends for keeping it in their pants.”

He pursed his mouth. Humor shone in his dark eyes. “I’ll do that.” He stroked his thumb slowly over her palm.

Another tingle worked its way up her arm. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?” he murmured.

Were her breasts tingling? Did she feel a tug in her groin? Oh, yeah. “It’s been only five hours since we last made love.”

He arched a brow. “You’ve never called it that before. As I recall, you call it fucking, as in ‘fuck me hard, troll’.”

Bryn’s jaw dropped. “Is that how I sound to you?”

“Did I complain?”

“No, but…it was hardly respectful.”

“Seeing as you were allowing me to fuck you, I didn’t mind one bit.”

Bryn lowered her head. “I guess I’m having a bit of trouble wrapping my mind around it all. You being a troll,” she whispered. “Me wanting you so much.”

He lifted her face with a finger and bent toward her. “You can call it what you like. So long as you continue to want me.”

But it wasn’t just attraction. Wasn’t merely the call of her witchy libido. She stared into his eyes and realized she’d felt drawn to him, pulled closer and closer by invisible bonds since the start. “I don’t want to think of you as being beneath me. Of me being superior or more important. You’ve proven you’re smart and capable and in control of your base instincts. While I’m…” She was the one who whirled out of control every time he touched her.

Ethan kissed her. Maybe just to shut her up, but she didn’t care. She bunched his shirt in her fists and pulled him closer. “I can’t get enough of this, of you,” she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his.

He brought his arms around her and hugged her hard, rocking on his heels, soothing away her riotous thoughts. Standing in the circle of his arms, she felt somehow…complete.

Her heart slowed, her body relaxed. Sparks flew along her skin as he rubbed her back. She imagined herself spilling into him and released a bit of moonlight. Shared it with him. Happy to do it.

When she pulled away, she gave a laugh, feeling sheepish over her upwelling emotions. They barely knew each other, and here she was falling in love. But what did he feel?

Ethan kissed her forehead. “Better now?”

“I am.”

“You should stay inside.”

“I know.” She sighed again. “Why are you here? Is it your turn to circle the porch?”

“I felt you.”

She canted her head. “What do you mean?”

“You were agitated, and I felt it.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s unusual.”

“Not when you’re bonded, or so I understand.”

“I never felt that way with Merrick.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Should have been your first clue.”

She patted his chest and noted the sudden tension in his muscles. He didn’t like thinking of her with Merrick. “I’m going inside now.”

He loosened his arms and she immediately missed feeling him against her. She was beginning to crave the comfort of his broad chest. When she turned away, a slap landed on her bottom. She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a glare, but he grinned that crooked smile that made him seem somehow boyish.

Stepping inside, she couldn’t hide her silly grin. But she wiped it off her face the moment she glanced at her friends.

Miren shook her head, but the corners of her mouth twitched. Aoife and Radha rolled their eyes. Darcy wore a bullish scowl.

“What?” Bryn asked, her tone belligerent.

“It’s so not fair,” Darcy said, and then smiled sheepishly. “I’d love to want someone so much I couldn’t keep my hands off him.”

Aoife sighed. “It’s romantic. A witch and a troll. Like a fairytale.”

“Beauty and Beast,” Miren said, her tone dreamy.

“He’s no beast,” Bryn muttered. But he was—deep inside where his green-eyed monster lurked. And didn’t they all need a beast on their side?

Ethan found Renner in the driveway. Several of the men were reparking cars and trucks to minimize the space they took up. Something to do while they waited for danger to arrive.

Renner had a cell phone against his ear, and the hard look in his eyes had Ethan stiffening.

“Thanks for the warning,” Renner said and ended his call. “That was Hamdir. His cousin up north works at the council’s airstrip. They’ve chartered a flight. No plan was filed, but Merrick was one of the passengers, along with three of the council members.”

Ethan nodded. It was no coincidence. “Did he say how many enforcer-types were with him?”

“Eight. But there’s no telling how many they’re calling in from this region. Guess the fight’s coming to us.”

“Better inventory our weapons. Set up a perimeter. They’ll be rushing to use the last of the blue moon before its power wanes completely. We have to be ready tonight.”

Renner nodded. “What are you going to tell the women?”

Ethan grimaced. “The truth. They have a say in this—whether to fight or surrender.”

“And Bryn?”

Ethan recalled the worry haunting her eyes and hated that he was going to have to bring her more bad news. “I’m not letting her go, Renner. She’s mine. We’re bound. And since her bond with Merrick was broken completely last night, he won’t want her back. If he captures her, he’ll kill her. The council will demand her death as well—as an example to all witches.” He curled his fists tightly.

Renner’s expression grew grim. “Would it be smarter to run?”

Ethan shook his head. “I’ll ask, but I doubt the women will be willing. They’ve worked hard to build a life here. They’re not going to give it up without a fight.”

Ethan left Renner as he gathered the men to tell them what they’d learned. He headed back to the kitchen but found the women in the parlor, peeking behind the curtains at the men outside.

“So you heard?” he asked as he entered the room.

Radha dropped the curtain. Her pale face was nearly translucent. As was Aoife’s.

Bryn walked to his side and laid her hand on his arm. “Are we being selfish, asking you to stand and fight?”

Ethan cupped his free hand over hers. “If we run, we’ll be hunted for all our days.”

“Do you think we stand a chance?”

Her eyes glistened with tears, and he felt a pang in his chest. He’d do anything to keep her safe, even give his life. But her fate had been sealed with the resounding echo the night before. They had no choice except enter the battle. “I don’t know. It depends on the council members. They’ll sanction a battle, but they can set the rules. We have to hope they’ll allow champions to fight.”

“Our champion would be you?” Her voice wavered.

He cupped her cheek. “I have the most to gain or lose. And Merrick will demand it.”

“But he’s a hellhound. How can you win?”

“Baby, I’m a troll. Have a little faith.” He gave her a crooked smile. “But I could use some magic.”

“Merrick will have Liliana at his side. She’ll have funneled every bit of energy she can to aid him.”

“And I have five witches with so much more at stake than just personal gain. Don’t you think your Goddess will have our backs?”

Bryn’s smile began slowly and then stretched across her face. She sniffed and tilted her head, a silent plea for a caress, which he gave her. He slid his hand along her cheek and threaded his fingers in her hair. He bent and kissed her soft mouth.

“Sex magic works well too,” Darcy said, her tone wry.

When he shot her a glance, it was to see her eyes alight with mischief. So maybe Darcy wasn’t completely anti-troll.

She shrugged. “We can do some spellwork, prepare the herbs and the crystals. When night falls, we’ll gather at the oak.”

An open plain. A place for the Others to move freely. Protecting a structure like a house was confining for demons. Ethan nodded. “Why don’t you let the men know? They’ll prepare the field.” He glanced down at Bryn.

Her gaze slid sideways. “You’ll have to finish preparing the steaks on your own,” she said to her sisters.

“I think we can manage,” Radha said. “Go do what you need to do. We’ll batten down the glassware if the house shakes.”

Bryn’s blush was a deep pink. “She’s exaggerating.”

He snorted. “Is she?”

Laughter followed them as they left the room hands clasped. At the stairway, Ethan swept her up into his strong arms.

“You should be saving your strength.”

Ethan ignored her. She was as light as a feather. He didn’t break his stride. His breathing remained even. At her door, he shouldered it open, then walked to the bed and dumped her on top of the mattress, where she bounced, giggling.

Not bothering to remove clothing because he was already too eager, he roughly shoved up her skirt, gratified she’d foregone underwear. Likely to conserve her panties since he didn’t have patience with lacy bits that only got in his way.

Her hands were busy too, opening his belt, unbuttoning his pants. When she reached inside to free his cock, he shook his head, trying to clear it of the blinding heat that stole his self-control. “Easy there,” he ground out when she tightened her grip on his shaft.

But she was pulling now, hard. Opening her legs and bringing him closer, placing his head right at her entrance. Moist heat, lots of it, greeted him. But he was hard and thick, and she really should wait until he’d played with her pussy, prepared her with his fingers, gently stretched her and made her so aroused there’d be no pain.

When she lifted her hips and forced him inside, he was lost. Just the cap was surrounded by her slick sex, but her eyes, sleepy lids falling to darken her stormy blue to navy, drew him. He thrust inward, gritting his teeth at the snug fit. “You should have let me do this right.”

“You are, I promise. So right.”

Not able to withdraw, he ripped apart her shirt and clamped a hand on a naked breast. As he thrust, he played with her nipple, twisting, tugging. Her body tensed beneath him, and he felt the clench of her muscles all around him every time he gave her a tweak. Liquid heat seeped around him, easing his harsh entry.

He took her mouth, grunting when she bit his tongue. He pumped faster, plunging harder inside her and leaned to the other side to tease her other breast. He pulled the tip and let it snap back again and again, and then pinched it hard, only satisfied when she growled and groaned and her nails striped his back.

Her hips were curving, tilting to let him thrust deeper. She bucked and writhed, each movement increasing the friction as the wildness rode them both.

And then the moment shattered in an explosion of heat and light as their mutual pleasure eclipsed. She spilled moonlight into his body that hardened his muscles, bulking them outward. He pummeled her sweet channel, jagged shards of electric delight delivered inward and sparked from his hand at her breast.

The strength of their sharing made them both cry out. In the distance, he heard the slamming of the bed frame against the wall and floor, the shudder of the house, the tinkle of the overhead chandelier, but he couldn’t stop. The moment stretched and darkness fell around them.

When he came back to himself, he jerked, his eyelids slamming open. Fear gripped him. He’d lost himself. Had he harmed her?

But she was wound around him, arms and legs holding tightly to his frame. Her mouth showered his face with kisses.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she sobbed, drawing him deeper and deeper. They were one, blended in light and electricity, the air sizzling around them, sparking, humming.

He rolled and brought her over him. Waited as she dragged deep breaths into starved lungs. He stroked her back, her buttocks, nuzzled her cheeks.

“Bryn.”

Everything inside him, every thought coalesced in that one word. She was everything. His heart, his mate, his love. Together, they were more powerful. He felt it with a bone-deep certainty. As he drew away, pushing back her hair and framing her lovely face, he knew he’d never forget this moment. Until he drew his last breath, she was imprinted in his mind.

“Do you think they noticed?” she asked, a sleepy smile turning up the corners of her mouth like a kitten’s.

“Sweetheart, I think the heavens heard.”

Chapter Seven

In the last fullness of the blue moon, they gathered in the field around the large oak. Torches burned, struck into the dirt. The women were nude, having gathered their nerve to shed their modesty with so many males in the clearing.

They’d drawn down the moon and stood with gleaming skin. They were evenly spaced around the oak, each guarded by three men who stood outside the torch-lit circle, facing outward. The witches had gifted each man with a final dance to empower them if they were called to battle.

A pearlescent glimmer now lit the men’s naked skin. Something the army gathering at the edges of the clearing couldn’t miss.

Ethan glanced back at Bryn. Her expression was serene. Trusting. In his strength, in their bond and the approval of her Goddess. After they’d made love that afternoon, Bryn had said she’d felt approval, a whisper in her ear the moment before they’d climaxed.

A blessing from above, he believed. Love had poured from them both, filled them both. They’d shared in each other’s power. When Bryn had glided a fingertip along his cheek, he’d felt a spark. A troll spark.

Above them, clouds gathered, wisping around the moon but never obscuring it. Distant thunder rumbled, glimmers of light bursting now and then in thick thunderheads. He glanced at Renner. Their god was with them too. Hammer ready. They were all ready, empowered, willing to throw down skin and fur, tridents and lightning. Ethan’s heart thudded loud and strong, the dull tattoo of pending warfare.

The Others encircled them, closing around the outer circle, dark figures dressed in black, faces darkened with earth and blood. They were armed according to their traditions—swords, tritons, teeth and fists.

Ethan’s stony fists would be his only weapons.

Approaching now, the hellhound let loose a fearful growl, his large paws kicking up clods of dirt. And there beside him, her hand clenched in the fur on his back, was Liliana.

Ethereal and deadly. Beautiful beyond compare. She glowed, but her aura wasn’t pure, didn’t shine like white pearls. It shimmered, red and cloudy, murky with evil. Her pale silvery eyes glowed like the hellhound’s. They’d bound their futures and their strengths.

Three tall gaunt men strode beside the pair, skin slightly gray, eyes completely black. Revenants, immortals who sat on the council due to their long memories. One of them lifted a thin hand and pointed a spindly finger, his gaze going beyond Ethan’s shoulder to Bryn. “You have broken with our rules.”

A shudder rippled through Ethan at the leathery tone of the old one’s voice. He drew a deep breath and fisted his hands tighter at his sides. He didn’t dare look back at Bryn to reassure her, not with the hellhound staring him down.

“Your rule wasn’t just,” her voice came, the lovely husky texture unbroken by any doubt. “I was bound against my will with Merrick. My Goddess has given me her blessing, allowed me my own choice. My own champion.”

The revenant canted his head to the side. He peered with his black eyes at Bryn and then at Ethan. His lips thinned, exposing the tips of his white fangs. “You are impudent. Disrespectful of your betters. Only a battle will determine who is blessed.” He shook his finger. “Know this, if your champion fails, you will both die.”

Ethan let out the breath he’d been holding, relieved the others would be spared. “I am her champion.”

“Of course you are, troll.” The revenant’s lips drew up in a derisive snarl. “You reach beyond your birth. Born a troll, you should have been satisfied to crawl out from under your bridge.”

Ethan’s back stiffened with anger blasting hot throughout his body. “I am a troll, and proudly so. I stand as champion for the witch and her sisters. Should I prevail, you will leave us alone. All of us. The women will have their choice of mates. The Others in this circle will stand outside your rule.”

The old one’s gaze swept the circle. “If he wins, you will be dead to us. Outside our protection. Banished forever. Should you cross paths with the righteous, there will be no sanctions should they kill you.” He drew back his head, lifting his chin. “Should you lose, troll, the witches will be returned to their masters. Your friends will be made slaves. All that you have achieved for yourselves will be lost.”

Ethan sucked in a deep breath. He glanced around him, at his friends. Their faces were drawn into harsh lines, but to a man, they gave him nods. “So be it. Unleash your hound.”

Before he had a chance to move away and brace for the impact, the hellhound lunged. Ethan was too close to the circle, too close to Bryn and the men next to him. He roared and grappled with the hound’s fur, afraid to release the hellhound in case it hurt those around him.

The hound went for his throat, teeth bared and snapping. Ethan gripped its neck and held it back, rolling with it away from the circle. His grip gave.

A snap ripped into his shoulder.

Ethan bellowed with rage.

The hellhound leapt away and Ethan pushed up from the ground, felt blood roll down his shoulder. He tried to curl his left fist, but it dangled there.

Fury beat inside his chest. He was far enough away now. Bryn, close your eyes! He roared and shook his head. Beat his chest with his good fist and wakened his inner demon. As quickly as he summoned it, his mind drew away, looking down on his body as he lumbered toward the hound.

“Water, Fire, Earth and Air,

Elementals, hear our prayers.

Wash away our warrior’s pain.

Make his fists as swift as licking flame.

Let the ground shake beneath his mighty frame.

Let winds blow, the sky bellow, and his mighty hammer crush.

Water, Fire, Earth and Air…”

He glanced toward the women, but their mouths weren’t moving. And yet he heard the chanting, felt it inside him, growing louder.

Liliana screeched and rushed past the old one, who caught her with one of his slender hands. Again, she shouted and jerked against his hold. “They’re interfering!” she said, pointing at the women. “They’re helping him.”

The old one lowered his face to hers. “They are praying to your Goddess. Why can’t you do the same?”

She jerked again, pulled free and rushed past him, her arms raised, light shooting from her fingertips.

Ethan felt searing heat explode against his side. He jerked and was instantly back inside the beast, facing another lunge from the hound that took him to the ground.

From the corner of his eye, he watched the old one grip Liliana’s long blonde hair, halting her. Her eyes grew wide, her lips drew back in a snarl as she gave Ethan a lethal glare. Again, she raised her hand, pointing fingers.

The revenant behind her, gave her long tresses a violent shake, using it like a whip. Her neck broke. She fell like a ragdoll to the ground.

The hellhound standing on Ethan’s chest raised his head and bellowed, letting loose a deafening squall.

Ethan swatted him aside, flipped upward to his feet and launched himself at the hound who was writhing now on the ground. He might only have a few moments before the hellhound recovered from the painful withdrawal.

“Water, Fire, Earth and Air…” The men’s voices joined the chant inside his head. He felt lighter, his steps no longer leaden. He balled his good fist and hammered down on the hellhound’s skull. A sickening thud sounded as it gave.

All was suddenly silent. Lightning raced across the sky and a moment later, rain pelted him. He sagged to his knees beside the large, furred body, all strength gone.

Arms surrounded him. Bryn hugged him, burying her face against chest. It was over. Rain was Thor’s blessing. Thunder cracked but lightning never touched the field.

He glanced back to the gathering army. But the field was empty except for Merrick’s furry corpse and Liliana’s body, her pale eyes unblinking. Ethan rose on unsteady legs and pulled Bryn away from the gruesome sight.

The torches hissed and went out one by one. The moon was cloaked by cloud. The witches and his demon friends stood silently in the darkness.

Aoife cleared her throat timidly. “Does anyone remember where we left our clothes?”

Bryn stood near the bedroom door as Radha worked her healing magic on the wound to Ethan’s shoulder. The hound had ripped through muscle, torn the troll’s cross on his arm. Radha had stitched him up because Bryn’s own hands were still shaking too much to hold a needle. And now, Radha laid her hands on the wound to seal the edges of the laced skin, her head lowered.

Ethan hissed, but when her sister pulled back her hand, the raw skin was closed and a healthy pink.

“Make a fist,” Radha said and then smiled as Ethan complied. “All better. Too bad I don’t have a SpongeBob Band-Aid to cover it with.”

Ethan snorted and a tired smile revealed a flash of his white teeth. “Thank you, Radha.” He lifted his head to take in the entire group. “Thank you all. I wouldn’t have survived without your help.”

“Liliana lost the battle,” Darcy said. “The moment she tried to enter the fight against the council’s wishes, she lost.”

No one mentioned her horrible death. And Bryn hadn’t asked what had happened to the bodies on the field. She didn’t want to know. “Yes, thank you all,” she said, “but he needs rest now.”

Covered in bits of grass, mud and blood, Ethan sat with a towel over his privates on the edge of the bed. He’d been in too much pain to dress on the field, and Renner and Sigurd had carried him back between them. The journey back had seemed a crawl.

The women stopped to give her hugs as everyone headed out. Bryn’s shoulders lowered. She was exhausted. Beyond tired. And at the back of it, she was also numb. Where did they stand now? Would the men regret the fact they had sunk their futures within the demon realm by siding with them?

“Bryn, come here.”

She hurried over to Ethan. “Do you need help to get into bed?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Radha has me well on my way to healing. And the tea she forced down my throat before she started sewing me like a quilt took away the pain. I’m fine. But you look spent.” He patted his knee. “I need you here.”

Gingerly, she lowered to his knee, careful of the many scratches to his neck and shoulders as she wrapped her arm around him. It was a strong knee. Thick, powerful. She leaned her head against him, breathing in his musky scent.

“I know. I need a bath.”

She shook her head against his skin. “A shower. She closed the wound, but I don’t trust you might open a stitch all the same.”

“I’m not sure I can manage a shower on my own.”

His tone gave his intentions away. There was a hint of passion and humor in the deep rumble.

She smoothed her hand down his belly and beneath the towel to cup his cock.

He ringed his fingers around her wrist and pulled it away. “We bathe first. I don’t want to fuck you with his blood on me.”

“I’ll help you—seeing as how weak you are,” she drawled.

They shared wry smiles before she slid off his knee and headed to the bathroom where she gathered towels and washcloths. She started the water, letting it shower over her fingers until it warmed.

“It’s ready,” she said and turned, bumping into his chest because he stood so close.

He skimmed her robe upward. She raised her hands. The garment went sailing. She stepped into the shower with his hands cupping her ass, and the water fell like a gentle rain, wetting her hair and face. She went to the back of the tiled shower, away from the spray, and waited for him to enter. Ethan’s large frame crowded into the space, and he stood with his back to the falling water, staring down at her.

This was a new experience for her. Bathing with a man. Merrick hadn’t been romantic. Hadn’t wanted her except when he was hungry and she was the only one near to give him satisfaction. Ethan seemed to crave her company every bit as she hungered for his.

When he reached for her and began to roam his hands over her skin, she stepped away. “Let me bathe you. Please.”

Ethan’s expression was set, impossible to read, but he dropped his hands.

After soaping a washcloth, Bryn skirted around him. She started with the back of his shoulders and washed in small circular movements down his back to the top of his buttocks, avoiding any raw scratches. Shy of touching him there, she moved around him, letting the water wash away the soap on his back and keeping her head ducked because her cheeks were heating. She gently washed his chest, moved the cloth over his ribs and lower abdomen and then, taking a deep breath, she knelt at his feet.

Ethan leaned back and put his head beneath the water, letting it sluice down his chest. She watched the fat rivulets trace over the ridges of muscle, snaking downward to the hair at his groin.

She set aside the cloth and leaned toward him, following instinct. She needed to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him in her mouth. Her tongue followed the downward curve of his semi-flaccid cock. She gathered him in her hands and opened her mouth, taking as much of his sex inside as she could hold. Then she slowly drew on him, backing away as he filled, her lips sucking, drawing on him, coaxing him into a full erection.

He made no sounds, but she couldn’t help the whimpers she emitted, the ragged sobs that began to shake her as she pleasured him. He might have been lost to her forever. They both might have died. The child that might be growing inside her would have been another casualty.

He bracketed his hands around her face and he held her away. “Don’t, Bryn. Don’t think about it. We’re both here. Safe. Together.”

She bent her head and her soggy locks trailed toward the tiled floor. “I had doubts. I thought that if you lost it would be because my belief in you wasn’t strong enough.”

“I had doubts too. He was stronger than I’d expected. Larger. But the moment I felt you inside me, heard you in my head, hope grew. You gave me strength.”

She glanced up, past his thickened cock to his smoky-dark eyes. “I need you.” It was all she could manage to say. She wanted him, needed that fundamental connection, the locking of their bodies together in a lover’s knot.

Ethan reached down his hands, slipped them under her arms and drew her upward. They stood beneath the water, warm and wet, cleansed of blood and dirt. New.

He cupped her cheeks, stroked a thumb over her bottom lip and then bent and pressed his mouth against hers.

She opened, inviting the slide of his tongue. She coaxed him deeper, sucking on him, grinding her mouth against his. When he pulled away, they were both breathing hard.

He reached for the faucet and gave it a whirl, not tearing his gaze from hers. He slid back the glass door and walked her out, gripping her waist to set her on the counter.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned back on her hands, glancing down to where he was fitting himself against her folds. So thick. So strong. More beast than man there. Perfect.

“Troll,” she whispered.

His gaze darted to her face, his brows pulling together in a questioning frown.

“I love you. All of you.”

His expression darkened. His nostrils flared, pupils enlarging to consume the irises, and then a greenish glow began to pulse. “I love you too, witch,” he growled.

With his strong hands clutching her hips to hold her still, he filled her with a single, thrilling thrust.

Bryn tossed back her hair and squeezed herself around him, daring her green-eyed troll with her eyes to give her everything he had. She could take him. All of him.

Epilogue

Bryn and her sisters were hurrying. They’d promised to provide the food for the celebration of the bridge opening, but wrangling witches was like herding cats—impossible.

Aoife arrived late at Bryn’s. She was having a hard time that morning figuring out which dress made her look less fat, the blue or the green? Then she worried that both matched her eye color too closely. “Will they think I’m vain if I match my dress to my eyes?” she asked, holding up both hangers beside her face. “Maybe I should go back home and get the pink.”

“No!” Bryn said, gripping her waist and turning her toward the bathroom. “Wear the blue. Guys won’t notice the color of your dress—just that your ass looks nice. The blue hugs it.” As the door closed, Bryn closed her eyes. “Did you even remember to bring the deviled eggs?” she shouted through the door.

“They’re on the front seat of my car.”

Bryn went to the parlor door and pushed it open. “Renn!” she shouted.

He came at a lope. “What do you need?”

“Aoife left a tray of deviled eggs on her front seat.”

“Got it.” He loped away.

“I hope like hell they’re still cold.” She turned back to the women still moving franticly around the kitchen that seemed to grow smaller by the minute. “Radha, how’s that chicken?”

Radha set a huge pan topped with foil on the butcher block. “Marinated, ready for the grill.”

“Get it out of here.”

Radha opened the door onto the porch. “I need muscles!”

Khan popped into the opening.

She pointed at the pan. “Make sure this gets to the grill. Don’t let that foil slip. I don’t want flies or dirt in the meat.”

Khan strode to the counter, hefted the pan and paused to bow over it as he locked his gaze with Radha’s. “Your wish, as ever, is my command.”

Radha rolled her eyes even as her cheeks blushed a fiery red. When he was gone, she glanced at Bryn. “I think all that jinn eagerness to fulfill my wishes is getting to me.”

Bryn didn’t have time to spare a laugh. “Ladies, gather the salads. We’re late.”

Darcy stacked three dishes and leaned them against her chest, but the moment she stepped onto the porch, the dishes were lifted away. “Hey,” she called after yet another tall, handsome demon. She glanced back at Bryn, her frown easing as a wicked smile curved her mouth. “It’s a little unnerving how they wait around every corner to lend a hand.”

Miren snorted. “It’s because they want to slip their hands under our clothes.”

“No harm in that,” Darcy said, stepping down the stairs. “So long as there’s no echoing goin’ on.” She waggled her eyebrows and sauntered toward the cars.

Miren glanced at Bryn. “Her dance card is full. A different date every night, and sometimes more than one at a time.” Miren shook her head. “She’s asking for trouble.”

Bryn only smiled. “Well, if it’s trouble she wants, let her enjoy it.”

The barbeque beside the river was a huge success. Children ran across the newly completed bridge. Parents tried to keep them from crawling on the girders, but it was too new, too impressive not to be the focal point of everyone’s attention.

“You did yourself proud,” Bryn said, leaning back against Ethan’s chest.

The bridge was a swing bridge, one that moved to the side to allow tall watercraft to pass, something Miren was very appreciative of. If the bridge had been fixed, some of her trawlers would have had to take a longer route through the canals to reach Barataria Bay. And during storms, when the waters rose, the bridge could be moved out of the way of floating debris, making it less likely to ever be swept away again.

“Not still worried that the outside world might find you?”

“I have you. Why should I be worried?”

He moved his hand down to her belly and flattened his palm against the almost imperceptible bump. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous. Trolls thinking…”

He chuckled. They were both well past taking any affront. Troll and witch were true terms of endearment. “I’ve been thinking, we should marry.”

She angled her head to look up into his face. “We’re already bound. Why do we need a human ceremony?”

“Our child will be going to school with human children here in Bonne Nuit.”

Bryn snorted. “Bonne Nuit doesn’t have a school. It’s not big enough.”

“It will be.” He turned her and looped his arms around the small of her back. “The town’s about to experience a boom.”

“One child is not a boom.”

“Vindlér Construction is moving its headquarters here. That means more houses, more families…”

Her eyes widened. “But you talked about commuting.”

“I don’t like the thought of working so far away. And the rest of the men like it here. We’ve set our sights on a certain plot of land.”

Her eyebrows rose. “The clearing?” The plain was the only place large enough to hold it. “What about our oak?”

“It stays. We won’t encroach too closely. You’ll still be able to dance in the moonlight.”

She smoothed her hands up his chest and around the back of his neck to touch his hair. She dragged her fingertips through it. “You’d do that for us?”

“If you’d like that. If you don’t think we’ll change what this place is to you.”

She lifted on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth. “We’ve talked. All the women were worried about the men drifting away. We didn’t know our isolation was so lonely until you came. I know they’ll be happy. You make us feel safe.”

He held her gaze for a long moment and then nodded. “I’ll make it happen. And you’ll all have a say in how this works. You and your sisters are the center of life here in Bonne Nuit. There’s not a soul, demon or human, who doesn’t know that.” He cleared his throat. “So back to the subject. We should marry.”

Bryn pursed her lips as she considered. “I’ll want Father Guidry to perform the ceremony. He’s a good friend.”

Ethan wrinkled his nose. “A demon marrying in a church?”

Bryn laughed. “It’s too small. But a troll marrying on a bridge—it would be fitting, don’t you think?”

His smile stretched. And as always when she watched him, her heart sped up, happiness and love filling her until she felt a little tearful. Maybe her weepiness was due to the baby. But she’d been truly blessed.

A man in her bed every night to share her troubles and the moonlight. A beast of a lover.

His hand entered her vision with a small velvet box in the center of his palm.

Her heart was so full it nearly burst. “Better not be a diamond,” she muttered. “They’re cold.” She flipped up the lid. A deep, grassy-green emerald set in warm gold winked in the sunlight.

Ethan grinned as she squealed with delight and launched herself at his chest. He lifted her off the ground and twirled with her, laughing. When he set her down, he glanced at Renner, who gave him a thumbs up.

At the sound of Bryn’s joy, the women came running, crowding closely to see the ring. Ethan kept his arm around her, watching over their bent heads, his chest expanding with pride and love. He’d gotten it right. For a troll who’d been born with few opportunities, he’d managed to get a lot right.

He wasn’t fool enough to think that he and his band of outcasts had seen the last of trouble, but for now, they’d keep watch, keep the women safe and continue to build on the promise of the Beaux Rêve coven. A sweet dream indeed.

About the Author

Until recently, award-winning erotica and romance author Delilah Devlin lived in South Texas at the intersection of two dry creeks, surrounded by sexy cowboys in Wranglers. These days, she’s missing the wide-open skies and starry nights but loving her dark forest in Central Arkansas, with its eccentric characters and isolation—the better to feed her hungry muse! For Delilah, the greatest sin is driving between the lines, because it’s comfortable and safe. Her personal journey has taken her through one war and many countries, cultures, jobs and relationships to bring her to the place where she is now—writing sexy adventures that hold more than a kernel of autobiography and often share a common thread of self-discovery and transformation.

To learn more about Delilah Devlin, please visit www.delilahdevlin.com. Send an email to delilah@delilahdevlin.com or join her Yahoo! group to enter in the fun with other readers as well as Delilah: DelilahsDiary@yahoogroups.com.

Content

Once in a Blue Moon
Beaux Reve Coven - 1
Delilah Devlin

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

About the Author