Delilah Devlin - Once in a Blue Moon

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.