Once in a Blue Moon: Beaux Rêve Coven, Book 1

by Delilah Devlin

  “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.

&nb
sp; 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.