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.

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.