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.

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.