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.