Reaching into her pocket to rub the amethyst, she concentrated on her blessings—on her sisters and this quiet place, on all the bounty they had brought to the community with their works. Her finger warmed the stone, and it began to vibrate, sending warmth up her arm and through her shoulder before spreading down into chest.

Calm again, she squared her shoulders and stared across the water at the ferry bringing the first wave of strangers. Perhaps she’d been too quick to paint their arrival as something black and ominous. She’d wait and see. And tonight, when her small coven drew down the moon, she’d offer a small prayer to the Goddess for a sign.

Ethan Thorne leaned his elbows on the rail as the rickety ferry boat made its way across a canal deep in a sleepy bayou. A place nearly out of time. Unchanged except for the slow drone of the boat’s engine. Trees draped in moss. Murky water. The sounds of insects buzzing and chirping and bird calls were an unending cacophony of sound.

They were headed across the expanse where he would build a bridge to the dock on the far side. A dock that wasn’t a dock. It was simply a road that had sunk into the swamp, the tarmac brittle and broken. The little community on the other side was in sore need of a bridge, so why had they protested for so long?

As the boat drew nearer, he noted a couple dozen people gathered on the sunken road. Most were dark-haired with dark complexions and appeared to be related by the similarities of their features. However, one group of five women standing in a half-circle to the side seemed out of place.

For one thing, their features weren’t large-nosed and their skin was pale. And each of the women was stunningly beautiful. How had a small backwoods place like Bonne Nuit produced so many delicately boned, beautiful women? Two were brunette, one was blonde and one red-haired. The one that drew his eye had hair the color of midnight with a slight bluish sheen.

And they dressed differently from the rest. Not a one wore a tee or tank or well-worn jeans and boots. These women wore long skirts, sandals or bare feet, rows and rows of stones around their wrists and long necklaces with pendants resting between their breasts.

At second glance, their skin wasn’t merely pale, it was luminous.

Realization of what they were hit him with the impact of a blow to his solar plexus. Witches. His gaze scanned the far bank. Where were their guardians?

He straightened and purposely dragged his gaze from them. He didn’t need to incite a war with whatever group of demons lurked out of sight.

“You see them?” Renner murmured, coming up beside him and smiling, his expression at odds with the intensity of his unearthly sea-blue gaze. In direct sunlight, his irises reflected the light, glinting like sunlight on a calm blue pond.

“I count five,” Ethan said. “And no sign of Others.”

“Perhaps they haven’t been claimed.”

“How is that even possible?”

“The isolation? The fact they’re banded together?” Renner raised a brow. “How interesting.” He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on. “No need to announce our presence just yet.”

It being daylight, Ethan had no worries his eyes would give him away. “Guess that means I’m staying in the town.”

“Until we find out what’s happening here, yes. Brother, we may have struck the mother lode.” He flashed a grin and turned toward the bank.

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, instinctively barring his heart to suppress the urge to pounce the moment the ramp dropped to the tarmac. Witches explained a lot. The string of bad luck that had plagued the company the moment the contract for the construction project had been awarded, although seized engines and workers’ accidents were behind them now. Witches also explained how this project had been placed so far down the list that the state’s budget had nearly excluded this last bridge.

Which might confirm his suspicion these witches were truly alone. If they’d been mated, there’d be no need to continue their isolation. Bound, they were protected. For a troll, a lesser demon on anyone’s hierarchy, the thought of five witches, the most exalted feminine prizes in the demon kingdom, the opportunity was too ripe with possibility to ignore.

He’d worked hard to gain respect, suppressing his true nature to ascend. Now, he ran his own crew and owned a piece of Vindlér Construction. The irony that he built bridges rather than lived beneath one wasn’t lost on him, and when Others made snide remarks, he let their jibes go rather than pound them with his stony fists. He’d learned self-control. Had educated himself. And now, the last mountain he had to climb might be within his reach—a witch of his own to increase his power and his influence. Although the stunner with the black hair appealed most, he didn’t really care which he ensnared. Any one of them would suit his ambitions.

“They won’t fuck like sirens,” Renner said softly.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought of bedding another siren whore. “Sirens squeal.”

Renner laughed. “Maybe for you. They sing like angels for me.”

Ethan grunted. Once the ramp was secured, the ferryboat captain gave them a wave. He and Renner strode to the pickup and climbed in. He drove off the ramp and through the small throng, like the parting of the Red Sea. But he wasn’t going far. They had to wait for the men who’d be staying in Bonne Nuit to make their way across. He parked on a small makeshift gravel lot, likely where cars waited for the ferry, and switched off the engine.

“Maybe you should leave the talking to me,” Renner said with one brow raised.

“All I’m looking for is a place for my crew to stay.” Not a hookup. Not yet. No finesse required.

He climbed down and approached the nearest local, a young man with a scruffy almost-beard. “Does anyone rent out rooms? I need beds for a dozen men.”

The young man’s gaze darted to the women.

Ethan’s followed. The black-haired witch gave a slow nod to the young man.

“You’ll have to ask, Bryn,” he said, scratching his beard. “She runs the Beaux Rêve Inn. Though I don’t think she has that many rooms to rent. Might also try ole Winnie,” he said, pointing to a large gray-haired woman. “She keeps a passel of grandkids in the summer. But she’s got rooms now. For a price.”

Renner stepped out in the direction of the witches, but Ethan elbowed his side. “Go make arrangements with Winnie for the crew.”

Renner flashed a smile. “Make sure your witch has a bed for me.”

“Thought you weren’t staying. You have a jobsite in Thibodaux to visit.”

“Thibodaux’s just over an hour away.”

Ethan narrowed his gaze. “As the crow flies.”

“I’ll commute. Get me a room.”

As his friend walked away, Ethan drew a deep breath to steady his heart. His sudden surliness toward Renner was generated by the intensity of his reaction toward the witches. There were five. He could share. He drew another calming breath. Didn’t help his hands were beginning to sweat. He wiped them on the sides of his pants. Then, catching the dark-haired witch’s eye, he strode straight for her, holding out a hand. “I’m Ethan Thorne, ma’am.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ethan.”

Her voice was deeper was than he’d expected, with a slightly hoarse inflection. Sexy as hell. Also, her hand was warm; heat pressed his palm and traveled up his arm. His gaze locked with the woman’s. Her eyes were a dark gray-blue and fringed by thick, curling black lashes. She wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup, not even lipstick, but her skin was like porcelain, her lips a deep cherry red. Since he’d spotted her, he’d experienced his first doubts. She was too delicate for someone like him. Too refined.

Heat swept through him again, and he couldn’t believe it. She thought he was human and was luring him in with her witch’s heat. An invitation he wasn’t about to refuse.