Page 13 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

His hiding spot was blown, and it meant disappearing.

Pronto.

But he couldn’t leave this mess at Elara’s door. Mother had not only foundhim, she found the one woman who would destroy an entire town if he left her with the fatal footwear. It wasn’t the first time Brelenia of Messia had sent them to a female she believed Tripp was interested in, but this time, he intended to see they were weighted in cement and deposited at the bottom of the ocean. Elara wasn’t equipped to deal with the fallout if he didn’t.

He was gearing up to attempt another snatch and run when the bloody package vanished with a poof of smoke. The sinking in quicksand sensation he experienced stole his breath, and he feared hyperventilation.

“What was in that box?” Payton had enough presence of mind to be wary of him and the item he’d fixated on.

“Something that I should’ve destroyed a long time ago.”

“Why was it addressed to my sister?”

He met her worried gaze. Payton was right to be fearful, and he appreciated the hell out of her instincts. “We need to get to your sister before she opens it. Come on!”

CHAPTER FIVE

Tripp Nightshade.

He’d kissed her again!

Then, Elara had the nerve to call him a liar. Where her gumption came from was anyone’s guess, but she was proud of herself.

“You should’ve seen me, Hex,” she told her cat as she gathered her mail. “I was a badass!”

As they traversed the hallway to her apartment, she explained how she’d given Tripp what-for. Once they were safely ensconced in the living room, Hex hiked a leg and did what he always did when Tripp’s name was mentioned—he licked his balls.

“Rude,” she muttered. “One day, I’m going to remember to get a spray bottle to cure you of that bad habit.”

Hex paused to give his best I-will-fuck-you-up-and-shit-on-everything-you-own look.

“Oh, pearlescent pixy stix, Hex. You know I’ll never spray you with water. I’d be taking my life into my hands.”

Satisfied she’d been duly warned, he returned to his business, and Elara would swear he was more aggressive in his actions.

Ignoring him, she untied the hemp twine securing the package. No return address or other identifying marks indicated where it had originated. This close to Christmas, anyone could expect to receive a gift or two, but Payton was the only one Elara was close to, and it was doubtful she stopped to consider anyone else long enough to send a present. Many years ago, Elara realized that the only person who would treat her to anything was herself.

The surprise came when she lifted the lid.

Her gasp caused Hex to pause his ministrations and shift for a better view.

“Meow?” There was a definite question in the sound.

“I don’t know who sent them. But these boots are gorgeous!”

And they were.

Made of a deep-amethyst dyed leather, they were ankle high and possessed a three-inch heel. What appeared to be genuine quartz was cut to display the gemstone to advantage, and decorated the vamp. Smaller rhinestones, as shiny and clear as any diamonds she’d seen, were arranged in an intricate pattern around the amethyst jewels. Of varying sizes, they wound over the arch and up along the quarter next to a row of eyelets. The laces were made of chenille, and dangling from the ends were more gemstones of varying shapes and sizes.

And they were perfect!

If Elara were a shoe designer, these bad boys would put her on the map to fame and fortune. Only the rich and famous could afford them, for damned sure. But who had sent them to her? Certainly not Tripp. How would he know she was a size six and a half?

When she picked one up, she felt a zing. If asked, she couldn’t say if that was because of the joyful feeling they gave her or the sheer beauty of the boot. Walking to her window, she held itup and marveled at how the sun’s rays caught the facets of the stones, creating a light show inside the room.

“I love them,” she whispered.

The feeling of being watched washed over her, and she glanced downward at the street.

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