Page 38 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

Last night, she’d gotten through the rest of her shift on autopilot. Granted, it was shortened considerably when Flo told everyone to “get the hell out” and locked the doors behind them. Payton bolted immediately.

“I’m not waiting around to hear a pack of lies and excuses,” she’d said as she grabbed her purse and stalked out the alley door.

Florence had appeared crushed but rallied in an instant. Chin in the air, she’d given Elara a do-your-worst look. But all the fight had left her, and the only thing she’d wanted at that moment was to leave Tripp, Flo, and Witchmere far, far behind. Her parents’ nomad lifestyle was looking better and better.

When Elara arrived home, she discovered Hex missing and spent the remainder of the night looking for him. Exhausted, depressed, and fearing the worst for her precious cat, she trudged back to her apartment and slept on the couch, jerking awake at every slight sound.

Snow fell outside the patio doors, and her worry for him doubled. Her pampered boy was never gone longer than a few hours, and he might not fare well in the harsh winter elements. Should she appeal to Tripp’s better nature and ask him to alter the weather if he could?

Dismissing the idea, she considered others.

The Sandersons were wolf shifters. Their sense of smell should be more powerful than an average dog’s, right? A quick internet search confirmed her guess. But which one did she approach? Katie? Bohdan? Certainly not Rowen. The brain-searing image of her hugging Tripp still rankled.

“Oh, Hex. Please come back to me,” Elara said aloud, wishing with all her might that he was okay.

Less than two minutes later, a scratch at the glass doors caught her attention. With a cry of joy, she rushed to let Sir Hex-a-lot in. Sweeping him into her arms, she knelt on the floor and sobbed all over his snow-dampened fur.

“Where have you been?” she scolded between gasping breaths. “I thought… thought I’d l-lost you, Hex. You were… gone so l-long, and… and…” The stress of his disappearance,added to all she’d discovered the previous night, was too much, and her shuddering sobs wouldn’t stop. Although Hex didn’t struggle to get away, he didn’t appear to love the torrential tearfest. “I l-love you… you stupid c-cat.”

The expression on his face altered, and his emerald eyes grew softer as he stared at her.

“Meow.” Hex’s purr was deafening as he butted his head against her chin and rubbed his face along her jaw.

And then Tripp was there, shooing Hex from her arms and cradling her within his embrace. “Don’t cry, flitter-mouse,” he said in a low, aching voice as if her tears physically hurt him. “Please, don’t cry.”

Not questioning how he knew she needed comfort or why she accepted it when she wasn’t happy with him, Elara climbed onto his lap, draped her arms around his shoulders, and buried her face against the strong column of his throat. The scent of his freshly showered skin was heavenly, and she sighed, feeling a strange contentment in being held.

Large, comforting hands rubbed circles on her back, and her eyes drifted shut as exhaustion washed over her. Remaining upset while secure in the arms of the man you adored was difficult, and her tears dried up.

“Why are you here?” she asked, pulling back to look at him.

“I was atWily Witches,but you weren’t. I also felt your angst, so I knew something was wrong.” Tripp smoothed her hair, and his worried gaze traveled over her face. What he searched for, she couldn’t say, but she assumed he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t break down again before he released her.

His comment registered, and her jaw dropped.

“Youfeltmy angst? Like literally felt it as a physical thing?”

He nodded and touched his chest. “Here. It’s an ache.”

Elara’s gaze locked on the hand pressed to his heart, and hers melted along with her anger toward him. “How is it that you feel connected to me?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “It’s been this way since I arrived in Witchmere and saw you.”

She frowned, considering all the times she’d made an absolute fool of herself. Did he feel her discomfort or just her pain?

“When I… um, when I… was dodging you… I…” She swallowed, preparing to try again.

“Some,” he said, taking pity on her. “Not as strong as the sensation has been since our first kiss.”

What must it be like to have powers like his?

“Did you feel your other, uh, lovers’ emotions?” She mentally kicked herself for asking when hesitancy crossed his face. “Never mind. It’s okay.”

“I don’t have a problem answering, but I don’t want to upset you further.”

“Why would it upset me?”

“Because you don’t believe my story about the boots, Elaina, and Élise.”

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