Page 4 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“You’re evil,” Bodhan growled. And although there would be no contest in a fight like theirs, the wolf-like sound raised the hair on Tripp’s neck.

“All you had to do was ask,” his friend grumbled.

“Apologies. I was raised to trust no one, and old habits die hard.” Tripp felt like a Grade-A prick for his threat. The other man had given him no reason to believe he’d spread rumors. In fact, Bodhan was as close-mouthed as they came.

Yet Tripp wasn’t lying when he said he was raised to trust no one. Gods were notorious for their games and playing one person against another. If he could settle in a place long enough, perhaps he’d make better connections. Not likely, though, because his time was limited here, just as it was everywhere. But a demigod could dream of putting down roots, right?

CHAPTER TWO

Tripp Nightshade.

Elara had waxed on about him ad nauseam during her appointment, to the point Harrison Cobb dozed off. And what did that say about her obsession? More importantly, what did it say abouther? If she couldn’t keep her therapist engaged, how could she keep someone like Tripp from snoozing?

“My apologies, Elara,” Harrison said, wiping saliva from the side of his mouth and blinking away his embarrassment. “It wasn’t you. I?—”

“No, it’s okay, Dr. Cobb.” She smiled weakly. “I may have gotten carried away.” And why wouldn’t she? Tripp was heavenly. Still, the world didn’t need to know about her pathetic crush. She prayed Harrison wouldn’t retell the story of this appointment to his therapist cronies at their next shrink convention.

“Elara.” His voice was kind and caring, but she imagined he utilized that tone with everyone.

“You don’t have to say it.”

And he didn’t. Her self-doubt routine was old, even to her. What she wouldn’t give for something to make her interesting, though. Something to make her sexy and untamed, perhaps alittle wicked, so she’d be worthy in Tripp’s eyes. Many would tell her a man wasn’t worth it if she had to work so hard to keep his attention, and they were right.

Mostly.

The exception:Tripp.

“I’ll see you next month, Doc.”

Or not.

What did she really have to complain about anyway? Many, many people had it worse in the world. So what if she was suffering unrequited love? So what if her parents were deadbeats who took off without a word, and the only person to care about her was her wild-child sister, who only ever thought of herself? She had a job—granted, one that didn’t pay well—and a roof over her head, right?

Elara sailed out the door before rebooking. The office manager had billed her before the appointment and would no doubt call by next week to book a follow-up. But just maybe, she wouldn’t answer. After her embarrassing moment in the alley, what was the point? She needed to leave Witchmere and start over somewhere no one knew her. Somewhere Tripp Nightshade wasn’t. If she didn’t, she’d continue to make a cake of herself and never find a life partner. How could she when she was consumed by thoughts of a relationship with a man she could never have?

She made it to the main road with relative ease, but the rest of her day went straight to hell. It didn’t pass go or collect two hundred dollars.

Across the street from Dr. Cobb’s office building, Tripp was embracing another woman.

Elara’s stomach bottomed out, and her chest literally ached, feeling uncomfortably like a heart attack. Had someone offered her a million dollars, right then and there, to control her facial expression, she’d be unable to collect. So when Tripp glanced herway, her dismay was on full display. For a fleeting moment, their gazes locked, and he appeared regretful.

Yep. She had to leave this place.Pronto!

Doing what she’d done hundreds of times in hundreds of situations, she smiled tightly and turned away, hurrying down the sidewalk toward her apartment building. Thank goodness Witchmere was a small town, and everything was within walking distance because it only took her three minutes and fifteen seconds to reach her door. By three minutes and seventeen seconds, she had it unlocked, and by three minutes and twenty-five seconds, she was face down on her bed, giving into self-pity.

“Meow.” The sound was a raspy mix of hoarse and harsh, as if her cat struggled to produce it.

“Please, leave me alone, Hex. I don’t want you to see me this way.”

She’d have sworn she heard him harumph right before repeatedly nudging her, thereby forcing her to roll onto her side. He settled against her abdomen in the C her curled-up body made. Giving him a rub behind the ear, as was his due, she sniffed.

“What part of ‘leave me alone’ didn’t you get, you pushy thing?”

If a feline could roll its eyes, Sir Hex-a-lot would’ve. Hell, Elara wasn’t positive he didn’t. The beast butted her hand and twisted to expose his underside.

“I’m not falling for this one. Rubbing your belly will end in me being bitten,” she replied.

He cracked one eyelid and glared with his eery emerald eye, made brighter by the black of his shiny coat.

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