Page 40 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

Her expression morphed into the carefully controlled one she presented to the world. The smile she offered was small and tight. Dismissive.

“Don’t!” he barked, causing her to jump. Moderating his tone, he said, “Don’t give me that look. Please. I hate it.”

“What look?”

“The one that hides your true feelings. The one that says you don’t need anyone because you’re prepared to tough it out alone.”

Surprise sent her jaw plunging, and Tripp couldn’t ignore her siren’s call another second longer.

“I’m going to kiss you, Elara Elizabeth Hawthorne, and if it’s not what you want, say it now.”

Heartbeats passed.

Finally, in answer, she dragged his head down and offered her mouth to him.

The moment their lips met, the world seemed to hold its breath, and then—like a dam breaking—raw, uncontainable energy surged between them. Elara clung to Tripp as the ground beneath their feet rumbled. Floor-tile cracks radiated outward like the earth was reacting to their union. In the distance, Rainier’s snow-capped peak shivered. Its icy crown liquefied under the sheer heat of their connection, sending rivers of water cascading down its slopes. The kiss deepened into a storm of need and promise, and their power entwined until it was impossible to tell where his magic ended and hers began.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, the air was thick with steam and power, the landscape forever marked by the fire they had unleashed.

A shadow blocked the morning’s rays, and Tripp glanced up to find Hermes, naked-assed, staring out the patio doors toward the mountain.

“Fuck all, Tripp!” he snapped. “The villagers are going to want your head on a pike.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Elara’s eyes flared wide, and she attempted to turn her head, but Tripp was faster and blocked her from viewing Hermes’s perfect ass. He’d never had anyone compare his sculpted backside to his cousin’s, but he wasn’t taking any chances she might become enthralled by the sight.

“Is that Hermes?” she asked in a hushed voice. Her apartment wasn’t exactly the size of the Taj Mahal, and the sound carried.

Hermes turned, giving them a full frontal, not in the least concerned about his nudity.

“Put that thing away, or it won’t be the head above your shoulders on a pike,” Tripp growled, continuing to block Elara’s curious gaze.

With a gasp rivaling an outraged maiden, Hermes cupped himself. “What have I ever done toyou?”

“Those fucking boots!”

“Yeah, well, those were originally intended for your mother and your deadbeat dad,” he said with a dismissive shrug and snap of his fingers. Clothed in an outfit similar to the one he wore last night, he grinned. “You can release your woman. I’ve removed all temptation.”

“Dick,” Tripp retorted.

Hermes glanced down as if to check. “No. I’ve covered it.”

Elara laughed, and Tripp was startled by the beautiful sound. Hermes, too. His attention locked on her like a wolf does its prey.

“Don’t even think about it,” Tripp warned with a growl. “She’s mine.”

Satisfaction curled his cousin’s lips, and color burst from the purple jewels on Elara’s boots. She gasped and scrambled to her feet.

“Slow your roll, dude!” Her balled hands met her hips.

“What’s the problem, flitter-mouse? You’ve wanted me since I arrived in this piddly little town.”

Her dark scowl was worrisome. “Wait. You think you can come in here, demand I do what you want by giving up my cat and boots, kiss me so thoroughly it shakes the earth”—she pointed downward—“and cracks my tile,thenhave the nerve toclaimme? Like I’m a fucking trophy you won as spoils of war? You also insulted my town. Are you cracked in the head?”

“Her tongue is sharp enough to castrate a man, isn’t it?” Hermes crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, settling in for the entertainment. “I like this one, cousin.”

“Fuck off already!” Tripp waved a hand and sent Hermes to the same lake Elara dumped him after she received the boots. “Elara, flitter-mouse, listen?—”

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