Page 42 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

He squatted and attempted to stroke her face, but she drew back, shunning his touch. With a regretful sigh, he said, “Youarespecial, flitter-mouse. Unique and lovely, like no one else.”

“I’m not. Not enough to make anyone stay.” The single tear from her haunted eyes stung more than her unintentional spell.

“Elara,” he whispered achingly. “The flaw isn’t with you. It’s with others.”

Lifting her head, she locked gazes with him. “You’re not flawed. You’re perfect. So yes, the problem is me.”

“No, I’m far from perfect. You’re in love with this package.” He waved a hand to indicate his body, then tapped his head. “Not what’s in here.”

“I’ve seen your many kindnesses when you think people aren’t looking, Tripp. And you could buy from larger bookstores or online, but you support Flo’s small business with your weekly orders.”

“Those were so I could see you when I came by,” he confessed.

She smiled, and the bittersweet quality killed him. “I always hid.”

“I know, but not before I saw you.”

The understanding that this might be the last time Elara looked upon his stunning visage caused an ache of such magnitude that she was sure her heart was breaking. The boots would need to be returned to Hermes, and she’d need to accept the truth her beloved Hex was no more.

She shuddered as she recalled how the supposed cat hung out on the bed whenever she changed.

“Hermes, if you ever pose as a cat again, I’ll find you and skin you alive,” she warned.

He grinned, unrepentant. “At least I got to see you nude, and our boy Tripp never will.”

The ground rumbled.

“I’m going to kill you, cousin,” Tripp promised. “Mark my words.”

Elara lifted her leg to remove the boot, but the zipper disappeared as she reached for the tab. Whipping her head up, she glared at Hermes.

“What’s your game this time?”

“No game. The boots are charmed, and they don’t feel their mission is completed.”

“How does she get them off?” Tripp lurched to his feet, prepared for battle.

“She doesn’t. Not until the two of you resolve your relationship.”

“We just did,” she said, jumping up and standing beside Tripp in unity.

He swung to stare down at her. “How so?”

She looked between him and Hermes, feeling like she was losing her mind. “I’m getting whiplash from all of this,” she complained. “So okay, let me break it down for you. One: After what happened, we’re on the same page and believe the boots gotta go.”

“True.”

“Two: Hex, aka Hermes, has to go.”

“Agreed.”

“Three: You don’t want me like I do you?—”

“Not true.” Tripp wrapped his hand around her neck, tilting her head back to meet his intense gaze. “So not true, flitter-mouse. I’ve repeatedly told you, but you refuse to listen. Mortals and gods don’t mix.”

“So why not give up your powers?” Hermes suggested.

Tripp dropped his hand so fast Elara stumbled.

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