Page 43 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“It’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make for any woman,” he ground out. “But she answered the objections you and your fucking boots might have, so remove them, Hermes.”

“No can do, cousin!” He plopped down on the sofa and spread his arms wide along the top, grinning. “You have to resolve the love between you to the spell’s satisfaction. You haven’t.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Elara told him.

Squinting one eye, Hermes crinkled his nose. “Doesn’t he, though?”

“I’m never getting these damned things off,” she cried in despair.

“Spill it, Hermes,” Tripp ground out. “Now, before I tie your limbs like a fucking pretzel.”

Weighing the threat, Hermes glanced between them. “I’ll tell you, but only because I like Elara, and she has a rocking body I want to cuddle up with again.”

Tripp lunged, diving into an empty couch.

From across the room, Hermes laughed. “You’re so predictable.”

Elara rose and pressed a hand to Tripp’s chest, hoping to stop another charge.

What would a Trickster do in this situation if they wanted an answer? A wicked smile curled her mouth, and Hermes sobered.

“You’ll tell us what you know, Divine Trickster, or I’ll compel you to walk naked through Witchmere, clucking like a chicken.”

“Sonofa—fine!” he snapped.

Tripp wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “Nicely done, flitter-mouse.”

Hermes resumed his place on the sofa, gesturing them to sit while he retold the tale.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tripp was tangled up in knots after Hermes imparted his knowledge and left. “Fucking Hermes. And fucking Trickster bullshit.”

“It’s a lot to process,” Elara replied.

“Your reincarnation and my idiocy?” Tripp rested his head against the back of the sofa as he stared morosely at the ceiling. How the hell had it come to this?

“Hermes said we must get it right because it’s our last of seven chances. But what is consideredit? Our relationship? We don’t have one.”

The ground rumbled, and Tripp recognized it as a reaction to his building irritation. Yet if he were honest with himself, he couldn’t say she was wrong. They’d never taken the time to form anything resembling a connection. “We’ve had them in the past and seem to be dancing around one in the present. I think that counts.”

“It’s not like any I’ve experienced,” she muttered, causing his annoyance to flare again.

“Now’s not the time to bring in your past losers,” he said, barely keeping his ire in check.

“Lovers.”

“Whatever.”

“Forget all that. What if we fuck it up?”

He snorted a laugh. Rarely did she swear, but her usage of the word “fuck” amused him.

“I don’t think the problem is you, Elara.”

“No, it’sus. Together,” she said. “And these stupid boots.”

“I did try to warn you,” he replied dryly.

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