Page 48 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Pervert.” But if she weren’t crazy about Tripp, she’d be all over him like a hobo on a ham sandwich.

Hermes’s grin was too knowing for her peace of mind.

“So, can I throw myself into the volcano to pacify the Gods, or what?” she asked, wiping the amusement from his face.

“Elara.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Please, Hermes. Tell me what I can do to save my friends and family. I’ll do anything.”

“It isn’t as simple as that, love.”

Turning away, she watched the unsuspecting go about their business. “I’ll stay and clean up my mess, but can you implant a suggestion for everyone to leave?”

“It would be a mass exodus, and people might get hurt anyway, considering the scope of the situation.”

“It’s not like they’re going to live anyway, right?” Angry, she stalked inside.

“Elara.” His tone was understanding and irritating.

“Just go away, Hermes. You’re useless.”

“Careful.”

The warning note in his voice sent her into a rage. “Why? What’s the worst you can do? Curse me with magical boots that will kill hundreds of thousands of innocents because Tripp and I can’t figure out what the fuck you want from us?” She charged over and shoved his chest, spiking her fury because he didn’t budge.

“Fuck you, Hermes, and the horse you rode in on! Or is it a Pegasus? I don’t even know your stupid Greek God history.”

The ground rumbled, halting her next rant.

They both froze, eyes wide.

“Did I do that?” she croaked.

“I don’t know.” He recovered faster than her. “But how about you keep your anger to a minimum?”

“Good plan.” With shaking hands, she pushed back her hair. “I can do that.”

“I explained earlier that you and Tripp need to resolve your relationship. It may mean you set aside your doubts and come together in love, or it could mean you find common ground and walk away from each other forever. The answer isn’t cut and dry, Elara. It never is.”

“We have less than two days, and we’ve never had the chance to explore a relationship. It’s not fair to expect it of us, Hermes.”

“You’ve danced around each other for two and a half years, not counting the many lives before this one.”

She threw up her hands. “I don’t remember any of them!”

“No, but Tripp does. He also knows someone who can restore your memories if he cares to ask.”

“Who?”

“My father.”

“Zeus?”she screeched.

“I see youdoknow your Greek God history,” he replied dryly.

“Yeah, well, I learned enough to know asking a god for anything will cost more in the long run.”

“Sometimes, yes.” Hermes strolled over to her bookshelves and nudged the snow globe her father had given her as a child. It inched precariously close to the edge.

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