Page 51 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

Her smile flashed, quickly replaced by compressed lips and a narrow-eyed look. “Take a deep look at your feelings, and soon,” she urged. Wiggling her fingers at Elara as if encouraging a child to take her hand, Brelenia said, “Come, my dear. We have things to discuss.”

Ever dutiful, Elara took her proffered hand, leaving him standing, frustrated and all alone.

“Story of my life,” he muttered.

The mountain rumbled in response.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tripp Nightshade.

Seeing him spearhead the discussion to save Witchmere was eye-opening for Elara. Previously, she’d viewed him as something of a player, but if she’d bothered to consider anything other than those glorious shoulders, she’d be forced to admit there was much to admire about him. His many kindnesses to the townspeople of Witchmere were primary. Tripp never failed to wish someone a good morning or flash a genuine smile at the elderly residents as they passed. He held open doors and carried packages, too. Never once had he failed to resolve conflict if he stumbled across one.

Tripp Nightshade was a born peacemaker and leader.

“And he’d make a helluva lot better mayor than that cow, Mary-Alice Cobb,” Elara muttered.

“What was that, dear?” Brelenia asked, leaning forward. “Did you say something about a cow?”

Casting a panicked glance at the Mayor, Elara shook her head. “I’m sure you misheard, ma’am.”

“Hmm. Possible, but doubtful,” she said.

They’d been formally introduced thirty minutes ago, and Elara couldn’t help but like the woman. Although Tripp’s motherwas a goddess, she was down to earth and kind, like him. Granted, the salty feelings hadn’t disappeared, and Elara didn’t love another person determining her fate. Yet a fifteen-minute explanation from Brelenia told her all she needed to know. Beside her was a caring mother, regardless of the fact she was a deity, and she only wanted the best for her son. Indeed,allher children.

How could Elara fault her for interfering? Especially now, the Goddess was involving herself in rectifying the situation and mitigating the damage caused by the boots.

But would their efforts be in vain?

She glanced at Hermes, surprised to find him watching her. The standard mischievous gleam in his eyes was missing, and there was a disturbing seriousness in its place.

“What?” she mouthed.

Humor caused the outer corners of his eyes to crinkle and his mouth to twitch as he fought a smile.

“Do you two have something to share with the rest of the class?” Payton asked with an arched brow.

Elara elbowed her into silence and sent an apologetic grimace Tripp’s way when he paused.

His wink allowed her to relax.

Never had she feared him in the past, but he was a demigod, and the Gods were fickle creatures. Sitting straighter, she realized she’d just put her finger on why she found it difficult to commit—and possibly why it was impossible for him to. She didn’t trust him to treasure her heart for the long run. But were his reasons reversed? Did he fear outliving her and suffering a broken heart due to his immortality? How awful to live longer than everyone else and continuously suffer loss.

Tingling started in her toes, spreading along the soles of her feet and sending warmth up her legs. Her breathing ratcheted up, becoming erratic as the heat within turned unbearable.

“Elara!”

Tripp practically demolished the coffeehouse’s private room as he shoved tables and chairs out of his way to get to her. Anyone with an ounce of self-preservation jumped up and cleared the path. The room turned into a kaleidoscope of color and sound, with all the shapes spinning out of control and conversations running together.

“I don’t feel well,” she confessed as he reached her. Raising a shaky hand to her forehead, she gasped when she touched her scalding skin. “Tripp?”

“Stay calm, flitter-mouse,” he urged, but the panicked look he sent his mother was at direct odds with his calm tone.

“Tell her, Florence,” Brelenia said. “Your granddaughters need to understand who and what they are.”

“What are we?” Elara gasped, not truly caring, as she searched for a water pitcher or anything cold to cool her burning body. Light flared inside an empty glass, and within the blink of an eye, the vessel was filled to the brim with ice water.

“Did I do that?” she croaked.

---