Page 6 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

Her skin flushed the shade of a turnip, and she presented her back, giving a little shrug in the process. “Why should I care?”

Why, indeed? But she did, and oddly, he did, too.

“You shouldn’t,” he told her, and it was the absolute truth. She would only get her heart broken when he left. And hewouldleave. He’d be forced to when his mother eventually discovered his location. Demigods could keep a low profile if they kept their abilities under wraps, but they still produced a magical signature, and a skilled tracker could—and would—find him.

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped, whirling to face him. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave. I have things to do.”

The devil on his shoulder held more influence than any angel could, and Tripp couldn’t let her comment go unchallenged. He stepped toward her. “Such as?”

Like a goldfish trapped in a bowl, her mouth opened and closed rhythmically.

“Well?” he taunted softly when there were less than three inches between them.

He could smell the peppermint on her huffing breath, and for the first time in his life, he decided he didn’t hate the cooling scent. His desire to taste it, to tasteher, was driving him to behave recklessly. If he kissed her, things would never be the same for either of them.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he heard his devil whisper into the shell of her ear.

The shock of her fingers weaving through his hair was like a live wire through his system, and his body woke from its semi-slumbering state. Magic crackled around them as she tugged his head back and stared into his eyes.

Hers were large and wary, like a doe encountering a wolf. But deep in their recesses, he saw the answering spark of the inferno she had just ignited. Naturally red, plump lips parted, beckoning and urging him to throw caution to the winds. And when the tip of her pink tongue swept the opening, adding the sheerest hint of glistening moisture, he groaned.

Their bodies, needing no instruction, gravitated together, and the feel of her firm breasts pressed to his chest sent blood shooting to his dick. Tripp hadn’t had an instantaneous reaction like this in decades, and the building hard-on pressing against the wall of her soft belly was about to get him into serious trouble.

Her focus dropped to his mouth, and she released a kitten-like mewl.

He was lost.

With nothing left but the consuming need to touch, to kiss, to savor her peppermint flavor, he did.

The instant his tongue met hers, the room darkened. Beyond the window, a flickering lightning flash was followed by a resounding thunderous boom. It shook the building before the skies opened, and a sideways sweeping downpour began.

Still, their kiss continued. Her hands burrowed under his cashmere sweater, and her fingertips dug into his lat muscles as if she held on for dear life. He, in turn, cradled her face between his large palms. The feel of her silky skin was everything he’d imagined on those nights when he gave himself leave to fantasize about touching her.

With his senses thoroughly flooded by the raging elements and Elara’s unexpected passion, Tripp jerked backward,breathing hard. With her sparkling eyes, cheeks flushed a becoming shade of rose, and kiss-swollen lips a deep crimson, she looked like a goddess come to life. The thudding of his pulse nearly drowned out the pounding rain.

“Who the hell knew you could kiss like that?” He didn’t recognize the hoarse voice as his own.

Eyes as wide as saucers, she used her fingertips to caress her mouth. That light, teasing touch almost did him in. Either he needed to escape to regroup or sweep her into bed and never leave it again.

“I gotta go,” he muttered. But he was reluctant to teleport away, especially when disappointment shone in her expressive peepers.

“I have to,” he insisted.

Because if he didn’t, the storm they’d inadvertently caused might become a typhoon of epic proportions and wipe Witchmere off the map. But he didn’t dare tell her that. It would never do to let another know the power they could evoke in him.

CHAPTER THREE

Tripp Nightshade.

Such a ridiculous name!

Brelenia sighed her irritation.

“We’ve found him, my queen.”

“Excellent. Where?” She held back her smile of satisfaction.

“A small town in the Pacific Northwest.”

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