Page 85 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Idid that?”

The shock in her voice was priceless, and Tripp wondered, not for the first time, what it must be like to experience the wonders of burgeoning magic. He’d been born with his and had fine-tuned it throughout life. Hell, he was still learning new tricks, thanks to Hermes. But going from the bare minimum to being the most formidable person in town had to be bizarre.

“Not to sound condescending, but I’m proud of you.” He tugged a lock of her hair and conjured a beanie to cover her exposed ears. “You’re mastering magic faster than anyone I’ve ever known and doing it in a way that doesn’t create chaos for others.”

“Minus the active volcano,” she said dryly.

“Not your fault. That one’s on my mother and Hermes.”

“Agreed. But would we have realized we loved each other without this situation?”

“Yes.” He led her to a bench, dusted it off, and drew her beside him. Twisting to face her, he toyed with her fingers and noted the size for when he proposed. “If you recall, I’d followed you home from Harrison’s office.”

“Because you thought I was upset by seeing you and Rowan.”

He grinned. “You were.”

“Meh.” But she grinned back at him.

“Seeing the raw hurt in your eyes nearly destroyed me.”

Elara frowned. “I thought I did a good job hiding what I felt.”

“You do a great job of it for anyone who doesn’t know you,” he lied. “But I’ve made a job of studying you over the last two and a half years. I know your every expression.”

“Creepy,” she teased.

“No creepier than you ogling my shoulders,” he retorted with a laugh.

“Busted. In fairness to me, they’re splendid.” She sighed wistfully as if imagining them naked.

His body reacted immediately, but he didn’t act on it. This intimate moment was too precious to destroy with sex.

“It’s the water nymph in you,” Tripp said. “You’re attracted to strong swimmers.”

Her skin was the color of a ripe strawberry as she giggled.

“What did I say?” he asked, smiling and appreciating her charming amusement.

“Strong swimmers. That’s a term for sperm.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “I have those, too, but we’ll find a way to corral them so you don’t wind up pregnant.”

“You really wouldn’t mind not having children? It seemed to be a deal breaker for your mom.”

He mulled it over, trying to determine whether he wanted to carry on the Nightshade line. Elara’s uncertainty was bothersome. “Your worth is more than a vessel for children, flitter-mouse.” Tripp touched the area above her heart. “Your heart is your true worth. It’s open and generous.”

“Not like yours.”

“Much more than mine.” He caressed the chilled skin of her neck and gave her a boost of warmth. “Even now, you’re worried about my feelings or my mother’s.”

“But I don’t want to tie you down only to have you resent me later.”

“If we make it through the Trickster’s test, we have centuries of love ahead of us.” Leaning in, he planted a tender kiss on her tempting lips. “I love you, Elara. You. The soul that reincarnates, calling to me every lifetime, and is my perfect mate. I care not about the trappings of man or the need to procreate.” He kissedher again. “I only want you beside me every day. The first face I see when I wake, and the last I see when I close my eyes.”

“And I want you.”

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he said, meaning every word.

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