Page 41 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“No. I’m no pushover, Tripp Nightshade, so get that idea right out of your thick skull.”

“I never said you were.” He surged to his feet. “Hermes makes me and everyone else within a hundred-mile radius of him mad as a hatter. He delights in chaos, as I’ve warned you before. As a tool for his special brand of fuckery, those boots heighten your emotions. Which is precisely why I’ve been attempting to get them off you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tell the truth. Was your intent to seduce me to give them up?”

The compulsion to tell the truth was too strong to resist. “Yes.”

She paled. “You never wanted me before I put them on, did you?”

“I did want you, but I was never going to act on it.”

A rush of blood flooded her face, turning her skin a fevered pink.

“The only reason you’re doing it now is the boots, yes?”

“Yes.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away and lifted her chin.

“And Hex? Who is he really?”

“Hermes.”

The shock made her face slack, but crushing pain followed, contorting her features.

“Stay away from me, Tripp Nightshade. For now, forever.”

The pull of an escape was strong. Despite the feeling of acid burning his skin, he fought the enchantment.

“Elara, listen to me,” he demanded through gritted teeth. “Please, reverse your spell.”

“There’s no spell! It’s a simple statement, and I don’t ever want to se?—”

Hermes clapped a dripping hand over her mouth. “Careful, love. As much as I hate to admit it, Tripp is correct. The boots amplify your emotions and use your natural abilities to create havoc.”

She tugged his wrist until he released her. “Bullshit! I don’t have that kind of magic.”

“Look at his skin, Elara,” he urged in a gentle tone one uses for wild animals. “Go on. He is physically hurting.”

Her head whipped around just as Tripp held up his exposed forearms. Blisters were bubbling up and bursting, causing untold agony—all because he continued to fight her directive to leave.

“Tripp?” Her horror could bring tears to an onlooker’s eyes. “How do I reverse it, Hermes? Tell me, please.”

“Speak the words from your heart. The emotion youtrulyfeel for him and not those caused by anger.”

She rushed to Tripp, prepared to cup his face, but withdrew and clasped her hands over her heart. “I’m sorry. Your truth was hard to hear. In my rage, I wanted to send you away.” Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. “Stay or go, Tripp. The decision is yours.”

The heaviness in the air dissipated, and his wounds healed, leaving raw, angry marks in their place. It took longer for his face to stop burning. He expelled a relieved breath as the pain eased.

“I won’t order you to go, but I will ask that you both leave me alone. Please,” she said in a quiet voice. Her eyes were so large and tragic that it was impossible to refuse. Yet Tripp didn’t want to abandon her in such a state.

“Elara—”

“Please, Tripp,” she begged. “I need to be by myself for a while.”

He met Hermes worried gaze over her head. When his cousin nodded, so did he. “All right. But will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“What’s the point?” she asked tiredly as she sat down. With light fingers, she traced the jeweled pattern on the leather. “They are so beautiful and made me feel special.”

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