Page 60 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“It’s not what you’re used to?”

“Yes.” Elara sighed in relief, feeling understood despite the situation’s bizarreness and the inability to communicate properly.

“Not to worry.” With a snap of her fingers, her sister was clothed in a sheer, flowing robe. The peek-a-boo material showed nearly every ounce of her gleaming, dark-brown skin. “Better?”

“Um…”

Deep-throated laughter rang out, and Elara recognized she was being teased.

Another snap and the sheerness of the robe was gone, effectively covering all the exposed bits women normally hid in their modesty.

“Sorry, but your face was too priceless for words.” The woman leaned in and kissed Elara’s hot cheek. “You’re adorable, little sister.”

“And foolish, I suppose?”

“I wouldn’t go that far unless you’ve lost your heart to the gorgeous demigod who left you on my doorstep.”

Her heart sank to the floor of her sister’s watery residence. “Tripp left me?”

The watchful gray eyes narrowed slightly. “I see I’m too late to warn you away. And yes, he handed you over to me. However, it wasn’t by choice, so you can lose the crestfallen look, dear heart.”

“Is he okay?” Pulse-pounding fear for him took root, and Elara jumped to her feet.

“He’s fine. See for yourself.” Her sister waved a hand, and the mirrored wall Elara had failed to notice before transformed from hazy to clear, showing him. Tripp paced the sandy shoreline, careful to avoid the lapping waves, and every so often, he’d look toward the center of the bay. Concern etched his perfect visage, and it warmed Elara.

With a relieved sigh, she murmured, “He didn’t leave me.”

“No. Seven hours he’s waited, and he’d likely wait seven hundred more. It would take an act of Zeus to remove that man from the shoreline, and still, he’d find a way to return to you,” her sister replied in a droll voice. “The fool with him would’ve gone a long time ago, though.”

Elara spotted Hermes napping in the sun a short distance away. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“You know him? In what sense?”

The sharpness of her sister’s tone caught her attention. The two shared history.

“In the Trickster sense,” Elara said. Grimacing, she pointed to her boots. “He’s been trying to make sure I don’t end the world because of his stupid enchantment.”

“Like I said, he’s a fool.” Anger hardened the woman’s face. “He thinks nothing of stirring up trouble, then leaving others to clean up his mess. He’s a special kind of?—”

“Careful, Stormy, my love.” His voice echoed through the chamber, though he hadn’t moved from his spot on the sand.

“Holy shit!” Elara squeaked. “How did he do that?”

“Gods possess the ability to tune into frequency. If he knows who and what he wishes to listen to, he can find them and eavesdrop.” She raised her voice and called out, “Shitbag!”

His affectionate chuckle filled the room.

“Uh, Stormy, is it?”

“Storm, but yes.”

Elara approached the mirror and touched Tripp’s image. “How do I get back to him?”

“You should make him stew a little longer. It’s good for a relationship.”

She laughed, unable not to in the face of her new sister’s pique. But just as quickly, her amusement died, and she gave Storm a sympathetic look. “Hermes must’ve done a number on you.”

“He’s a careless prick, like the rest of the Gods. They think only of their pleasures and of no one else.”

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