Page 73 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“He’s coming round,” his mother said. “All will be well as soon as he wakes.”

“How do you?—”

He groaned and arched his back, connecting with someone’s hand. A deluge of water soaked him and the mattress beneath him.

“Oh!” Elara flushed. “Damn it! I was doing so well.”

“You did an excellent job, my dear. The skin has healed, and the rest is up to him,” Brelenia assured her. “He’s able to manage any residual pain.”

The rustle of movement woke him fully, and Tripp shoved back the curtain of hair obstructing his view in time to witness his mother hug Elara. Their affection was visible in the yellow cloud of their merging magic.

While he slept, the two had bonded as friends.

It didn’t bode well for him.

Elara placed a palm on his forehead, pronouncing him cooler.

“What happened?” He rolled to a sitting position and rested his hands on her hips to keep her from running away.

“Please stay, flitter-mouse,” he urged in a low voice, sensing her intent to bolt.

“A beast, posing as Archer Roche, scratched you,” his mother stated.

“Posing as… It wasn’t Archer? Are you positive?” The gargoyle had been identical to him, except for the rage-filled energy. Roche wasn’t prone to get overly excited. Neither was Bohdan, for that matter.

Large booted feet entered his periphery, and Archer answered for himself. “A rogue gargoyle, glamoured to look like me, and another to impersonate Bohdan.” He held up the severed heads, missing half their faces. Luckily, there was no blood or brains to leak out.

Elara leaned in and whispered, “Isn’t it weird the insides are solidified, too?”

Although not quite rock-like, what should’ve been liquid or jellied was solidified. “Yes.”

“It opens the door tosomany questions,” she said with a glance at Archer’s crotch.

Fighting the urge to laugh, Tripp buried his face against her abdomen to hide his amusement. When Elara meeped her surprise, he chuckled. Her hands, gripping his head, tightened, but then she recalled others were present. Ever proper, she tugged his hair until they separated.

“Spoilsport,” he murmured.

“Behave, Enguerrand. Not all women wish to be mauled in the presence of others.” Brelenia sighed as if his bad behavior was the bane of her existence.

Elara’s fingers dug into his scalp, and he felt her urge to pull him close. “Oh! No! I don’t mind.”

The chorus of laughter caused her cheeks to flush in that adorable fashion, making him want to sweep her up and steal her away for eternity.

“Oh!” she chirped her distress.

Tripp gave her hips a light squeeze to gain her attention. “Ignore them, flitter-mouse. Concentrate on me.”

Her blush deepened, and through their physical touch, the images in her mind were transferred to his.

It was highly inappropriate considering the company of others, as was his sudden arousal.

“Everybody out!” he ordered, pulling her onto his lap to hide the evidence of his desire. “We’ll meet you in two hours atWily Witches.”

Elara hissed his name. “They’re going to think we’re?—”

“Doing what I’ve wanted to do since I first laid eyes on you?”

He kissed away her objections. The action was like nothing they’d ever shared, and he was immediately lost in the pleasure.

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