Page 83 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Count on it. I’ll take pleasure in his pain.”

“This is why I adore you, Tripp Nightshade,” she said, stroking her fingers along his jaw. “Thank you for being my staunch supporter.”

“Always, flitter-mouse.”

“Tripp Nightshade?” Her father’s expression became wary. “As in Enguerrand Nightshade and Brelenia of Messia’s son?”

Elara snorted and addressed Tripp, “I think we gave them a reason to bolt again, don’t you?”

“Give them a chance,” he urged. To her parents, he said, “We’ll be back shortly. Elara needs to replenish her water supply.”

“You make me sound like a fish tank,” she complained as they trudged to the water’s edge.

“If the artificial coral fan fits…”

“I take it all back.” She smacked his arm. “Hermes is the hotter one.”

Tripp laughed, grabbed her by the waist, and ran with her into the crashing waves.

Twenty minutes later, they were dried off and sipping tea on her parent’s balcony overlooking the Pacific. Tripp admired the view. Oddly, it reminded him of Messia, though the climate was vastly different.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Hawthorne,” he said politely.

“Thank you.” Mae was equally polite, but her smile bordered on dismissive.

“You look well, Elara,” she said. She shot a curious glance at him. “I’m surprised to see you two together, though.”

“Why? I’m not loveable enough? Not attractive enough for a demigod?” Elara asked.

Yes, she was chockful of attitude, but she had to be damned tired of people dismissing her.

Tripp certainly was.

He had experienced something similar when he was her age. As the son of a wily Goddess, he was tested frequently. And as the years passed, he’d proved his mettle, but Elara would have to do double the work to prove her worth. Regardless of intelligence, a woman had to have twice the resilience and fortitude. Tripp hated it, but in society’s eyes, it was still a man’s world.

“That’s not what I meant.” Mae touched her wrist. “You seem like opposites. You’re bookish, and he’s?—”

“Bookish,” Tripp stated coolly. Why did everyone find it difficult to believe he could be attracted to Elara? She was intelligent, beautiful in her subdued way, and caring ofeveryone. “It’s one of many things we have in common. I have a weekly standing order at theNever Too Manybookstore.”

“My mother’s shop.” Mae’s eyes misted. “How is she?”

“You’d know if you ever visited,” Elara snapped.

Mae sucked in a sharp breath.

Rupert leaned in, his expression forbidding. “Don’t speak to her that way, young lady!”

“What’s this to be, then, Dad? A clash of the Titans?” Elara sneered. “I can tell by your surprise you didn’t think Payton or I would find out what we are.”

His aquamarine eyes narrowed on Tripp. “Was this your doing?”

“Partially, but it wasn’t intentional.” He covered her balled fist with his hand. “Your daughter’s magic was enhanced by a Trickster’s, and the result woke her sleeping Titan and nymph cells.”

Mae pressed her hand flat against her chest as if shocked. Perhaps she was. Or she was the best actress alive. If her distress was a performance, it was highly believable.

Rupert surged to his feet, rattling the china tea set and serving dishes.

“If this is true, and you’ve transitioned, you can’t be here, Elara,” he said. “It’s not safe if your power has been activated.” To Tripp, he said, “Find a secluded place for her—off grid—and cloak it. For her safety.”

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