Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
Tripp Nightshade.
Elara had waxed on about him ad nauseam during her appointment, to the point Harrison Cobb dozed off. And what did that say about her obsession? More importantly, what did it say about her ? If she couldn’t keep her therapist engaged, how could she keep someone like Tripp from snoozing?
“My apologies, Elara,” Harrison said, wiping saliva from the side of his mouth and blinking away his embarrassment. “It wasn’t you. I?—”
“No, it’s okay, Dr. Cobb.” She smiled weakly. “I may have gotten carried away.” And why wouldn’t she? Tripp was heavenly. Still, the world didn’t need to know about her pathetic crush. She prayed Harrison wouldn’t retell the story of this appointment to his therapist cronies at their next shrink convention.
“Elara.” His voice was kind and caring, but she imagined he utilized that tone with everyone.
“You don’t have to say it.”
And he didn’t. Her self-doubt routine was old, even to her. What she wouldn’t give for something to make her interesting, though. Something to make her sexy and untamed, perhaps a little wicked, so she’d be worthy in Tripp’s eyes. Many would tell her a man wasn’t worth it if she had to work so hard to keep his attention, and they were right.
Mostly.
The exception: Tripp .
“I’ll see you next month, Doc.”
Or not.
What did she really have to complain about anyway? Many, many people had it worse in the world. So what if she was suffering unrequited love? So what if her parents were deadbeats who took off without a word, and the only person to care about her was her wild-child sister, who only ever thought of herself? She had a job—granted, one that didn’t pay well—and a roof over her head, right?
Elara sailed out the door before rebooking. The office manager had billed her before the appointment and would no doubt call by next week to book a follow-up. But just maybe, she wouldn’t answer. After her embarrassing moment in the alley, what was the point? She needed to leave Witchmere and start over somewhere no one knew her. Somewhere Tripp Nightshade wasn’t. If she didn’t, she’d continue to make a cake of herself and never find a life partner. How could she when she was consumed by thoughts of a relationship with a man she could never have?
She made it to the main road with relative ease, but the rest of her day went straight to hell. It didn’t pass go or collect two hundred dollars.
Across the street from Dr. Cobb’s office building, Tripp was embracing another woman.
Elara’s stomach bottomed out, and her chest literally ached, feeling uncomfortably like a heart attack. Had someone offered her a million dollars, right then and there, to control her facial expression, she’d be unable to collect. So when Tripp glanced her way, her dismay was on full display. For a fleeting moment, their gazes locked, and he appeared regretful.
Yep. She had to leave this place. Pronto!
Doing what she’d done hundreds of times in hundreds of situations, she smiled tightly and turned away, hurrying down the sidewalk toward her apartment building. Thank goodness Witchmere was a small town, and everything was within walking distance because it only took her three minutes and fifteen seconds to reach her door. By three minutes and seventeen seconds, she had it unlocked, and by three minutes and twenty-five seconds, she was face down on her bed, giving into self-pity.
“Meow.” The sound was a raspy mix of hoarse and harsh, as if her cat struggled to produce it.
“Please, leave me alone, Hex. I don’t want you to see me this way.”
She’d have sworn she heard him harumph right before repeatedly nudging her, thereby forcing her to roll onto her side. He settled against her abdomen in the C her curled-up body made. Giving him a rub behind the ear, as was his due, she sniffed.
“What part of ‘leave me alone’ didn’t you get, you pushy thing?”
If a feline could roll its eyes, Sir Hex-a-lot would’ve. Hell, Elara wasn’t positive he didn’t. The beast butted her hand and twisted to expose his underside.
“I’m not falling for this one. Rubbing your belly will end in me being bitten,” she replied.
He cracked one eyelid and glared with his eery emerald eye, made brighter by the black of his shiny coat.
“Fine. But if you bite me, you’re only getting kibble for the next week. No snacky snacks.”
“Meow.”
Knocking sounded from the other room, and Elara held her breath as she considered her options. Her sister had a key, and if she’d forgotten it, she could unlock the door using magic. Odds were she wouldn’t knock. It wasn’t as if she had friends and no one else ever bothered to come by.
Her traitorous heart perked up, sure it was Tripp. But Elara shut that shit down. Two factors were fighting against her hope. One, he didn’t know where she lived; two, he had another to occupy his time. Rowen Sanderson. She was one of many townies and was beautiful in every way. It didn’t hurt that she had her shit together, unlike Elara.
“Elara.”
She sat up so fast and straight that had anyone seen her, they’d believe a cattle prod was inserted up her rump.
“Tripp,” she whispered in horror to Hex. “What do I do?”
“You open the door,” Tripp called.
She frowned.
How the hell had he heard her?
Shaking her head, she flopped onto her back. She was dreaming. She had to be.
“Elara, open the damned door.”
“Go away,” she hollered. “I’m napping!”
Her door flew back on its hinges. From her spot on the bed, she watched in stunned amazement as Tripp’s curious gaze surveyed his surroundings before it landed on her. She launched herself from the bed as if her ass caught fire, causing Hex to hiss his irritation. And, like any annoyed feline looking to show his displeasure, he hiked a leg and began licking his balls.
“Manners, Hex,” she reminded him.
The cat ignored her.
“Rude,” she muttered.
When she looked up, it was to find Tripp leaning against the doorjamb of her bedroom, arms crossed and a wide grin on his perfect face. Anger brewed inside her belly like a boiling cauldron, ready to bubble over.
Of all the arrogant, self-assured Neanderthals!
“Why the blue blazes did you break into my place, and why shouldn’t I call Dailey Cobb to come arrest your gorgeous ass?” She managed to stop her jaw from dropping. Why the hell did every thought pop out of her mouth around him?
His dark eyes gleamed with unholy amusement, but he merely watched her.
“Don’t think I won’t you… you… you scoundrel!”
Proud of herself, she squared her shoulders and glared.
His black brows shot up, but he remained mute, thereby causing her meltdown. Why did no one listen to her? Where was the respect she tried hard to earn?
“You’re a good-for-nothing gigolo, determined to leave a trail of broken hearts in your wake with your wide shoulders and devil-may-care attitude. Does Rowen know you’re here? Probably not!”
As per usual, Tripp allowed Elara to ramble on and dig herself in deeper. During her sputtering stand, she used the heels of her hands and swiped at the tears from her fresh, makeup-less face. The sight of her upset caused his stomach to sour. He’d been on his way to speak with her when Rowan thought flinging herself in his arms would be a good idea. Understanding her aim was to annoy Harrison, who happened to be glancing out the window at that precise moment, Tripp did nothing to stop her.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t planned for Elara to leave the building right then. Hell, she’d had another fifteen minutes left of her appointment. How was he to know she’d choose that exact second to walk out the door? He’d tried to tell himself he wasn’t doing anything wrong by allowing Rowan to play her games, but Elara’s feelings had been caught in the crossfire, and her expression was like a fucking gut punch.
“I’m sorry,” he said, unfolding his arms and straightening.
“You should be. You can’t just go around breaking into women’s apartments. No wonder half the town thinks you’re?—”
“No, Elara. I’m not sorry for storming the gates. I’m sorry about Rowen.”
Her skin flushed the shade of a turnip, and she presented her back, giving a little shrug in the process. “Why should I care?”
Why, indeed? But she did, and oddly, he did, too.
“You shouldn’t,” he told her, and it was the absolute truth. She would only get her heart broken when he left. And he would leave. He’d be forced to when his mother eventually discovered his location. Demigods could keep a low profile if they kept their abilities under wraps, but they still produced a magical signature, and a skilled tracker could—and would—find him.
“Well, I don’t,” she snapped, whirling to face him. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave. I have things to do.”
The devil on his shoulder held more influence than any angel could, and Tripp couldn’t let her comment go unchallenged. He stepped toward her. “Such as?”
Like a goldfish trapped in a bowl, her mouth opened and closed rhythmically.
“Well?” he taunted softly when there were less than three inches between them.
He could smell the peppermint on her huffing breath, and for the first time in his life, he decided he didn’t hate the cooling scent. His desire to taste it, to taste her , was driving him to behave recklessly. If he kissed her, things would never be the same for either of them.
“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he heard his devil whisper into the shell of her ear.
The shock of her fingers weaving through his hair was like a live wire through his system, and his body woke from its semi-slumbering state. Magic crackled around them as she tugged his head back and stared into his eyes.
Hers were large and wary, like a doe encountering a wolf. But deep in their recesses, he saw the answering spark of the inferno she had just ignited. Naturally red, plump lips parted, beckoning and urging him to throw caution to the winds. And when the tip of her pink tongue swept the opening, adding the sheerest hint of glistening moisture, he groaned.
Their bodies, needing no instruction, gravitated together, and the feel of her firm breasts pressed to his chest sent blood shooting to his dick. Tripp hadn’t had an instantaneous reaction like this in decades, and the building hard-on pressing against the wall of her soft belly was about to get him into serious trouble.
Her focus dropped to his mouth, and she released a kitten-like mewl.
He was lost.
With nothing left but the consuming need to touch, to kiss, to savor her peppermint flavor, he did.
The instant his tongue met hers, the room darkened. Beyond the window, a flickering lightning flash was followed by a resounding thunderous boom. It shook the building before the skies opened, and a sideways sweeping downpour began.
Still, their kiss continued. Her hands burrowed under his cashmere sweater, and her fingertips dug into his lat muscles as if she held on for dear life. He, in turn, cradled her face between his large palms. The feel of her silky skin was everything he’d imagined on those nights when he gave himself leave to fantasize about touching her.
With his senses thoroughly flooded by the raging elements and Elara’s unexpected passion, Tripp jerked backward, breathing hard. With her sparkling eyes, cheeks flushed a becoming shade of rose, and kiss-swollen lips a deep crimson, she looked like a goddess come to life. The thudding of his pulse nearly drowned out the pounding rain.
“Who the hell knew you could kiss like that?” He didn’t recognize the hoarse voice as his own.
Eyes as wide as saucers, she used her fingertips to caress her mouth. That light, teasing touch almost did him in. Either he needed to escape to regroup or sweep her into bed and never leave it again.
“I gotta go,” he muttered. But he was reluctant to teleport away, especially when disappointment shone in her expressive peepers.
“I have to,” he insisted.
Because if he didn’t, the storm they’d inadvertently caused might become a typhoon of epic proportions and wipe Witchmere off the map. But he didn’t dare tell her that. It would never do to let another know the power they could evoke in him.