Epilogue
Tripp Nightshade.
Elara sighed in contentment as he rolled onto his back and drew her close. “Did you feel the earth move? I’m sure I did.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” he growled, giving her a one-armed squeeze.
“The ground or the sex?”
He laughed. “I was disappointed you didn’t cry out, ‘pass the salami,’ when you came.”
“It was a struggle to keep it in,” she assured him, absently caressing one of his glorious, glorious shoulders. “I think you’re right about the whole wood-nymph-broad-shoulder obsession. It’s been a month of constant contact, and I still can’t stop touching them.”
“Told you.”
Smiling, she rolled atop him and rested her chin on her folded arms. “So, who do you think will get my boots next?”
“My balls shriveled. Thanks for that.”
Elara laughed.
“When you think about it, it wasn’t so bad.”
Tripp raised his head from the pillow and gave her an are-you-bonkers look. “For who? My cousin? Because from where I was sitting, it was a shit show.”
“No, I mean it. No one got hurt, issues were resolved, my parents returned to Witchmere, and—best of all—you and I hooked up,” she said. “I no longer have to duck into alleys to avoid you.”
He laughed and rolled them over, settling himself between her thighs. “Now you duck into alleys to make out with me.”
She grinned. “Isn’t it great?”
“Did you have any doubt?”
“None.”
As she gazed into his sparkling eyes, she sighed. How lucky could one girl be? “Thank you for always finding me.”
“Thank you for always loving me.”
“You’re an easy man to love, Tripp Nightshade.”
“Are you satisfied?”
Brelenia looked up from her ledgers as Rand entered their shared office. Granted, the space was one-half of an Olympic-sized swimming pool. “That’s a loaded question, darling. Perhaps you should clarify.”
“Tripp’s happy and prepared to settle down.” Rand perched on the edge of her desk and toyed with a snow globe Elara had gifted her. Inside was a miniature snow-capped Mount Rainier. “You should be over the moon.”
“Oh, yes. The only thing that would please me more would be if she dismissed her ridiculous notions of modern women not having children.”
“Brelenia.” His tone was chiding, and it rankled.
“I know. I know,” she said in disgust, directed mainly at herself and her inability to let it go. “I’ve heard it often enough from Tripp.”
“Is it so bad?”
Brelenia shook her head. “No, and it isn’t as if she doesn’t have centuries to change her mind. I did.”
“Yes, you did. It only took a millennia or two,” he teased.
“It’s hard work running a country, as you well know.”
“Agreed.” His grin was indulgent and loving. “But you do it admirably.”
“I do.”
“Which of our children is next on your list?”
“Not one of ours.”
“No!” Rand surged to his feet and gripped the desk’s edge. “You will not interfere with another mortal’s life. I forbid it.”
Raising a brow, she stared him down.
“Okay, so I don’t necessarily forbid it. The Gods know that’s impossible, but I’m begging you, Brel, please don’t. Tripp and Elara barely averted disaster this time.”
“Hermes and I have a failsafe in place.”
“Impossible. It’s Trickster magic for a pair of shoes dating back centuries. They have a life of their own.” His features hardened. “Tell me this is not that blasted idiot’s doing?”
She cast a glance over his shoulder in time to see Hermes enter.
“I’m offended,” he said, looking highly amused as he approached.
Rand rounded on him. “As you should be, you dolt. You meddle in others’ lives but can’t manage your own relationships.”
Pain flashed in Hermes’s emerald eyes, but one had to be familiar with him to recognize it. With a careless shrug, he touched the snow globe, edging it closer to certain breakage.
Rand snatched it from Hermes and placed it on the desk’s center. “You’re worse than that blasted cat you pretended to be. Why must you toy with everything?”
A wicked gleam shone in her nephew’s eyes as they locked with hers. “Because it’s fun. Are you ready to discuss our next project, Brel?”
After throwing up his hands in defeat, Rand stalked to the sofa and plopped down, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place.
“Are you planning to stay for our meeting, darling?” she asked, already knowing damn well he wouldn’t leave her alone with Hermes for fear they’d end the world.
His answer was a tight-lipped glare.
“Payton Hawthorne will be our next project,” she declared.
Rand hung his head. “I should warn the girl.”
“Don’t you dare, or no sex for a decade!” Acting magnanimous, she gave a slight shrug and toyed with her pen. “But you can help steer the outcome if you’d like.”
“You’re a cruel, cruel woman, Brelenia of Messia, and you run a hard bargain.”
She grinned. “You’re in?”
“I’m in.”
THE END
Thanks for reading Wicked Witchmas.