Chapter Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elara’s eyes flared wide, and she attempted to turn her head, but Tripp was faster and blocked her from viewing Hermes’s perfect ass. He’d never had anyone compare his sculpted backside to his cousin’s, but he wasn’t taking any chances she might become enthralled by the sight.
“Is that Hermes?” she asked in a hushed voice. Her apartment wasn’t exactly the size of the Taj Mahal, and the sound carried.
Hermes turned, giving them a full frontal, not in the least concerned about his nudity.
“Put that thing away, or it won’t be the head above your shoulders on a pike,” Tripp growled, continuing to block Elara’s curious gaze.
With a gasp rivaling an outraged maiden, Hermes cupped himself. “What have I ever done to you ?”
“Those fucking boots!”
“Yeah, well, those were originally intended for your mother and your deadbeat dad,” he said with a dismissive shrug and snap of his fingers. Clothed in an outfit similar to the one he wore last night, he grinned. “You can release your woman. I’ve removed all temptation.”
“Dick,” Tripp retorted.
Hermes glanced down as if to check. “No. I’ve covered it.”
Elara laughed, and Tripp was startled by the beautiful sound. Hermes, too. His attention locked on her like a wolf does its prey.
“Don’t even think about it,” Tripp warned with a growl. “She’s mine.”
Satisfaction curled his cousin’s lips, and color burst from the purple jewels on Elara’s boots. She gasped and scrambled to her feet.
“Slow your roll, dude!” Her balled hands met her hips.
“What’s the problem, flitter-mouse? You’ve wanted me since I arrived in this piddly little town.”
Her dark scowl was worrisome. “Wait. You think you can come in here, demand I do what you want by giving up my cat and boots, kiss me so thoroughly it shakes the earth”—she pointed downward—“and cracks my tile, then have the nerve to claim me? Like I’m a fucking trophy you won as spoils of war? You also insulted my town. Are you cracked in the head?”
“Her tongue is sharp enough to castrate a man, isn’t it?” Hermes crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, settling in for the entertainment. “I like this one, cousin.”
“Fuck off already!” Tripp waved a hand and sent Hermes to the same lake Elara dumped him after she received the boots. “Elara, flitter-mouse, listen?—”
“No. I’m no pushover, Tripp Nightshade, so get that idea right out of your thick skull.”
“I never said you were.” He surged to his feet. “Hermes makes me and everyone else within a hundred-mile radius of him mad as a hatter. He delights in chaos, as I’ve warned you before. As a tool for his special brand of fuckery, those boots heighten your emotions. Which is precisely why I’ve been attempting to get them off you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Tell the truth. Was your intent to seduce me to give them up?”
The compulsion to tell the truth was too strong to resist. “Yes.”
She paled. “You never wanted me before I put them on, did you?”
“I did want you, but I was never going to act on it.”
A rush of blood flooded her face, turning her skin a fevered pink.
“The only reason you’re doing it now is the boots, yes?”
“Yes.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away and lifted her chin.
“And Hex? Who is he really?”
“Hermes.”
The shock made her face slack, but crushing pain followed, contorting her features.
“Stay away from me, Tripp Nightshade. For now, forever.”
The pull of an escape was strong. Despite the feeling of acid burning his skin, he fought the enchantment.
“Elara, listen to me,” he demanded through gritted teeth. “Please, reverse your spell.”
“There’s no spell! It’s a simple statement, and I don’t ever want to se?—”
Hermes clapped a dripping hand over her mouth. “Careful, love. As much as I hate to admit it, Tripp is correct. The boots amplify your emotions and use your natural abilities to create havoc.”
She tugged his wrist until he released her. “Bullshit! I don’t have that kind of magic.”
“Look at his skin, Elara,” he urged in a gentle tone one uses for wild animals. “Go on. He is physically hurting.”
Her head whipped around just as Tripp held up his exposed forearms. Blisters were bubbling up and bursting, causing untold agony—all because he continued to fight her directive to leave.
“Tripp?” Her horror could bring tears to an onlooker’s eyes. “How do I reverse it, Hermes? Tell me, please.”
“Speak the words from your heart. The emotion you truly feel for him and not those caused by anger.”
She rushed to Tripp, prepared to cup his face, but withdrew and clasped her hands over her heart. “I’m sorry. Your truth was hard to hear. In my rage, I wanted to send you away.” Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. “Stay or go, Tripp. The decision is yours.”
The heaviness in the air dissipated, and his wounds healed, leaving raw, angry marks in their place. It took longer for his face to stop burning. He expelled a relieved breath as the pain eased.
“I won’t order you to go, but I will ask that you both leave me alone. Please,” she said in a quiet voice. Her eyes were so large and tragic that it was impossible to refuse. Yet Tripp didn’t want to abandon her in such a state.
“Elara—”
“Please, Tripp,” she begged. “I need to be by myself for a while.”
He met Hermes worried gaze over her head. When his cousin nodded, so did he. “All right. But will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“What’s the point?” she asked tiredly as she sat down. With light fingers, she traced the jeweled pattern on the leather. “They are so beautiful and made me feel special.”
He squatted and attempted to stroke her face, but she drew back, shunning his touch. With a regretful sigh, he said, “You are special, flitter-mouse. Unique and lovely, like no one else.”
“I’m not. Not enough to make anyone stay.” The single tear from her haunted eyes stung more than her unintentional spell.
“Elara,” he whispered achingly. “The flaw isn’t with you. It’s with others.”
Lifting her head, she locked gazes with him. “You’re not flawed. You’re perfect. So yes, the problem is me.”
“No, I’m far from perfect. You’re in love with this package.” He waved a hand to indicate his body, then tapped his head. “Not what’s in here.”
“I’ve seen your many kindnesses when you think people aren’t looking, Tripp. And you could buy from larger bookstores or online, but you support Flo’s small business with your weekly orders.”
“Those were so I could see you when I came by,” he confessed.
She smiled, and the bittersweet quality killed him. “I always hid.”
“I know, but not before I saw you.”
The understanding that this might be the last time Elara looked upon his stunning visage caused an ache of such magnitude that she was sure her heart was breaking. The boots would need to be returned to Hermes, and she’d need to accept the truth her beloved Hex was no more.
She shuddered as she recalled how the supposed cat hung out on the bed whenever she changed.
“Hermes, if you ever pose as a cat again, I’ll find you and skin you alive,” she warned.
He grinned, unrepentant. “At least I got to see you nude, and our boy Tripp never will.”
The ground rumbled.
“I’m going to kill you, cousin,” Tripp promised. “Mark my words.”
Elara lifted her leg to remove the boot, but the zipper disappeared as she reached for the tab. Whipping her head up, she glared at Hermes.
“What’s your game this time?”
“No game. The boots are charmed, and they don’t feel their mission is completed.”
“How does she get them off?” Tripp lurched to his feet, prepared for battle.
“She doesn’t. Not until the two of you resolve your relationship.”
“We just did,” she said, jumping up and standing beside Tripp in unity.
He swung to stare down at her. “How so?”
She looked between him and Hermes, feeling like she was losing her mind. “I’m getting whiplash from all of this,” she complained. “So okay, let me break it down for you. One: After what happened, we’re on the same page and believe the boots gotta go.”
“True.”
“Two: Hex, aka Hermes, has to go.”
“Agreed.”
“Three: You don’t want me like I do you?—”
“Not true.” Tripp wrapped his hand around her neck, tilting her head back to meet his intense gaze. “So not true, flitter-mouse. I’ve repeatedly told you, but you refuse to listen. Mortals and gods don’t mix.”
“So why not give up your powers?” Hermes suggested.
Tripp dropped his hand so fast Elara stumbled.
“It’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make for any woman,” he ground out. “But she answered the objections you and your fucking boots might have, so remove them, Hermes.”
“No can do, cousin!” He plopped down on the sofa and spread his arms wide along the top, grinning. “You have to resolve the love between you to the spell’s satisfaction. You haven’t.”
“He doesn’t love me,” Elara told him.
Squinting one eye, Hermes crinkled his nose. “Doesn’t he, though?”
“I’m never getting these damned things off,” she cried in despair.
“Spill it, Hermes,” Tripp ground out. “Now, before I tie your limbs like a fucking pretzel.”
Weighing the threat, Hermes glanced between them. “I’ll tell you, but only because I like Elara, and she has a rocking body I want to cuddle up with again.”
Tripp lunged, diving into an empty couch.
From across the room, Hermes laughed. “You’re so predictable.”
Elara rose and pressed a hand to Tripp’s chest, hoping to stop another charge.
What would a Trickster do in this situation if they wanted an answer? A wicked smile curled her mouth, and Hermes sobered.
“You’ll tell us what you know, Divine Trickster, or I’ll compel you to walk naked through Witchmere, clucking like a chicken.”
“Sonofa—fine!” he snapped.
Tripp wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “Nicely done, flitter-mouse.”
Hermes resumed his place on the sofa, gesturing them to sit while he retold the tale.