Chapter 10 Nia
Nia
“YES, THAT LOVE SPELL WAS A MISTAKE. NO, YOU CAN’T UNDO IT.” —THE WEEKLY HEX
Nia woke to Jade’s gentle snore and the dog’s solid form pressed firmly against her back. On her other side, the warm weight of a body rose and fell beneath her cheek, comforting in a way that sent a sleepy hum through her.
The scent of cedar, something clean, and something undeniably Lochlan filled her lungs.
She sighed, melting further into the warmth, the faint brush of his skin and the light dusting of hair beneath her fingertips grounding her in half-conscious contentment.
It was instinctual, the way her body gravitated toward his.
She let herself drift there for a fleeting moment—until reality crashed over her like a bucket of cold water.
She opened her eyes and froze.
The slight movement made Lochlan shift, his arm tightening where it rested across her ribs, muscles flexing in a way that sent a pulse of awareness through her. She held her breath, panic warring with the pull of drowsy comfort.
Lochlan’s breathing evened out again.
Carefully, slowly, she began to untangle herself from his embrace.
There should be medals for this kind of acrobatics, she thought, her heart pounding as she slipped from the bed without disturbing him—or Jade, who gave her a single, judgmental glance before tucking her head back down.
Nia closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it, ignoring the pang of guilt gnawing at her chest. Cuddling could not—would not—be allowed. Not with Lochlan. Not with anyone.
She glared at her reflection and muttered, “You liked that way too much.”
Lochlan was sweet. He was kind. He was handsome in a rugged, unassuming way that made her stomach twist inconveniently. But none of that mattered. What mattered was how dangerous it felt to like him, to want to reach for him, even in sleep.
She splashed water on her face and let the cold shock her back to clarity.
She’d taken a vow years ago at eighteen, with her mother’s journal clutched in shaking hands—a promise carved deep inside herself. She would never give away her freedom. Never let anyone dictate her life the way her father had done with her mother.
To Nia, marriage was a trap. And she had made it her mission to live the life her mother had been denied.
And yet…
She thought about the quiet sadness in Lochlan’s voice last night, the way his loneliness seemed to linger in the corners of every room. She felt something twist painfully in her chest. Why was he so alone? How did someone like him end up here?
She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away as she dried her hands. That wasn’t her problem to solve. It couldn’t be. She needed to prove her father wrong, and that meant not getting close to Lochlan. It meant she couldn’t like waking up in his arms, feeling so irritatingly happy and rested.
“You will not get attached,” she told her reflection, sternly. “You will get out of this mess unmarried.”
She repeated the mantra under her breath as she went through her morning routine, her determination fraying only slightly when the bewitching smell of coffee drifted upstairs, drawing her toward the kitchen.
Lochlan leaned against the counter with a mug in his hand.
The morning light spilled across the warm brown skin of his hands and arms, highlighting broad shoulders and large biceps that flexed subtly with each sip.
He spilled a little coffee, muttered a soft curse, and lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face like it was the most casual, unbothered thing in the world.
Nia’s brain lit up with warning signals, but it was hard to heed them when faced with the blatant distraction that were his abs.
They weren’t chiseled or airbrushed—they were rugged, real, and undeniably him.
Her eyes betrayed her, tracing the faint line from his abs to where his worn gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, barely hanging on.
Her foot missed the next step.
“Shit—fuck, ow!” she yelped as her body hit the unforgiving wood, the jarring impact knocking the wind out of her.
Lochlan was in front of her in seconds. “Nia, what happened?” he demanded, concerned.
She blinked up at him, her pride stinging almost as much as her tailbone. The words “you and your abs” hovered at the tip of her tongue. Instead, she muttered, “Just clumsy.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, brow furrowed.
“I’m fine.” She let him help her to her feet.
But before she could steady herself, Jade bounded down the stairs with all the enthusiasm of a dog who thought she was saving the day. Her paws landed squarely against Nia’s back, pushing her into Lochlan’s chest.
“Goddess help me,” she grunted against his neck.
He smelled amazing—woodsy and clean, with just a hint of coffee—and the heat of him seeped through her clothes like he was a damn furnace.
She pulled back and glanced up, locking eyes with him.
His gaze was a mix of worry and something softer, edged with humor.
Her head felt light, almost dizzy, and her hands twitched like they didn’t know whether to steady herself or linger.
“I made coffee and breakfast.” The words rumbled out of him, quiet and warm, and her treacherous brain focused on the slight flex of muscle beneath her palms.
She cleared her throat, cheeks burning. “Coffee. Good.” It was all she could manage before stepping back, desperate to put some space between them.
Nia walked on unsteady legs toward the kitchen, eager to regain some semblance of composure. Lochlan handed her a steaming mug of coffee.
“Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his as she took the cup, the brief contact sparking a jolt of warmth that had nothing to do with the drink.
Lochlan, ever polite, offered her a ride to work. She shook her head too quickly, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “No, I’m fine. It’s a nice day and walks are good.”
She could barely string a coherent thought together. The idea of being in a confined space with him when his sheer presence was making it impossible to think? What had she told herself in the shower this morning… something about not getting attached?
Nia took a hurried sip of coffee, the drink grounding her just enough for her to mumble a quick goodbye and slip out the door.
* * *
By the time Nia arrived at her building, the street was bustling with people.
Hints of October were creeping in—bundles of wheat leaned against storefronts, pumpkins stacked neatly in crates, and workers carried decorations toward the town center in preparation for next week’s autumn festival.
Stella Rune took its fairs and celebrations seriously.
Ivy waited outside the Charis office, two Goblin Grind coffee cups in hand and a glint of mischief in her blue eyes. Nia clutched the ceramic mug that was now cold from her walk. She hadn’t meant to take it. She’d just… walked out with it like some kind of mug thief.
Nia accepted the new coffee, its logo shimmering faintly on the paper cup: a goblin skull floating in black liquid, glamoured from non-magical eyes. The flavor was rich, familiar—a comfort.
But it wasn’t as good as his.
Damn it.
Now she was annoyed—angry, even—that Lochlan’s coffee had the audacity to rival Goblin Grind. Was it some kind of magic? Did Lochlan and the goblins have some kind of secret coffee pact? Because if so, she wanted in.
“So,” Ivy said, her grin widening. She didn’t budge from her spot, clearly settling in for a chat. “How was your night?”
Nia inhaled slowly through her nose, her patience already wearing thin, and brushed past the witch. “Busy,” she muttered, unlocking the doors. She flipped on the lights, set the speakers to their usual morning playlist, and moved purposefully into her office. Ivy trailed behind.
“We have a case of maple syrup being dropped off at eleven,” Nia began, ignoring the way Ivy was practically vibrating with impatience. “And Johanna from Peter’s Diner is bringing the batter the morning of the fundraiser. She said something about not trusting us with her famous pancake recipe.”
She settled behind her desk, hoping the physical barrier might discourage the inquisition.
It didn’t.
“Niiiaaahhh,” Ivy whined, with melodramatic despair. “I want details. My love life has been non-existent for so long, I’m starting to think I’ve been cursed.”
Ivy’s bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout as she stomped her foot.
Nia frowned thoughtfully. Ivy could be over-the-top, but she was also stunning, sweet, and practically magnetic.
She’d rarely been without a lover, or at least a date.
But, now that Nia thought about it, things really had slowed down since the annulment.
She filed that thought away for later—a puzzle to figure out when her business partner wasn’t pestering her for gossip.
For now, she’d give in.
“Fine,” Nia groaned.
Ivy squealed with glee, clapping her hands together before flopping into the chair across from Nia’s desk. “Okay, spill!”
Nia pinched the bridge of her nose. “We cuddled, but it didn’t mean anything,” she said, trying to keep her tone dismissive. “We were sleeping. It was non-consensual cuddling.”
Ivy gasped, her eyes going wide. “So he forced you to cuddle with him?”
“What? No!” Nia blurted, sitting up straighter. “He wouldn’t force me to do anything.” The words came too quickly, and she scrambled to recover. “Not that I would know that about him, or anything, but…”
Her words trailed off as the truth crept in.
She did know that about him.
Lochlan wasn’t the kind of man who would force anything—especially not something like that. And, honestly, it hadn’t been forced at all. She’d used him as a pillow, their legs tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
If anything, she was at fault. He’d offered to sleep on the couch. She was the one who’d said they should share a bed, which, in retrospect, might not have been the best idea. But they could. There would just be no cuddling next time. Absolutely none.
When she snapped out of her thoughts, Ivy was smiling at her like a cat who’d cornered a particularly amusing mouse.
“Anyway,” Nia said briskly, waving her hand to dismiss the topic. “I don’t have other details besides the fact he’s an amazing cook and his dog is adorable.”
Ivy opened her mouth to reply, but Nia cut her off with a pointed look.
“We have a lot to do today.”
She wanted to bury herself in work and snuff out the smoldering heat the morning with Lochlan had kindled. The warmth of his touch, the scent of him, the quiet weight of his presence—it all lingered too vividly in her mind.
Her phone dinged, jolting her from her thoughts. Her heart leapt as, for an absurd moment, she thought it might be Lochlan. But when she glanced at the screen, her pulse quickened for an entirely different reason.
One of her marks had agreed to a meeting. Tonight. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Exacting judgement on a vicious witch was exactly the distraction she needed.