Chapter 4
Marcus stared up at the woman he adored and despised.
She was so damn beautiful with her dark hair streaming over her shoulders, those green eyes closed now as she shifted herself against his shaft.
But she couldn’t get there, not like this.
He knew her. He understood her body. He’d made love to Sorcia so many times during the six months they’d been together and he knew exactly what she needed.
For a moment, he considered not giving it to her.
But this was Sorcia. He could never deny her anything for very long.
So, he reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples. Those green eyes opened and she gasped, pleading, her back arching again as she continued to ride him.
Then he pinched her nipples. Hard at first, but easing the pressure when she screamed as her body convulsed.
And that did it for him. The sound of her ragged gasps threw him over the edge and he thrust into her, grasping her hips so he could thrust harder, extending her pleasure as he found his own.
When it came, he felt as if all of the anger and tension from the last two years had drained out of him, washing away like a shattering thunderstorm.
And then she dropped to lay across his chest, her breath warm against his neck, as her body slowly relaxed.
It had always been like this between them. Fire and passion, then sweet, gentle touches. A tempest that never truly calmed.
He knew the exact moment Sorcia realized what had just happened.
Her body tensed, her muscles going rigid, and she pushed up abruptly, her dark hair falling like a curtain around them.
Her green eyes widened as they locked onto his, and the flush creeping across her cheeks told him everything before she even spoke.
“That didn’t happen,” she gasped, her voice sharp, almost frantic.
Marcus raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement despite the gravity of the moment. “Oh, it didn’t?” he drawled, his voice low and rough, still tinged with the remnants of their shared passion. “Then what exactly did happen, Sorcia? Enlighten me.”
Her jaw tightened, and she scrambled away from him, her movements hurried and chaotic.
She grabbed for her blouse—what was left of it, anyway—and frowned as she noticed the singed edges, some still sizzling faintly.
“It was nothing,” she said, her tone defensive, as if the words could erase what had just transpired.
“Nothing?” Marcus echoed, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze following her every movement. “You call that nothing?” His voice was steady, firm, but there was a hint of something deeper—something raw and unrelenting in his tone.
She refused to look at him, her fingers fumbling with the charred fabric as she tried to cover herself. “It was… an accident. A mistake.”
He was on his feet in an instant, his movements fluid and predatory as he closed the distance between them.
“A mistake?” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, the intensity in his eyes burning hotter.
“You’re going to stand there, barely dressed, with your magic still crackling in the air around us, and call it a mistake? ”
“Yes!” she snapped, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm, the contact sending a spark of heat between them. She flinched but didn’t pull away, her breath hitching as his hand slid up to cup her chin, gently forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Don’t lie to yourself. What just happened was real. It’s always been real.”
Her eyes flashed with defiance, though tears threatened to spill over. “It doesn’t matter,” she bit out, her voice cracking. “It doesn’t change anything. It can’t.”
“It changes everything,” Marcus countered, his grip tightening just slightly, grounding her. “And you know it.”
She shook her head, her dark hair swaying with the motion. “No, it doesn’t. I won’t let it.”
He stepped closer, their bodies nearly touching again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You can try to deny it all you want, Sorcia. But I felt it. And so did you.”
Her lips parted, her breath shallow, but she refused to answer. The weight of his words settled heavily in her chest, and for a moment, the room was filled only with the crackle of residual magic and the sound of their ragged breathing.
Finally, she wrenched her face away from his hand, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “Just… stop.”
But Marcus didn’t move. He didn’t relent. His gaze bore into hers, unyielding, as he spoke the words that broke through every wall she’d tried to rebuild.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sorcia. Not this time. Not after what we just shared.”
Her heart clenched, her resolve faltering as the truth of his words sank in. Because, deep down, she knew he was right.
Marcus straightened, smoothing his slacks and zipping them up with practiced ease.
Since she hadn’t bothered to take them off, the fabric was wrinkled but intact.
His shirt, however, was beyond saving, the edges charred and curling.
With a snap of his fingers, a new one appeared in his hand.
He moved slowly, his gaze never leaving her as he slipped it on and began buttoning it, watching as Sorcia raised her hand.
A moment later, a silk robe flew from her closet, weaving itself through her fingers. She pulled it around her, tying the sash with a sharp tug, though Marcus wondered if she realized how the silk molded to her curves, highlighting every line of her figure like it had been made for her.
“We can’t… do that again,” she said, her voice low and uncertain, the words more for herself than for him.
Marcus finished fastening his shirt, slipping his feet into polished leather loafers. He sighed softly, the sound laced with a patience he rarely afforded anyone else. “You’re in danger, Sorcia. Your whole coven is in danger. And I’m here to help.”
Her eyes darkened, the flicker of anger he expected rising to the surface. But he held her gaze, his tone softening. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but stop for a moment. Think. Can you honestly tell me you haven’t felt anything unusual? Any unexpected reverberations in the sphaera?”
Her expression faltered, the telltale flicker of recognition in her eyes confirming what he already suspected.
“You felt something,” he said quietly, stepping closer.
His hand reached out, catching the tails of her silk sash between his fingers.
The softness of the fabric contrasted with the tension humming in the air between them.
“Sorcia, if your coven is being challenged, we need to face it together. You’re powerful.
Everyone knows that. Your witches love you, and they would do anything for you.
” He paused, his voice dropping even lower.
“But you’ve felt a disturbance. You know something is wrong. ”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. He could see the struggle in her expression, the fierce determination to protect her coven warring with her deep-seated need to keep him at arm’s length.
Marcus let go of the sash and stepped back, giving her the space he knew she needed. He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the sofa, sliding his arms into the sleeves with smooth precision. Adjusting the collar, he glanced at her again, his tone steady but gentle.
“Why don’t you gather your high council tomorrow and see if they’ve felt anything, too? Then we’ll come up with a plan. If we need to involve other covens, we’ll do it together. But for now, let’s figure this out before it’s too late.”
He moved toward the door but paused, his hand resting on the doorknob.
Turning back to her, his expression softened, though his eyes held a glint of mischief.
“And yes, Sorcia, that really did happen. And it will happen again. You can deny it all you want, but I know you enjoyed every damn minute of it.”
Her cheeks flushed, and Marcus allowed himself a small smile. Whether her reaction was anger, embarrassment, or something in between, he didn’t linger to find out. He knew when to make a tactical retreat.
With one last look, he stepped through the door, the sound of it clicking shut echoing in the quiet loft.
Sorcia stood frozen for a moment, her fingers tightening around the silk sash as she stared at the spot where he had just been.
The air still crackled with the remnants of his presence, a mix of exasperation, lingering desire, and an undeniable truth she wasn’t ready to face.