Chapter 5
Sorcia left her loft the next day, her emotions warring in a chaotic storm—exhaustion, fury, and a gnawing edge of fear.
She was exhausted from a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, unable to banish the memory of Marcus’s arms around her, the way his touch had ignited her body and quieted her restless soul.
Furious because she knew she never should have let her guard down.
That moment of bliss—raw, unfiltered, and achingly familiar—never should have happened.
But beneath the anger simmered terror. She was terrified of succumbing to him again, of letting him back into her heart where he could do the most damage. Marcus had been her world once. No, he’d been more than that. He had been the axis around which her life revolved.
Two years ago, she had believed she’d found her forever.
She’d thought the sun rose and fell with him, that nothing in her life truly mattered until she’d shared it with Marcus.
Every triumph, every challenge, every small joy—none of it felt real until he knew about it.
The world had seemed brighter, fuller, more alive simply because he was in it.
The day they’d met was etched in her memory like an indelible mark.
She’d tripped over a chair, spilled her coffee, and—like a complete fool—blurted out that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
Sorcia, the poised, unflappable High Priestess, had turned into a stammering, dreamy-eyed mess over a male witch who had stolen her breath and her heart in a single moment.
But then… he’d destroyed her.
The betrayal cut deep, a wound so sharp and jagged it had ripped her apart from the inside out.
She still remembered the searing pain of that moment, the way her chest had constricted as if the air had been sucked from the room.
The memory of opening the envelope with the pictures of Marcus in bed with another woman was burned into her mind.
It had felt like her entire world imploded, leaving nothing but ash and ruin in its wake.
The images were as vivid now as it had been then—the sheets tangled around their bodies, the smug satisfaction on the woman’s face, and Marcus’s look of startled guilt, picture after picture of them…
together. Her stomach churned at the memory, bile rising in her throat.
The humiliation, the heartbreak, the utter devastation had gutted her.
She had fled, her chest heaving with sobs she’d barely held back until she was alone.
In the days that followed, her world spiraled into a dark abyss.
The life she’d carefully built crumbled under the weight of her grief.
She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus on anything but the shattering pain that consumed her.
Her appetite vanished along with her will to carry on, and she’d wasted away, her vibrant presence within her coven dimming to a shadow of its former self.
Her bed became a battleground, the space that had once been a haven of comfort now a place of torment. She would lie awake for hours, haunted by the memory of his betrayal, the ache in her chest so sharp it felt like a blade.
She had retreated into herself, her once fierce energy drained, her laughter silenced.
Even her magic faltered, her connection to the sphaera dulled by the relentless ache of betrayal gnawing at her soul.
She had trusted him, given him her heart, her everything—and he had shattered it without a second thought.
And now he was back, tearing through the fragile peace she’d fought so hard to rebuild. The memory of his arms around her, of the way her body had responded to his touch, only deepened her fury. How could she have let him in again? How could she have allowed herself even a moment of weakness?
Sorcia clenched her fists as she walked, her nails biting into her palms. She hated herself for still feeling anything for him, for still longing for the man who had destroyed her.
But more than that, she hated him for making her believe—for one perfect, fleeting moment—that she could feel whole again.
She wouldn’t let it happen again. She couldn’t let it happen. No matter how much her heart ached or how desperately her body betrayed her, she would never let Marcus break her again.
It had taken every ounce of strength Sorcia possessed to claw her way back from the abyss, to pick up the shattered pieces of her life and begin the arduous journey of healing.
With the support of her coven and the sheer force of her determination, she had rebuilt herself, brick by painstaking brick, until she’d emerged stronger, more resilient, and more guarded than before.
And now he was back.
“Damn it!” she hissed under her breath, shoving through the glass doors of her building.
Her mind raced, her emotions tangled in a storm of frustration, embarrassment, and longing she refused to acknowledge.
“I need coffee,” she muttered, turning towards the coffee shop around the corner.
The coffee was good—almost as good as the excuse it gave her to take a moment, pull herself together, and fortify herself before facing the other witches at the office.
But she didn’t make it three steps down the sidewalk before she saw him.
Marcus stood a few feet ahead, casually leaning against a lamppost. He held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and another in his outstretched hand, clearly intended for her. The sight stopped her in her tracks, memories flooding back like a tidal wave.
Mornings like this—happier mornings—when he’d brought her coffee as they walked to her office together. Mornings after nights when he’d held her, made love to her until they were both breathless, and whispered promises against her skin that she’d once believed with her whole heart.
“Cappuccino with skim milk and sugar-free chocolate syrup,” he said, his voice steady but softer than usual, as if he knew she was on the verge of bolting.
Sorcia hesitated, considering rejecting the offering out of sheer stubbornness. But damn him, he’d remembered the chocolate syrup—exactly how she liked it. Her favorite drink. And she had been heading to the coffee shop to order the very same thing.
“Thank you,” she replied stiffly, taking the cup from him. She was careful not to let their fingers touch, the memory of last night still fresh, her body betraying her even now with a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee.
“You’re welcome.” His voice was gentle, but she could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move, gauging her mood.
She turned sharply, heading back towards her office without waiting for him to follow. “Did you call a meeting?”
“Yes,” he replied simply, falling into step beside her.
They walked in tense silence for a moment, the unspoken weight of last night pressing heavily between them. Finally, Marcus broke the quiet. “Sorcia…”
“What?” she snapped, her fingers tightening around the cup.
“I’m not going to pretend last night didn’t happen,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “And I’m not going to apologize for it, either.”
She stopped abruptly, her head snapping up to meet his gaze. “You should,” she said sharply, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “It never should have happened.”
His expression softened, the usual edge of arrogance giving way to something more tender. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” she lied, her green eyes flashing with defiance. “We can’t—I won’t—let it happen again.”
Marcus held her gaze, his own eyes searching hers. “If that’s what you really want,” he said quietly, though the rough challenge in his tone was unmistakable, “then say it. Say you regret it. Say it meant nothing.”
Sorcia opened her mouth, ready to fire back with a cutting retort, but the words wouldn’t come. The truth lodged itself in her throat, refusing to be denied.
Instead, she turned on her heel and strode back towards her office, her pulse racing. “I have a meeting in an hour,” she called over her shoulder, her voice tight.
Marcus didn’t follow immediately. He just stood there for a long moment, watching her walk away. For a moment, she panicked, thinking he was going to leave her. Again. But she breathed a secret sigh of relief when he finally, he moved forward.
“What’s the code?” Marcus asked, his tone casual but curious as they walked side by side.
Every coven leader had a code they sent out to their council members. The code signaled an urgent meeting, and leadership members were expected to drop whatever they were doing to attend.
“Shopping,” Sorcia admitted after a brief pause, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t a major secret—meeting codes rarely were. Other messages carried more sensitive information, but this wasn’t one of them.
“All women?” he asked, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She laughed, nodding. “Yep.” The warmth of the sunshine on her face and his teasing tone eased some of the tension between them. “What’s yours?”
He grimaced, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I create a car alarm near each member’s location.”
Sorcia chuckled, the sound genuine despite the lingering awkwardness. “All men?”
“Yep.”
She nodded thoughtfully. It wasn’t unusual for a coven leader to surround themselves with members of the same gender, but it struck her as odd nonetheless.
When they’d been together two years ago, he’d often asked her opinion on coven issues, and she’d relied on him to bounce ideas around when she needed clarity.
“Did you feel any other disturbances last night?” he asked, steering the conversation back to business.
“Nope,” she replied quickly, keeping her voice steady. She didn’t dare admit that she’d been far too distracted by him—and what they’d done—to notice anything in the sphaera.
Marcus glanced sideways at her, his tone taking on a teasing edge. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have noticed if an ogre had come into your domain last night.”