Chapter Twenty-Three
The chanting in the living room carried through the open window to where Soph sat on the back patio, watching fireflies blink across the dark garden.
Nona has summoned her entire coven and now fifteen-odd women were gathered inside, casting Founders-knows-what sort of spells.
If Soph found other covens cliquey and difficult to join, then Nona’s was the epitome of that. She didn’t allow anyone to sit in on her coven’s spell casting, not even her own family members. For all her insistence that Soph join a coven, Nona had never invited her into her own inner circle.
Tonight, though, Soph didn’t mind. The cool night air and dark garden helped ease the gnawing anxiety still rumbling in her chest from the altercation between her mother and grandmother earlier that day.
It was a familiar pain, one that had clung to her throughout her entire life and was exacerbated when those two women were in a room together. Soph had always considered their fighting to be her fault. Even at a young age, she recalled the accusations the women levelled at each other.
Nona hated Zita’s life choices.
Zita hated how stiflingly unaccepting Nona was.
Nona hated that Zita refused to marry and settle down.
Zita hated the way Nona raised Soph, even though she routinely vanished from the family home herself.
Nona hated every. Single. Man Zita brought home.
And heaven forbid Soph show any traits her mother possessed.
“Hey there.”
Soph startled from her dark musings and looked up to find Marco offering a beer to her.
“Thanks.” She accepted the bottle and twisted the cap off as Marco took a seat beside her on the settee, letting out a low sigh. Soph sipped the beer, then held it up to look at the label.
“It’s an indie beer,” he told her. “I got it from a local brewery.”
“Let me guess.” She smirked. “One of your clients.”
He laughed, the sound curling around her and quieting her anxiety. “How did you guess?”
She took another drink and leaned forward, elbows on knees and eyes on the garden. “Because you’re exactly the type to frequent a backyard brewery, then somehow talk the brewer into signing up with you. I bet you even offered him a deal and called it a passion project.”
His laugh deepened, head tipping back and curly hair falling away from his face. “You know me too well.”
Soph smiled as his mirth eased away. The two of them stared out into the dark, though Soph could feel when he slid his arm along the back of the settee. Her heart thumped unevenly, and Eli popped into her mind.
He was often intruding on her thoughts, and she spent just as much time trying to squash them. He’d be in France again by now. Though he’d told her to text, it was the ‘if you need anything’ part of his offer that always stopped her. Would it be weird to text and just say hi? He hadn’t reached out to her at all, either.
And that was the thing, she supposed. Between their trysts, they’d never attempted to communicate with each other. Beyond the sex and the safeguarding of each other from paranormal enemies, there had just been silence.
And that had been fine. Casual was fine. She liked casual.
Until she recalled how vehemently Nona hated Zita’s casual relationships. How her mother was the family outcast. How it made her feel when Nona compared her to her mother. How after her addiction to vampire blood had brought her so close to death, followed by Nona’s fall because she hadn’t been checking in on her grandmother…
The strings Eli had woven around her heart had to be cut. Even if she wanted something more than casual with him - even if he was open to that, which she didn’t think a billionaire vampire would be - Nona would know what he was immediately.
Hell, her amulet had flared when her mother’s beach bum boyfriend had walked in the door. Soph could only imagine the heart attack the old woman would have if she brought a vampire home. And one that was routinely hunted by black witches, she might add.
So while her heart still keened a little for Eli, she couldn’t take it any further.
“Everything okay?” Marco drew her back from her musing once more.
“Yeah, just thinking about… Family stuff.”
“I heard your mother came back today.”
Soph’s head dropped in defeat. Nothing ever stayed secret in this community. “She’s back. She fought with Nona, predictably. Now she and her boyfriend are staying at my apartment and I’m… living here, I guess until they decide to move onto wherever the wind takes them or until someone else agrees to live with Nona to care for her.”
“Tough spot you’ve got yourself in. But you’re a Wickham’s girl, so I don’t doubt you’ll make it through.”
Soph exhaled a huff of laughter, and he added, “If you ever need a break, though, just let me know. I could come and hang out, or drop my mother off and take you out for dinner.”
He shrugged, and even in the dark, she could feel his nervousness. She offered a smile. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
A bare heartbeat passed before he leaned in and kissed her. It was sweet, his lips soft, hesitant, but Soph froze.
He pulled away quickly. “I’m sorry, I -”
“No, no,” the memory of her last kiss resurfaced. That earth-shattering, axis-tilting, world-shifting kiss. She shoved the memory into the deepest recesses of her mind. “I just wasn’t ready. Try again.”
And so Marco kissed her again, and this time she let him.
* * *
Soph renewed her dating of Marco with an enthusiastic fervour. Sure, sometimes she worried that her enthusiasm was an overcompensation, but having Marco around was a pleasant distraction and it made Nona happy. So happy that even her arguments with Zita were reduced to more of a simmer.
Weeks passed, and Soph was still living with Nona.
While Luie and Stefan had returned from their holiday, Zita was still taking up residence in the city apartment and so to keep things smooth sailing, Soph stayed put.
Marco came by weekly to hang out with her on coven nights, and now and then, he’d drop Maria in to keep Nona company while he whisked her away to some eclectic European restaurant. And when they weren’t doing that, they were texting each other near constantly, like teenagers.
Four weeks after Nona’s fall, Zita dropped by with some fresh produce and a grocery-list worth of witchy things like crystals, powders, smudge sticks and other ingredients. She had Dante with her and though he remained in the car, his presence in the street was enough to send Nona into a fit of rage.
While the two women argued bitterly, bringing up every apparent grievance of the last thirty years, Soph escaped to the yard, phone in hand.
- Help! The witches are fighting again. Rescue me?
Marco was quick to text back.
- Absolutely! Dinner at my place tonight? I’ll pick you up in an hour.
Several hours later, she was sitting on a barstool in Marco’s Braxton townhouse kitchen, the mouth-watering scent of pizza filling the room.
“I can’t believe you made this garlic bread yourself,” Soph groaned, taking another bite of the cheesy goodness. “It’s amazing.”
Marco smiled at her from across the island counter, where he poured them both another glass of red wine. “Consider it my speciality,” he informed her. He came around the island and hopped on the stool beside her, handing her a glass. On the countertop between them was a pair of used plates and three slices of leftover pizza.
“Thanks for saving me today,” Soph said, and not for the first time since Marco had picked her up. She raised her glass in a salute to him then took a sip.
“Have they always fought like this?” Marco queried. He placed his hand over hers where it rested on the countertop, and his fingers drew smooth lines over hers.
“Not always.” Soph waved dismissively with her wineglass, almost spilling the red liquid over the rim. “It’s a constant state of bickering, usually culminating in a big blowout. Nona cannot stand the revolving door of boyfriends and I’m pretty sure Mum just keeps them around to irk Nona.” She shrugged, pushing away the anxious tension knotting in her stomach at the thought of having to go back. Marco laughed sympathetically.
“You’re welcome to stay here tonight if you like. Face the fire tomorrow.” He set his glass down and leaned forward to kiss her. She could taste wine, and the pepperoni from the pizza on his lips and she raised her hand to catch the front of his shirt, pulling him forward off his stool and between her legs. With her consent, his kiss deepened and his arms came around her, lifting her shirt to touch the skin of her back. Her legs tightening around his waist made him groan against her lips before breaking the kiss, only to pull her shirt over her head.
They remained poised in this position for only a few moments. Then Marco broke free of her hold, pulled her from the stool and over to his grey suede lounge. He sat back on it first - pulling his shirt off as he did - and Soph straddled him, kissing him again as she worked on his belt buckle.
And as she kissed him, she desperately willed a fire to ignite in her belly. She was turned on, and she was horny, but that terrible, beautiful, needy ache was absent. For the life of her, she couldn’t work out what the problem was. Marco was hot, and he was kind and thoughtful and attentive, but the hand palming her breast wasn’t quite firm enough and he hesitated now and then, letting her catch the lead.
It will take time, she told herself firmly, pulling his belt free. The brief fantasy of having him snatch it and wrap it around her wrists flashed through her mind, but the belt dropped to the ground as he grasped her ass, grinding her against his length. He’s just unfamiliar. It will take time.
“So I guess you’re staying?” Marco gasped, pushing her off so he could shimmy out of his pants. Soph did the same.
“I guess I am.”
Sliding back into his lap, she groaned as skin met skin and dragged his bottom lip between her teeth. He hissed lightly.
“Feisty,” he murmured, then grasped her shoulders, applying pressure. “Will you suck it?”
Will you suck it?
Soph managed to contain her grimace at the words. They’d work on the dirty talk. Next time, she’d give him feedback. Fixing a sultry gaze on her face instead, she slid down between his knees and swirled her tongue over the head of his twitching cock.
He let out a low, guttural groan, head flopping back against the lounge as Soph took him deeper into her mouth. Her own head bobbed as she sucked him off, watching from the corner of her eye the way his fingers clenched in the folds of the throw rug he was seated on. She wished they were in her hair.
As his body began to seize, she pulled away, climbing back into his lap. “Are you on the pill?” He gripped her ass, positioning her over himself.
Birth control. Fuck.
She reacted to most options available to women and so she hadn’t been on it for years, instead using condoms with partners. Except one.
And while the thought of cum dripping down her thighs turned her on so wildly she could nearly orgasm from the thought alone, Marco was human and would undoubtedly get her pregnant.
That was a complication she was absolutely not ready for.
“No,” she said huskily, sliding back off his lap. “Do you have -”
He rose, tugging her by the hand. “I’ve got a johnny in my room.”
They plunged into his dark bedroom and Soph watched him rifle through the bedroom drawer, followed by the crinkle of plastic and a wet squirting sound.
Lube.
He turned to her, cock wrapped and sheening with gel, and she closed the gap between them, reaching up to kiss him. At the last moment, he tipped his head to the side, spurning her lips with a guilty smile. “I don’t like kissing after oral.”
“Oh, right.”
“Come here, beautiful.” He laid her out on the bed and positioned himself above her. With a bit of fumbling, he pressed the head of his cock to her entrance, penetrating with small thrusts until the lube coated her walls and aided the discomfort of not being turned on enough.
Once he set a steady pace, the fire finally kindled in her belly and she lifted her hips to his to find the friction she needed. Then his position shifted slightly, and she had to shift too, resetting her quest for an orgasm.
“Have you come?” He breathed in her ear.
“Not - Let’s - Let’s try something else.”
Together they flipped until Soph was on top and riding him.
“Yes,” he hissed, loosely grasping her hips. Soph closed her eyes and thought of Eli.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She shouldn’t be thinking of him right now. She should be thinking of Marco.
But once Eli had penetrated her thoughts, he wouldn’t leave, and so in her head, she imagined him fucking her stupid.
She eventually came, the release a welcome relief after grinding so hard for it. Marco pumped below her and with a strangled gasp, he found his release too.
“Founders, Soph,” Marco groaned as she rolled to his side, completely sweat sheened. She listened to the pull and snap of rubber as he tugged the condom off, tied and tossed it aside. “That was amazing. I didn’t know you were so wild.”
Wondering briefly what the wild part was, she snuggled into his side as their heavy panting subsided. As they drifted off to sleep, a small mantra played over in her head.
It will take time.
We just need to learn each other.
It will get better.