Page 3 of Sorcia's Heart
White-hot anger ignited inside her, boiling in her chest like molten lava ready to erupt.Marcus Tinsley had always known exactly how to touch her—how to speak in that maddening, velvety tone that unraveled her every defense.Both in bed and out of it.The man...she hated him.Absolutely hated him.
“Get out,” she said, her voice trembling with tightly leashed fury.
Did he listen?Of course not.Marcus Tinsley had never been the kind of man to take orders, especially not from her.Instead, he sprawled lazily on her pristine white sofa, his tailored suit jacket flung over the back of a cushion as if he owned the place.He loosened his tie with deliberate nonchalance, his fingers unbuttoning the top of his shirt collar, revealing just a hint of tanned skin.
“Nice slippers,” he said, his deep voice dripping with amusement, his sharp blue eyes glinting as they swept over her from head to toe.“They scream ‘powerful witch.’Very intimidating.”
Sorcia’s fists clenched tighter, her nails digging into her palms.“Don’t you dare mock my slippers.At least they’re practical.Unlike that ridiculous silk tie, which probably costs more than most people’s rent.”
Marcus smirked, leaning back further into the cushions, completely at ease.“It’s Italian, if you’re wondering.But I wouldn’t expect someone in fuzzy, rabbit-shaped footwear to appreciate the finer things.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.“They’recats, you pompous ass.”
He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly sexy.“Ah, of course.My mistake.Cats.Very ferocious.”
“You’re about to see just how ferocious,” she snapped, lifting a hand and summoning a crackle of magic between her fingers.“Now, for the last time,get out.”
But Marcus simply stretched an arm along the back of the sofa, completely unfazed by the threat.“Aren’t you even curious why I’m here?”he asked, his voice as smooth as aged whiskey.
“No,” she spat, though her body betrayed her with its treacherous reaction to his presence—her pulse racing, her skin tingling under the weight of his gaze.She hated how vividly she remembered every detail about him: the faint scar near his jawline, the way his hair always seemed perfectly tousled, the subtle scent of cedar and spice that clung to him.It was maddening.
“Liar,” he said, the smirk deepening as his eyes roamed over her face, reading every flicker of her expression.“You’ve always been terrible at hiding your curiosity.”
Her hands twitched, ready to hurl him out the window with a flick of her magic, but before she could, he spoke again.
“You’re in trouble.”His voice had dropped, the teasing edge replaced with something harder, more urgent.
The words hit her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs.For a moment, she faltered, the weight of his statement cutting through her anger and leaving only raw, unsettling tension.
But she refused to let him see that.Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow.“The only trouble I see is you ruining my sofa.Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean arrogance out of upholstery?”
He laughed again, low and rumbling, and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his gaze locked with hers.“Sorcia, you can glare at me all you want.But we both know you’re going to hear me out.”
The worst part?He was right.And that made her hate him even more.Or at least, that’s what she told herself.
Sorcia’s hands slowly lowered to her sides, her mind reeling.Marcus might be a cheater, she thought, trying to process the storm of emotions and sensations swirling around her, but he’d never lied to her.Except for that one time.
“I didn’t lie to you, Sorcia,” he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration as he pushed off the sofa and stood.“And I sure as hell didn’t cheat on you!”
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, frozen in place.The anger in his voice was unmistakable, but it wasn’t what unsettled her the most.It was the undercurrent of something darker—an inexplicable tension that vibrated in the air between them.It crawled beneath her skin, a sinister force whispering at the edge of her awareness.And then she saw it in his eyes: Marcus felt it too.
The room felt alive, charged with something malevolent and unseen, a silent predator lurking in the shadows.The temperature seemed to drop, the air thickening around them as if the space itself was closing in.Sorcia’s heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears.Whatever it was, it wasn’t just anger or the residue of their unresolved past—it was something far more dangerous.
Marcus’s sharp gaze darted around the room, scanning every corner, every shadow.Their eyes locked, and in an instant, they both raised their hands to their chests.Sorcia whispered her spell, her voice low and urgent, while Marcus uttered his incantation in perfect unison.Their combined magic surged into the space, a crackling wave of power that lit the room in brief flashes of iridescent light.
Younger witches might not have noticed the change, the faint ripple in the atmosphere that signaled another presence.But Sorcia and Marcus were ancient by witch standards, their senses honed over centuries.At nearly four hundred years old, she was the High Priestess of her coven, her power a force to be reckoned with.And Marcus, having reached five hundred years, was no less formidable.Together, they wielded an unmatched strength that should have been enough to unmask any intruder.
Yet the loft resisted them.
The magic swirled and crackled, filling the space with shimmering sparks that hung in the air like fireflies before dissipating into nothingness.The room remained oppressively silent, the spell refusing to give them what they sought.Sorcia’s frustration mounted as her senses strained to pierce the veil of secrecy, searching behind furniture, into shadows, and beyond the physical plane itself.
Nothing.No one.Just the heavy, oppressive stillness of the loft, taunting them.
Sorcia lowered her hands reluctantly, her eyes still scanning the room.She could feel Marcus’s energy beside her, his tension matching her own.They exchanged a wary glance, neither willing to break the silence first.Finally, Marcus spoke, his voice low and gravelly.“He’s gone.”
She nodded slowly, though unease coiled in her stomach.“For now,” she murmured, the words barely audible.
In a weary, tired voice, Sorcia turned away from the man who had betrayed her so deeply many years ago.“You can go now.”
