Page 4 of Sorcia's Heart
Marcus chuckled, a mischievous glint lighting his impossibly blue eyes.“Go?And deprive you of what’s about to be the highlight of your day?Never.”With a snap of his fingers, a linen-covered table materialized between them, complete with flickering candles and polished silverware.
Then, there it was: the pièce de résistance.A steaming dish of lasagna sat at the center, its golden, bubbling cheese glistening under the soft candlelight.The layers of pasta, rich tomato sauce, and a hint of pesto filled the air with a heavenly aroma.Sorcia’s knees wobbled at the sight—and then her gaze landed on the basket of perfectly toasted garlic bread.
“Damn you,” she muttered under her breath.
“Come now, I’m just here to provide for your basic needs,” he said, all mock innocence.Another snap of his fingers, and two plush, velvet chairs appeared, their deep red upholstery complementing the romantic glow of the candles.
“I hate you,” Sorcia grumbled, sinking into the chair despite herself, her body betraying her hunger.
“No, you hate how much you love lasagna,” Marcus corrected, taking the seat opposite her.He leaned forward, expertly slicing into the lasagna with the silver spatula.The cheese clung stubbornly, and he spun the spatula several times before it broke free with a satisfying pull.“And carbs.You’ve always been a sucker for carbs.Admit it.”
Sorcia rolled her eyes, taking the plate he handed her.“Carbs are the beautiful but I don’t always have time to work out.Unlike someone who probably thinks smashing into people on a rugby field is a good substitute for therapy.”
Marcus smirked as he served himself a massive portion of lasagna.“Careful, sweetheart.Those games are why I can still handle anything—or anyone—that comes my way.Including you.”
She snorted, grabbing another piece of garlic bread.“Handle me?The only thing you’ve ever managed to handle is a ball, and even then, I’m sure you dropped it half the time.”
He leaned back with a confident grin, his eyes glinting with amusement.“You keep telling yourself that, Sorcia.But deep down, we both know you’ve always appreciated my moves—on and off the field.”
Sorcia didn’t react, reaching for the garlic bread.“Please.The only thing I’ve ever appreciated about you is when youstop talking.”
She took a deliberate bite of the bread, the satisfying crunch and the buttery, garlicky flavor momentarily dulling her irritation.She closed her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh of pleasure.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to see Marcus smirking at her.“Resistible,” she said finally, her voice muffled by another bite and she looked down at her plate.“Very resistible.”
Marcus leaned forward, his smirk deepening.“Resistible, huh?Is that what you told yourself the night you dragged me into your coven’s sacred garden and kissed me like your life depended on it?”
Sorcia’s eyes snapped back up, locking onto his with a flash of indignation.Her glare was sharp, but the faint blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.For a moment, her lips parted as if to argue further, but the memory slipped in unbidden—his hands gripping her waist, his breath hot against her neck, the heady rush of desire that had consumed them both.
Her glare wavered, her eyes softening as the past tugged at the corners of her mind.A flicker of something unreadable passed over her face—nostalgia, longing, maybe even regret.But just as quickly, her expression hardened.Her jaw set, and her mouth pressed into a firm line, her chin tilting up defiantly as if to shield herself from the vulnerability that threatened to surface.
“I did not drag you,” she said firmly, her voice sharp with deflection.“You followed me like a lost puppy.”
“A lost puppy?”Marcus laughed, his voice rich and teasing.“Sweetheart, I let you think you were leading.But let’s not forget who pinned who against that ancient oak tree.”
Sorcia scoffed, but the memory hit her like a tidal wave.His hands, rough yet careful, sliding along her waist, his lips capturing hers with a ferocity that stole her breath.She shoved the thought aside, stabbing her fork into the lasagna with more force than necessary.“You’re delusional.”
He leaned back, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.“Delusional?That’s funny, considering how often you whispered my name that night.”
Sorcia’s jaw tightened, though her pulse betrayed her, quickening at his words.“I seem to recall you were the one begging,” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended.
Marcus laughed, low and full of confidence.“I wasn’t asking.I was giving orders with charm.You just didn’t realize it at the time because you were too into the moment.”
She groaned, tossing her fork onto her plate and crossing her arms.“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the candlelit table between them.“Sharing lasagna, garlic bread, and our charming history.Admit it, Sorcia, you’ve missed me.”
She narrowed her eyes.“I’ve missed carbs.Don’t flatter yourself.”
Marcus chuckled, his voice dropping an octave, his tone softer but no less teasing.“Carbs didn’t make you shiver under the stars.Carbs didn’t make you laugh until you cried.And carbs definitely didn’t make you—”
“Don’t,” Sorcia cut him off, her voice trembling just slightly.
The air between them shifted, the teasing giving way to something heavier, more charged.For a moment, neither spoke, the silence filled only with the crackle of the candlelight and the faint clink of silverware.
“I’ll stop.For the moment,” Marcus said finally, his voice softening, the teasing edge giving way to something more sincere.His sharp blue eyes lingered on hers, catching the flicker of vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.The sight of it tugged at something deep inside him, stirring that unyielding need to protect her.“But you can’t deny it.Not entirely.”
Sorcia looked away, focusing on her plate, her heart pounding in her chest.Damn him for being right.Damn him for knowing her so well.
