A estupidez

A estupidez
James

I couldn’t let her walk away, not after everything she’d said, her voice trembling with hurt and resolve. As she brushed past me toward the door, something snapped. I grabbed her arm, spinning her back, and pushed her against the wall, my body pressing into hers. I needed to feel her again.
Her curves fit mine, the way they always had, like she was made for me. Her scent flooded me, and I buried my face in her neck, breathing her in. I kissed her hard, tasting her, wanting to erase every inch of distance between us, to hear her moan my name like she used to.
She resisted at first, furious, her hands shoving at my chest, but then she gave in, her body softening against mine, and it was like coming home.

I held her face with both hands, swallowing her in a kiss that poured out everything I’d held back, the agony of feeling her with someone else for a week straight. If she could imagine what I’d gone through, the hell of it, she’d know why I needed her now. She kissed me back, fierce and desperate, and it was heaven after the torment.
I ripped her clothes off, driven by a primal urge to claim her, to wipe away the touch of whoever had dared come near her. I didn’t want to know who it was, didn’t want a name to haunt me. I carried her to the bed, my hands trembling as I stripped down, needing to be inside her, to make her mine again.

But it went wrong. Two minutes, maybe less, and I was done, my body betraying me before I could even begin to give her what we both needed. I froze, panting, the shame crashing over me like a wave, and then I heard it.
Doft, broken sobs. She was crying. I pulled back instantly, my hands dropping from her, panic surging.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, I… I…” she started, her words choking off, tears streaking her face as she curled away from me.

“Maybe you don’t want me anymore,” I said, the fear clawing up my throat, bitter and sharp.

“James, it’s not that,” she whispered, shaking her head, her black hair spilling over the pillow.

“Fuck, Vicky,” I snapped, frustration boiling over. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice fracturing. “I suffered so much with you, without you—I don’t know anymore. I need some time. I’m confused. All of this still hurts. You can’t think you’d come here, kiss me, and everything would be the same as before…”

“Do you want to talk about pain?” I shot back, my voice rising, jagged with the wounds she couldn’t see. “I’ll show you what it’s like to betray a partner. One day, we’ll talk about it.”
I rolled off the bed, grabbing my clothes. I couldn’t force this, couldn’t make her want me when I could see it in her eyes. Was our love so fragile that two weeks could ruin us?

I stormed out, the door slamming behind me, her sobs echoing in my head. I couldn’t stay, couldn’t face the rejection in her tears. My feet carried me straight to the bar downstairs, the dim lights and stale air a refuge from the wreckage I’d left behind. I ordered whiskey, half a bottle, and drank it fast, the burn searing down my throat, numbing the edges of my pain. She’d been with someone else and now she couldn’t even let me fix it. I slammed the glass down, my vision blurring, and beckoned the waiter over.
“Where can I find a sex worker?”
He showed me a place.

...

Marcelo
I’d been waiting in room 307, leaning against the window frame, my staff resting beside me as I watched the night deepen over Satu Mare. The faint hum of magic in my blood kept me alert, attuned to the hotel’s pulse.
Then the door burst open, and she stumbled in, collapsing against me. I caught her gently, my hands steadying her shoulders, and the sight of tears streaking her face stirred something in my chest, a complex ache I hadn’t felt in years.
Her black hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, and her look was so broken that it caught me off guard.

“Entre, mon âme sœur,” I said softly, guiding her inside. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, brushing at her tears.

“Nothing causes so much sadness,” I replied, steering her toward a chair. “Sit here.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, sinking into it, her hands trembling slightly. “Can you give me some water, please?”

I nodded, fetching a glass from the small table, my gaze flickering over her as I handed it over. She was fragile and it infuriated me. What had that idiot companion of hers done?
She was a princess, my step-sister, half-witch by blood, and she deserved better than to be treated like some discarded thing. I watched her sip the water, her green eyes red-rimmed, and felt a surge of protectiveness I hadn’t expected.

“Well, we can talk later,” I said, softening my tone. “Can I help you in any way?”
She looked up at me then, her gaze wide and childlike, raw with vulnerability, and something in me shifted. I stepped closer, pulling her into a brief, impulsive hug before sitting her beside me on the edge of the bed.
“Better?”

“Thank you, sorry,” she said, wiping her face again, her voice steadier now. “What do you want from me?”

“That depends on you,” I replied, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “We can have a good friendship, or we can be mortal enemies.”

“I’m not joking, Marcelo,” she snapped, her fire flaring through the tears. “You must have noticed. Give me clear and objective answers. Who are you?”

I leaned back, meeting her intensity with calm certainty. “Marcelo, son of Queen Narttyri, prince of witches.”

“Goddess!” she gasped, her eyes widening in shock. “Is that true? You tricked me…” She bolted up, heading for the door, but I flicked my wrist, a pulse of magic sealing it shut with a soft click.

“Sit down,” I said, my voice firm but not harsh. “You won’t be able to get out.”

“What do you want from me?” she demanded, turning back, her hands clenched into fists.

“The truth,” I said simply, my purple eyes locking onto hers, searching.

“Ask whatever you want,” she shot back, her voice rising, defiant even in her fragility. “Get inside my head if you want. I have no interest in your kingdom. I never wanted to be the daughter of who I am, much less the death of your mother. And I’m sorry for that. I’m not afraid of the truth. I have no powers, Marcelo. I only have part of his blood, and it wasn’t my choice. I’m barely a wolf. I was recently transformed. I do a lot of wrong things because of it, but I don’t want anything from this stupid war. I just want to go home. I just came to get my mate and…”

“You ended up being the lover of the prince of darkness,” I finished for her, a wry edge to my tone. “Oh, yes, is that the crisis in your marriage, my dear?”

“In part,” she admitted, her jaw tightening, “but it didn’t start with that. Don’t judge me. You don’t know what I’ve been through. What my life was like with you wizards killing my mother, wanting to kill me since I was born, vampires watching me since I was a child…”

I held up a hand, my expression softening despite myself. “We have plenty of time for you to tell me everything,” I said, leaning forward, my staff glowing faintly beside me. “Why don’t you let me decide whether or not I trust you?”

Vicky

I sat there, Marcelo’s purple eyes fixed on me, and I knew I couldn’t leave without giving him something. He wanted the truth, and I didn’t have the energy to fight him. So I gave him the pieces he hadn’t already dug up, the parts of my life he couldn’t have gleaned from whatever investigation he’d done. My voice was flat, recounting it.
Jean’s abandonment, my mother’s death at the witches’ hands, the transformation into a wolf, the dungeon, and Ian Dimitri.
He listened, his handsome face unreadable, though a faint smile played at his lips when I finished.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” he said, leaning back. “How the Moon Goddess seems to know how to balance the game.”

“I don’t know,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “What are you thinking?”

“When your father believes he has you saved for him, James appears,” he mused. “When Wladimir thinks he controls you, Dimitri appears. And now, you’re with me.”

“I am?” I frowned, unease prickling my skin. “What do you mean? I’m your prisoner?”

“Shall we use the term protected?” he offered, his tone light but firm. “I’d be a prisoner if I hadn’t believed you.”

Before I could respond, a sharp pain sliced through me—like a blade twisting in my chest, stealing my breath. I gasped, collapsing to my knees, my hands clutching at my heart as my body trembled uncontrollably.
Marcelo was at my side in an instant, put a hand on my shoulder. “Âme, what is it? What are you feeling?”

“The bond,” I choked out, tears spilling over. “James—he’s betraying me.”
The agony was unmistakable, a searing echo of what he’d felt with me and Dimitri, now reversed. He was with someone else, and it was ripping me apart.

“He cheated on you?” Marcelo’s voice hardened. “How could he? After everything… I’ll send someone to bring him here.”

“No,” I sobbed, shaking my head. “Please. He just got back at me.”
Tit for tat, and it was killing us both.

“Âme,” Marcelo said, kneeling beside me, his hands gentle on my shoulders, “you two need to stop destroying each other like this. This is not a healthy love.”

“Oh, Marcelo,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face, “I just wish I could go back in time. We were so happy. Everything was so simple. He was my family. My father even took that from me. What’s the point of saving me from my grandmother and ruining my life? What kind of love is this?”

“Love?” Marcelo’s tone sharpened, a bitter edge creeping in. “No, no, Âme, you don’t know your father. Have you never questioned why, as the daughter of a pure wizard, you have no power at all?”

I stared at him, my mind reeling, the pain in my chest pulsing with every heartbeat. “I don’t understand any of this,” I murmured, dizziness sweeping over me. “Can I lie down for a bit? Can I go to my room, please?”
I needed escape, a moment to breathe, to process.

“Âme,” he said, his voice softening but resolute, “I’m going to ask for your things to be brought here. I can’t let you leave. We’re investigating my mother’s death. I’m your best shield and alibi. Without me, you could get into big trouble. Do you understand?”

I tried to nod, to answer, but the pain surged again, a white-hot stab that blurred my vision. My knees buckled, my body gave out, and I collapsed, darkness swallowing me whole. Marcelo’s voice faded, Veny’s howl a distant echo in my mind, and I passed out.