Love in Analysis

**Marcelo**

Watching Diana’s pain was like staring into a storm I couldn’t calm. I believed she loved James and that he loved her in return, his devotion etched in every overprotective glance. But their bond felt like a tether to her past, a knot of unresolved wounds.

She was a younger woman, barely out of girlhood when they’d met, and I couldn’t shake the thought that she’d projected her father’s absence onto James, seeking in him the love she’d never known.

And James? He was a werewolf, possessive by nature, his instincts honed to guard what was his. But there was something more in the way he clung to her, a fear, as if he’d lost someone before and couldn’t bear to lose her too.

Had he? I didn’t know.

I knelt beside her still, and considered my words carefully. She deserved honesty, even if it cut.

“Do you prefer the truth,” I began, my voice steady but gentle, “even with all your childhood traumas? I think that sometimes James ends up hiding things from you to protect you. He takes care of you like a father, not like a partner. And he does that because you project onto him the lack of your father figure. Maybe you even fell in love with him because you identify with that.”

She lifted her head, her dark eyes narrowing as she processed my words. “Are you a psychologist now?” she asked, her tone sharp but tinged with curiosity. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it that way.”

“Love, I’ve studied a lot of things,” I said, letting a playful edge creep into my voice, “especially about love. Many of us witches are polygamous, always have been.”

Her brow furrowed. “I think witches are pretty advanced.Have you ever truly loved someone?”

I smiled, tilting my head as memories surfaced—faces, moments, connections that had shaped me. “On the contrary,” I said, “in the past, polygamy was natural. Loving a woman or a man or both… it was just life. And yes, I’ve loved some people.”

Her eyes widened slightly, surprise mingling with her curiosity. “Men too?”

“People, Ame,” I corrected gently, emphasizing the word. “No matter the gender. There are physical loves, platonic loves, even spiritual loves, each one its own kind of magic.”

“How does that work?”

I shifted closer and let my voice soften, as if sharing a secret. “My coven, for example. I love all twelve members now, including you. You’re my Ame because you have an affinity with my soul. This connection we have means you belong to my coven. We’re soul siblings, Vicky. We’ll love each other soon, I can feel it. And perhaps, one day, we’ll share moments, who knows? The future’s unwritten.”

She stiffened. “Well, I’m married. I mean, I was. But I don’t see myself with anyone else…”

“And yet, Dimitri…”

“It was a unique situation,” she said defensively. “I think… it was a trade-off. The price I paid to come to Romania safely, because I felt I had to be here and help James.”

“And it did, didn’t it?” I said, my tone softening as I saw the guilt flicker across her face. “Maybe if I had believed they murdered my mother, they wouldn’t even be here anymore.”

Her eyes snapped back to mine, wide and glistening. “But I feel so guilty about everything…”

I reached out, resting a hand on her arm, my touch light but firm. “Get rid of that feeling of guilt, Ame. Everything that has to happen, just happens. What has to go will go, and what has to be yours will find a way to you. Just don’t do harm to those who don’t deserve it—it’ll come back to you.”

She studied me, her expression softening as she absorbed my words. “You have such a free way of seeing life, Marcelo,” she said, almost wistfully.

I grinned. “I live what I feel and what I believe. I’m authentic. For example…” I paused, letting my gaze settle on her, playful but sincere. “Right now, I want to kiss you. But I won’t do it until you want to give me a kiss—a kiss of energy exchange, a kiss of affection, a kiss of brotherly love, or a kiss of Eros. But we can start like this.”

Before she could react, I leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to her lips.

Just a brush, light as a breeze. Her eyes widened, her cheeks blooming with color, and I laughed. She swatted at my arm, half-embarrassed, half-amused.

Fascinating, I thought, watching her try to hide her smile. Jean’s daughter, my step-sister, my Ame—Diana, Vicky, whatever name she chose.

…

**Vicky**

Marcelo, my step-brother, had unsettling purple eyes that seemed to see straight through me. His words stirred a whirlwind of confusion in my chest. The ideas he shared about love, about covens, about a life unbound by the rules I’d known felt alien, like a half-remembered dream. If I ever chose to embrace my own latent power, to step into the world of witches and learn their ways, I knew I’d seek him out.

Marcelo would be my guide. But right now, my skin itched with restlessness, the walls of this dimly lit room closing in like a cage. I needed to move, to breathe, to feel the ground beneath my feet. I needed to run.

“I need to run,” I said, the words spilling out as I stood and paced the creaking floorboards. “Like a wolf. I’m tired of being trapped here.”

He looked up from where he sat, his expression softening as he rose to meet me. Before I could pull away, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my hair. “Oh, dear. Forgive me. We’re in a magic circle here. It’s safe. But soon we’ll take action, and you’ll be able to leave.”

“What kind of action?” I asked, searching his face. Those violet eyes held a glint of something fierce, something I hadn’t seen in him before.

He stepped back, his hands clasping behind him as if to steady himself. “We’ll arrest, or at least confront, Jean and Ian Wladimir about my mother’s death,” he said, his tone measured but laced with resolve. “The murder of a legitimate ruler doesn’t go unpunished.”

My breath caught. Jean, my father, though the word felt wrong on my tongue, had always been a distant, looming figure, a shadow I’d never fully understood.

“If you prove that Jean was involved,” I said slowly, testing the question, “will he lose the throne?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “And I can kill him too.”

“So, you’ll be the king?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The thought of Marcelo ruling a kingdom felt both absurd and inevitable.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have no blood brothers. Although, I’ve never sought power, and I’m in no hurry to exercise my rightful place. It’s my duty to prevent my people from killing each other fighting for candidates to the throne.”

The world of witches Marcelo had unveiled was a labyrinth I couldn’t yet navigate, its mysteries shimmering just beyond my reach. Maybe one day I’d dive into it, learn its secrets, and claim the part of myself that felt drawn to its magic. But for now, my head was already swimming with revelations.

Too much to process when my heart was so heavy.

I’d grown up human, until the bite that transformed me into a wolf shattered everything I thought I knew. That shift had brought Veny into my life.

Lately, though, I’d been distant, out of sync with her.

I closed my eyes, pressing my palms against my thighs, and thought of Veny. I wanted to feel her again, to hear the quiet pulse of her instincts in my mind. She’d tried to guide me so many times, but I’d ignored her, too caught up in my own chaos. If I’d listened, maybe I could’ve avoided some of the mess I'm in now.

The guilt gnawed at me. We hadn’t been born together, not like true wolves; our bond was fragile and hard-won.

Somewhere along the way, I’d pushed her away, too stubborn or too scared to seek her counsel. That was my mistake, and I needed to fix it. I needed to make peace with her.

Drawing a slow breath, I turned inward, searching for her in the quiet corners of my mind. It was like reaching into a fog. But then I felt her. She was there, almost asleep, curled up in some distant part of me.

“Veny,” I whispered silently. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so stupid. I pushed you away, didn’t trust you when I should’ve. I’ll never leave you again. I miss you. I need you.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a pulse of energy like a distant howl echoing in my bones. She was waking, drawing closer, but she wasn’t ready to speak. I’d hurt her, and she needed time. I’d give her that, as much as she needed, until her voice returned to me.

The ache in my chest didn’t ease, though. It spread, tangling with thoughts of Tunder. I felt like I’d failed him.

In the blur of Romania’s dangers, I’d let that connection slip. I missed him, missed the way his quiet strength grounded me.

I’d make it right with him too, somehow.

Needing something to do.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table. My fingers moved almost on instinct, typing a message to Dario: Please let me know the second James arrives. Take care of everyone. You’re all brave warriors out there.

I hit send, my lips pressing into a thin line as I pictured them fighting their own battles while I was stuck here, waiting. They deserved better than my absence.

Marcelo gave me a kiss and left. When night fell, the room grew colder, the single window rattling softly in its frame as the wind picked up outside.

I pulled the thin blanket tighter around my shoulders, but it did little to ease the weight settling over my heart.

Was it fear for myself, trapped in this magic circle with enemies closing in? Worry for James, out there somewhere? Or was it something else I couldn’t name? I couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty gnawed at me, sharp as a blade.

Restless, I picked up my phone again to check for messages, my thumb hovering over the screen. The notification blinked, and I opened it, expecting a quick update from Dario or maybe a check-in from someone else.

But as my eyes scanned the words, my breath caught, my heart lurching in my chest. I read it again, then a third time, disbelief crashing over me like a wave.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Valeska:

Dimitri is dead.