Chapitre 264: 23. I don't Wanna Miss A Thing.
I never thought our lives could be so perfect. We fought a little, at least not all the time. Some of our fights were about dogs. We had fought now and then, but that was as normal as it could be. We were both passionate about our judging, and I, too, was confident and proud of my choices and didn't appreciate being judged.
As an example, Damon would have been at one show I judged. We sometimes went to each other's shows. Again, it gave us a new perspective. We saw the dogs from a different angle, and that also helped us become better judges. But my perceptive husband didn't spare his opinion.
I could hear at the end of the night how I picked the wrong dog. He had as many arguments as could be, and the group rings were the kind where our differences of opinion came to the fore. Or even the best in show choice. I was in that business twice, too. I tried not to freak out completely, but now and then, I would boil over.
We might yell at each other all the way when usually one was picking up the other, or sometimes we'd both drive our own cars, but we usually went in the same car. We didn't ambush each other so that the other didn't know the other was watching. Of course, there was some passionate make-up sex to be had. Luckily, we didn't always have to go to work for a couple of days after such a session.
I could get upset with Damon if I were watching his show, how he was over-friendly to every fucking woman and didn't look at dogs, only women. It was probably something about my insecurity or subconscious fear that he would see other women as better than me, and then again, there was some jealousy there, though, when I allowed myself to feel it. Again, make-up sex.
We talked sometimes, whatever came to mind. How a judge was both in need of retirement or a road was terrible to drive on. So, we learned to share very mundane observations, and we continued our dental practice. Damon learned to make pretty fucking effective velvet, and it didn't even require that much vinegar; he also discovered that I use all the leftover coffee and coca cola in my stuff, and he changed his formulas so he didn't always have to pull vinegar.
Our yard was lovely; flowers were blooming, and we had bought lots of pots; we had pots full of flowers everywhere, young fruit trees, and Damon had cut down all the old trees and bushes in the spring, so they were growing now, too.
Even though we had a routine, everyday life, it wasn't boring at all. It was really lovely, and I enjoyed every moment, even our arguments, at least afterward, when I always thought better about it.
And then, when the judge wasn't always liked, and sometimes people came up to me and shouted or called me names, I tried to take it, but yes, sometimes I was annoyed and disgusted, but Damon was there. I could come home and eat, and when I went into Damon's arms, I told him how I had been called names and described the whole thing. He looked at it in my mind and reassured me. Understood and helped me get over it.
It was one very big security for me. I had someone to go to, to tell even though the problem wasn't bad, but I shared, and he listened and helped and understood, and sometimes he blurred the memory. I didn't have time to hide them all, and I didn't have time to react when I felt the sting in my lungs, and my mind went very fuzzy when he was doing his magic there.
And he demanded I tell him. Once, I'd been in a big show, it was when ten owners at least called me a whore, a biased, blind, chicken, stupid, and they'd sworn they'd tell everyone, and then no one would come to the show, I was in. Well, I got shit on, and then I came home.
Damon had had the day off, and the food smelled when I came in. I went to change my clothes, put my clothes straight in the wash, and went to eat. We were chatting over a meal, discussing the color of the walls in one room upstairs and what we were doing it for. I had said nothing about the fucking people, and I was normal, or at least I thought I was.
I finished eating and went out for a walk while Damon stayed to put the rest of the food in the fridge. I looked out over the lake and thought I shouldn't take it so personally, and I wasn't pleasing everyone. I had learned to hide some of my thoughts over time, and I didn't want Damon to find out how people's fucking had gotten to me.
"Baby, start telling me something's bothering you." His voice was calm, like honey.
I turned around and said, "It's nothing. Just leave it alone."
I walked towards the berry bushes, supposedly to see how big the crop would come.
Damon walked up behind me, grabbed me, and said, " Start telling me, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me."
Damon took me inside and we talked about the people together, then Damon informed the show organizers and they looked at the security camera footage and forwarded it to the police. Damon really cared, and when he saw I was in distress, he didn't give up until I told him. Not at all. He took care of me in a way that no one ever had, and I learned. I learned how I had someone, someone who cared, who watched, who insisted on telling me. Was always with me.
Cars were one problem, though. If Damon was off duty, he wanted to take me to my BMW. When I could drive myself, Mr. Salvatore drove my little baby often.
Although Damon said," It is usually a man's job to name the cars."
I just laughed at the whole thing and said," Well, I'm no ordinary woman."
Sometimes we went shopping all day and oh how I found a shoe store. So, part of the job was finding Damon a wonderful shop; the liquor store was very good. Then I got to go shopping and look at shoes.
I stumbled upon a delightful Oscar de la Renta shoe shop adorned with vintage shoes that whispered tales of time gone by. The air was filled with the scent of aged leather and nostalgia.
As I meandered through the shelves, my eyes were drawn to a pair of red shoes adorned with delicate white bows. I couldn't help but marvel at their beauty, though I questioned their practicality. The shelves also held a pair of exquisite black velvet shoes, boasting elegant high heels. My heart yearned for them despite already owning black shoes of a different material. I deliberated, my fingers grazing the smooth velvet surface.
Lost in my thoughts, I spent hours perusing the shelves, each pair of shoes captivating my attention. Suddenly, a dark and handsome man entered the shop, his presence commanding. Damon, as he was called, often whisked me away after purchasing half the store.
However, in those moments, I relinquished my power to choose. I could see the longing in Damon's eyes, his patience tested by my indecisiveness. To my surprise, he gathered nearly all the shoes in a trolley and paid for them, understanding my uncertainty.
Damon's actions showed his love and tolerance, but even he had his limits. My shopping habits pushed those limits to their edge. After our shopping sprees, we would seek refuge in a cozy coffee shop for dinner. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of pastries. Damon, ever observant, would scrutinize everything before ordering a delectable treat for me.
As we sat, I couldn't help but observe the surrounding people, silently judging their attire and appearances. Occasionally, Damon would burst into laughter, causing coffee to escape his lips. In those moments, I was reminded of our telepathic connection, allowing my mind to wander into mischievous thoughts. I was very inventive and naughty little minx from time to time.
One time, we were walking on the street just looking around, and I found this antique shop. There were flower columns in the window, and Damon was looking at the jewelry store window as he had made a new wedding ring for me. Before we even left here.
His expression was quite revealing when he was next to me and asked, "Baby, I suggest you stop those thoughts, or else I will go with you in that store, and we shall test each and every flower column in that shop, before buying them."
So I cleared my ideas. Damon went in and bought every column, and we tested them when they arrived, fueled with division demons' blood.
Our outings were always rushed, leaving the house in a flurry of excitement. We embarked on many shopping trips, each one a unique experience.
Then we realized when autumn came that time had passed and really we had a record of togetherness going. We had been in England for a year. We'd been together for a year, a little over a year if you count the couple of months in America.
Then Adam called and said now we have to go back as Bran insists. Some pack is asking for asylum, and elders and vampires compound the problem of why they are asking for that asylum. This pack claims the elders are after them, so Damon is demanded. Well, I wasn't left alone then, and Adam had recommended that I come back to the pack as well. Because we don't know what the problem is.
We sighed and vowed to do this again sometime. Damon had to rush off to a gig in England to watch some vampire problem, so I had to fly back on my own.
I arrived at a private airport, picked up my car, and drove to the house. We would be at Mississippi's house, and Bran would be there, too. Fine then.
I arrived at the house. Adam hugged me enthusiastically, but Bran didn't even come out. This was another house I'd bought, and I thought to myself that Bran would like to nest in my house.
Well, this one had been decorated, so I had done little work here. Damon arrived two hours later, very annoyed, and I guessed that had just been Bran's way of driving us apart. Damon was well-tuned, and now I didn't know why. I suspected it was just irritation; the gig had been for nothing.
Bran looked at us all and said, "Good to have the entire pack together at last. We're going to have another pack visit. Remember to behave yourselves. And this is not a gene swap. These are seeking sanctuary; they have applied for it, and I have granted it to them. These are from Canada, Quebec, to be exact. "
I was quite good, but I felt like saying quite a few sentences. I thought, yeah, you could grant asylum and even if it were a vampire problem, you'd have the originals on the end of a phone call, but no, we had to be dragged in here to be perfect hosts again. I wonder what the fuck the plot is. Fucking crazy little Nazi. The telepath next to me heard all my carefully constructed sentences and squeezed my hand, trying not to laugh.
Bran said after we had eaten. "Damon and Adam, why don't you come back over there, and we'll have a look at the problems of this pack. These claim they are being hunted, and there is proof of it. Damon, you at least know one woman, and Adam, you know another. Diane Williams and Beth Mulligan. Samuel and I know the alpha couple. The elders are after them, and since you, Damon, have a relationship with the elders, maybe we can find out what this is all about."
I could see by the look on Damon's face that it wasn't some passing acquaintance, but a relationship they were having. Oh really, ex-girlfriends. Fine. I realized that my perfect life ended here, and it was time to get back to my not-so-perfect life in the pack. I can't help that. We had a wonderful year and two months, and no ex-girlfriend is going to take that away from me.
I was being realistic. I could tell by the looks on Damon's and Adam's faces that women meant something to both of them, so I just had to bear with it. But when we had been so damn perfect, it wasn't easy, but I controlled myself and watched Damon walk into the office with Bran and Adam without saying a word.
I went upstairs, and in fact, this bed had never even been consecrated. Again, I had just been here for a few gigs. The bed was big and huge and had a lovely peach-coloured fluffy bedspread. Underneath were silk sheets and dark violets, and I had made this bed a bit of a seduction bed.
Damon said in my head. "Baby, this is going to take all night, and the pack is coming early. You don't mind, do you?"
No, not at all, and even if I did, what could I do? Not at all. Fine, I slept in the bed of seduction and perfumed it with strawberries and champagne. Easy as pie. Put on the eternal flame on your phone, so you need a little warming up, and you'll come pretty fucking hard. I wasn't even going to shower in the morning.
I had learned how much orgasm helps, and I was relieving myself because of it. I hoped that our mating bond was still open so Damon would have noticed what I was doing, but since Bran was in the house, he was always making some kind of disturbance, so I couldn't feel the state of our mating bond, whether it was open or closed.
I was still asleep at 6 am when Bran came into the room.
He opened the curtains and said, " Now you have to remember to control your vampire side. The vampires are chasing them, and they are scared, so now you just have to be a wolf. Do you understand? But I have a backup for that. "
I didn't have time to get up when he used the power of Marrok to push me into place, flipped me over onto my stomach, and struck me in the neck with some kind of implant or something that stung so badly and took my strength away. I gasped for a moment. I felt somehow weak and tired.
Bran said, " No bloodlust, no wild sex. That anti-vampire implant will keep you in check during this visit. I'll take it off then, I promise, but you see, now that this is back under Marrok law, I have to provide the best and safest refuge for these. The elders are difficult, so that's why I brought them here for safety, and you are a sniper, a fight club champion, a guerrilla leader, so you have a role to play. "
Oh really? Fine then.
Bran got out of bed and said, "Go take a shower. At least try to be relatively odorless for once. This is no time to seduce anyone, and I can see you've got your pheromones back. Now we're on a job, not a sex holiday."
Oh, fuck, I'm getting a little excited. But I controlled myself. I took a shower and put on some clean clothes. I went into the kitchen. There was no one there. Let's have breakfast by ourselves.
I had put my hair in a bun, but the men were still in the other room. I sighed and then tried to concentrate on my role as bodyguard or whatever. I knew that my perfect life was now over, and I didn't know when we could continue.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone