Chapitre 331: 10. This love.
I didn't have a sports car when I had a fancy gold Rolls Royce. It was massive, complete with a spacious compartment for storing things. The car was loaded, filled with the treasures I had collected from countless safe deposit boxes and the spoils of my activities, including drugs and adrenaline implants. I reached into the bag and retrieved my keys, but Damon swiftly snatched them from my hand.
He had escorted me outside, his presence a constant reminder of danger getting flanks. Damon circled the car, sliding into the driver's seat. His gaze pierced through me, a sharp and threatening look, warning me not to resist. I despised how he messed with the driving position, adjusting everything haphazardly.
I provided him with the address, deliberately omitting any mention of the hotel. Together, we drove towards our destination. As we arrived at the hotel, Damon's face contorted with a mix of suspicion and annoyance when he had to sign the title deeds. He stared at me sternly, and I suppressed any inclination to smile.
I waited by the private elevator, feeling Damon's presence close behind me. Stepping into the elevator, I inserted my card, only to be abruptly grabbed by Damon. The threat of flanks loomed closer, intensifying.
I disembarked from the elevator, concealing the dizziness that plagued me. Determined to appear composed, I made my way to my door. Retrieving my key card, I unlocked the door.
Damon paused, surveying the surroundings, while I casually mentioned, "That apartment across the hall is medbay. Colin and Magnum set it up after I had an abortion here. Right after the gelling."
Without hesitation, Damon also opened the door to that apartment, conducting his own inspection. As I entered the living room, I nonchalantly discarded my shoes, their thud echoing softly. With the evening setting in, I flicked on the gentle glow of a soft light.
Making my way to the wine fridge, I retrieved an enormous bottle of spumante, carefully selecting one of my exquisite crystal glasses. Settling onto the sofa, I positioned myself comfortably, anticipating the indulgence of a glass of wine and a moment of relaxation. I pondered what culinary delights awaited me, my dizziness subsiding slightly. Soon enough, I would savor the spumante and nourish myself, satisfying my palate and weary soul.
Damon carefully picked up my scattered shoes from the cold, hardwood floor and arranged them neatly against the smooth, cream-colored wall. Just as I reached out to grab the bottle of sparkling spumante, Damon's hand swiftly snatched it away, the sound of his fingers brushing against the glass echoing in the room.
He gripped the bottle of wine, his grip asserting dominance as he declared, "No alcohol. I'll bring you an appetizer shortly."
As I sat there, my mind wandered, and Damon's voice brought me back to the present. He inquired about my weight, his words hanging in the air like a faint whisper.
"Now, baby, what's your weight right now? I think it starts at three. Now I'm going to fill you up, and then we'll see what we do. How did you end up in the hospital, by the way?"
I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Adam went to be Bran's lap dog. There was talk of going to gigs and fight clubs, but then they called here, and I said yes. It was almost a better release of rage and extremely enjoyable."
A familiar tingling sensation spread through my chest and arms, the anticipation of what was to come. It was as if the room itself was charged with energy. With a heavy sigh, I rose from the plush carpet and made my way into the second bedroom.
Opening one of the closet doors, I retrieved a sports bag adorned with light grey stones. The weight of the bag in my hands was comforting, grounding me at the moment. I reached inside and grabbed two or three stones, their smooth surfaces cool against my fingertips. Settling onto the edge of the bed, I focused my attention on the first stone, allowing the power of the Mimosa to flow into it. Gradually, the stone transformed from its original color to a pure, radiant white.
Moving on to the next stone, I repeated the process, filling it with the potent energy of the mimo. With each stone, the weight in my hands grew, a physical manifestation of the power I held. Finally, when all three stones were brimming with the mimo's essence, I carefully placed them back into their own bag.
Lost in my own world, I failed to notice Damon's presence until he spoke up. He had been observing me silently, curiosity etched on his face.
"Would you mind explaining what you poured into those stones?" he asked, his voice laced with intrigue.
Before I could respond, Mimosa, my faithful companion, leapt out through my eyes and began chattering animatedly to Damon about the wonders of mimosa power. Ignoring their conversation, I followed Damon's lead, allowing him to guide me to the kitchen. Hunger was a distant thought for me, but Mimosa's insistent pleas won over Damon's attention.
In an act of care, Damon presented me with a tall, glistening bottle of Coca-Cola, its effervescence visible through the glass. "Drink up," he urged, a hint of concern in his voice. "It'll give you some sugar." I obliged, taking a sip from a delicate crystal glass as I settled onto the opulent, velvety sofa.
Damon prepared a succulent meal for Mimo, the aroma of the meat wafting through the air. Afterward, he joined me on the couch, sitting down beside me.
As he spoke, his voice filled the room, a mix of earnestness and vulnerability. "What you said really resonated with me, but darling, there's an explanation behind my behavior with women. Picture me as a spider, luring flies into my web for stress relief. I've been meaning to let loose a little, and now I want you to witness it, to see how I unwind. I still carry the weight of our past six weeks and how I shattered you. I know you haven't slept, but that's about to change. It's not up for negotiation, my love. I'm not Adam. As your husband, I will mend you."
His hand gently caressed my arm as he spoke, and before I knew it, I found myself nestled in his embrace. The scent of the food enticed me, even though I had no appetite. Damon had prepared a couple of steaks, skillfully adding delectable toppings.
Tenderly, he assisted me in sitting down, his touch reassuring. "Now, my love, let me show you a new skill I've gained," he whispered.
Lifting me effortlessly, he enfolded me in his powerful arms, my head resting against his chest. Suddenly, a purr resonated from within him, a rapid and high-pitched sound that wasn't sex purr. He held me close, his touch soothing, purring for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he stopped and guided me to the kitchen, where he prepared a meal. Still clad in my scrubs, I hadn't even changed. Ravished by hunger, I consumed the food voraciously, unaware of its origin. All that mattered was the sustenance it provided. His purr had given me hunger, and that was amazing to feel. The need to eat was something that I hadn't had in years.
As I reached the point of satiation, weariness washed over me, my eyelids heavy. Yet I resisted sleep, not wanting to succumb. Damon settled beside me, his presence a comforting anchor.
"Darling, calendula drops do wonders. Sleep may be unstoppable, but I'll assist you," he murmured.
With tender care, Damon carried me to the bedroom, undressing us both, leaving us bare and vulnerable.
He opened the bed, here was my own blankets normally but now there was only a double bedspread. He came next to me and wrapped himself around me. He held me tightly against him so I couldn't react when I felt the sting in my upper arm. I trembled for a moment, but Damon's strong, warm body, his scent, and his heartbeat made me calm even though I felt the drug take effect.
My eyes closed, and the darkness came, but my consciousness went out. It was only a mild dose of the drug, and even though it stopped working, I was safe while Damon worked his magic in my mind, so I slept peacefully for the first time in almost a year.
As Damon felt Mimi drift into a peaceful slumber, he remained rooted in place. He gently delved into her mind, uncovering fragments of terror that lingered within—fear of darkness, fear of the passing weeks. These fears were entangled, but not as intense as the ones he had crafted as a black mamba. They were Mimi's own creations, making them easier to unravel, though there were many to untangle.
He berated himself for his laziness, cursing his forgetfulness to teach Mimi vampire etiquette. He couldn't help but wonder about the blood Mimi consumed, pondering its source. The fleas supposedly maintained their own blood farms, handpicking donors. While he knew Mimi had her own blood farms, he questioned the type and potency of the blood she now consumed.
Her vampire nature was potent and close to the surface, but he could assist. He realized Mimi hadn't solely relied on Adam as a source. However, before any further action, a fitness regimen was necessary, followed by a revelation of his dormant vampire side—one he had kept hidden for far too long. Mimi could contribute once she was in better shape.
As he successfully dispelled the oppressive atmosphere within Mimi's mind, he, too, succumbed to sleep. His soul sang with the joy of being able to assist, to hold Mimi close, and to provide nurture and love.
I woke up in Damon's arms, and he was asleep. I tried to let go, and his grip tightened, and he murmured to me, " Just go back to sleep. There's still time. "
I didn't know how long I had slept, but I had slept, and I didn't wake up terrified. I closed my eyes; I dozed off, and now in my dreams, came to Sark, and I was scared, shitless, terrified. I wasn't sleeping; I was just lying and shaking. I was shaking wildly in Damon's arms.
Somehow, I heard Damon swear and get out of bed. He cursed low, got dressed, and took his key card as he went out. At some point, the horror stopped, and only then did I realize that the fear demon had been there, but how the hell did it send Sark into my head?
Damon came back and said, "That fear demon is now ex, sent by Sark. Knows about your vulnerability."
Oh, fuck. It's not funny. Another fucking weakness that seems impossible to shake off. Damon stripped back down and came over to snuggle up to me, his warm body providing comfort as I drifted back into a deep sleep. The scent of calendula drops lingered in the air, their sweet floral aroma making me feel drowsy once again.
Damon, being the caring soul he is, didn't even bother giving me the medicine this time. Instead, he wrapped himself around me, creating a cozy cocoon that lulled me into a peaceful slumber. No more nightmares haunted me, thanks to the telepath's skillful work on my troubled mind. I couldn't help but feel immense gratitude because when I sleep well, life becomes more bearable. The joy of indulging in a long and restful sleep is simply unparalleled.
During that week, Damon took care of me meticulously. He fed me with delicious meals, satisfying my hunger, and then gently guided me back to the realm of dreams. My days revolved around eating and sleeping, and I found solace in this simple routine. As soon as I opened my eyes, the rumbling of food purr would begin, signaling the start of yet another mealtime. After each feast, I would surrender myself to a food-induced coma, enveloped in Damon's embrace, his presence a source of comfort and security.
At some point, Damon must have slipped away to prepare more nourishment for me. I lost track of time as I lay there, slowly digesting my meal. When I finally stirred awake, there was no longer the familiar purring sound of food awaiting me. Sitting up in bed, I reached for my phone and checked the date. It hit me like a jolt of electricity–an entire week had passed. I was astounded to see that my weight had returned to a healthy 49 kilos, a remarkable achievement. Damon would kindly explain the importance of nourishment each time I ate, patiently guiding me towards a healthier eating routine.
Perhaps the hospital wasn't the ideal place for me to stay for an extended period. Until a permanent solution was found for my lack of hunger, I needed Damon's unwavering support to understand how to nourish myself properly.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone