Chapitre 402: 1. Will You Be There?
I had had a wonderful time with Adam, and he was just so damn perfect, too. I reeled in my mind about what we did and all those sensations. My body was satiated, and I was a little tired from rough and intense sex with Adam. I happily walked upstairs and started getting dressed. I took off my robe, and suddenly, a tight grip on my arm pulled me against something hard. I smelled a very strong passionfruit and burning fire. Damon. He had been hiding in the shadows of the room. He grunted dangerously. So I was a good girl.
He dragged me into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Soon, he was naked himself, and he pulled me from my hair, turned my head so that my throat was exposed, and sank his fangs into and fed off me. Brutally too, after I had about five liters of blood left, meaning I was limp and almost unresponsive, he didn't say a word as he started scrubbing my skin clean with a root brush. He was angry, tight. Quiet. I could feel him in my mind and he was fading my memories from the time I was with Adam, making them seem not so important.
Then, he coldly opened my abdominal cavity with the sharp flick of his fingernail and rinsed out all of Adam's fillings in the shower. He held me so tightly that I didn't bother to fight back, but let's just say that flushing your abdominal cavity with plain water in the shower is not painless or comfortable. Finally, he let my poor stomach heal and felt around carefully to ensure I had no filling.
Then he knelt and got between my legs and ate my pussy out. The pain as he ripped my pussy off, was so bad that my eyes blackened almost, but he didn't let me lose my consciousness at any point. He let a new one grow in its place and stood up.
He took me to the bed and still laid me on my back without saying a word. He came on top of me and started kissing and dominating. Yes, he knew how to turn me on and was pretty damn horny. He was rough, but not in how he had been in the Azores. this was now some sort of punishment fucking. He was staking his claim, biting me everywhere, to my pheromone glands too. That hurt. He took and owned me mercilessly, and for the second time that day, I got a good spanking from a very controlling husband this time. When he came inside me, he grunted in satisfaction and continued.
We kissed and were horny. We were inside each other all night. I don't know how often he came inside me with his thick nectar of love, and I didn't care. We didn't have to go to the gigs quite so much. He didn't speak much. We were fucking, and I was being owned and marked.
I was also carefully bitten and marked all over. He ate chunks out of me, so long that it left a scar, what smelled of passionfruit. Apparently, Mr. Salvatore had a little bit of a possession problem, and that was probably partly why he was so possessive, because I would go to gigs with Adam. He controlled me tightly all the time and tied me up, giving me a few flanks for me to be helpless in his hands.
We were in bed all the time frantically fucking before Bran came round the door, knocked, and said, "Time to go to the gigs. "
Damon picked up the pace one more time, and then, when he came, he came and came hard. I felt myself being filled to the brim, and he punctured another hole in my diaphragm so that the filling went around my lungs and heart. He lifted me on top of him and kept flooding inside me, stroking his filling all over me.
When the flooding stopped, I knew I was full, but not too full. The filling had always had time to condense and be absorbed. When he pulled out, he left a slimy plug behind, so I couldn't fuck as long as the slimy plug was in my fuck. I was full of bite marks. He owned me. I smelled like passionfruit and strawberries.
We went to the shower, where he fucked me in the ass and finally filled my bowels with his lust cream and left the slimy plug in there too. Fine, not, then immediately engaged in Adam.
Damon's strictness towards me was palpable, his disapproval of my relationship with Adam evident. However, circumstances left us with no other choice. Our life was a bittersweet mix of perfection and imperfection, constantly shifting.
Damon meticulously selected my attire, opting for my own jeans and a simple tee shirt. He skillfully styled my hair, securing it in an updo. It wasn't lost on me that he had faced his own annoyance when I borrowed his jeans and altered them to fit me. But I had previously bought him a plethora of jeans, unaware if he had ever used them. It seemed he struggled to let me go, but duty always prevailed over personal life and marriage.
Before leaving, Damon warned me, "Be cautious. I know you possess some resistance to magic, but not to everything. I'm off to pursue my targets, but at least Hauptmann will be there to support you."
I replied, questioning, "You were engaged with other women on the phone during the flight. Why this sudden change?"
Damon gazed at me intently and confessed, "Those women are my targets, the darkest witches of all. I've infiltrated Bonnie Bennet's coven, attempting to seduce them. Remember, you belong to me, always."
With those words, he departed without even touching his breakfast. I, too, was too well stuffed by Damon's bump, so nothing fit in.
As I stood there, Adam examined me from head to toe and chuckled. Bran also observed me, taking notice of my numerous bites, bruises, and the lingering scent of passionfruit. He smirked knowingly. Adam rose from his seat, locking eyes with me.
He remarked, "I had no idea I posed such a threat to Salvatore, but are you ready?"
I nodded, feeling a surge of determination. The scenting operations Damon had conducted on me had transformed Adam into a heightened state of excitement. Together, we embarked on our gigs, utilizing my well-equipped Bentley. However, upon Adam's inspection of my locker, guns and various other items were swiftly removed. He claimed most of my firepower and ammunition, assuring me that my backup team would handle the car later.
Soon, the fleas called me a couple of days after we'd been on gigs, and Adam and I then agreed that I would carry on with the flea missions, and he would hunt the witches himself. It would be safer that way. It depends on what someone thinks is safer, but I had no problem with it.
Adam had always been incredibly protective of me, to the point where I had only done sniping, avoiding personal kills. He expertly handled those tasks, taking my sniper rifles and my sleek Bentley with him. Although he wouldn't be able to crack open my locker, he had plenty of equipment himself.
He dropped me off at San Antonio's base and went off to eliminate the witches and demons. Once again, I had Jake and Rob by my side, looking out for me and ensuring I was well-fed, keeping me in top physical condition. Both of them were eager to spar with me, helping to maintain their own fitness as well.
We executed successful demolitions together. While I led most of our missions, Rob and Jake were always there to support me, acting as my backup. Magnum was occupied with that phonebook or kill list, which was actually Charles' responsibility, so I didn't have to concern myself with that.
I had been stationed on various bases for two weeks when I received a report about a warehouse. These locations provided us with crucial supplies, and demolishing or looting them dealt a significant blow to our enemies. It was a massive warehouse in Atlanta, and we entered with a group of approximately 20 individuals.
The place was lightly guarded, as they were trying to maintain a low profile because of the increased publicity. Having guards attracted attention and could potentially lead to tip-offs. That was the last thing any nefarious pharmaceutical company desired.
Jake and Rob accompanied me, serving as my bodyguards, as I affectionately referred to them. With a decent bounty on my head once again, courtesy of Sark, it wasn't always safe for me to be out in public without two strong and ruthless protectors.
This building was an industrial warehouse, with walls made of aluminum and enormous doors to accommodate trucks. Located in an industrial part of the city, we conducted thorough surveillance and received reliable tips, making this operation a sure success. To ensure our entry, I utilized three drones to disable the security cameras, meticulously adjusting their positions.
Our witches had given us teleportation crystals. They had receivers and senders; we had sender crystals with us, and in our warehouse, there were receivers, so we got an enormous pile of stuff and put seven crystals around them. That area was three meters in diameter. Then we activated the crystals by touching one of them with our special rings. The crystals teleported whatever was inside that area. And it ended up in our warehouse. In the receiving area, people were waiting to unload. We had a truck too with us, but these crystals enabled us to move heavy stuff fast,
We went in. This was a wide hall with shelves with cardboard boxes on them. I walked along with people and went deeper and deeper into the warehouse when I saw them. Shuttles, tables with stems on them. Similar or almost similar to the way Damien handled me. So they were from the evil medical facilities.
My heart raced, pounding in my chest like a wild stallion. Memories of the past bubbled to the surface, threatening to consume me.
Jake's voice, filled with concern, snapped me back into the present moment. "Hey, what's going on? Are you okay?"
I swallowed hard, my throat dry with anxiety, and nodded, unable to trust my trembling voice just yet.
Rob came up beside me, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. "Oh, another one of those," he remarked with a hint of annoyance. "I'll call the drivers and have them take them to the warehouse. We can't use crystals, as there is no room for these."
His words pierced through my racing thoughts, drawing my attention sharply. Finally finding my voice, I blurted out, "Wait, have you encountered these before? Do we already have them in storage somewhere?"
Jake looked at me with a surprise showing in his eyes. "Oh, didn't Damon mention that we've been finding these on and off for years?" he said casually. "We have one enormous warehouse where they're taken and broken down when we have the time. These things can contain rare metals and whatnot, so Damon instructed us to stash them away when he stumbled upon them during a gig."
A warning bell chimed in my head, its urgent melody echoing through my thoughts. What's to stop someone, I mean Damien, from robbing parts or even entire pieces of equipment from that warehouse? And how long has this been going on? Am I just making assumptions?
My mind raced with questions, and I voiced my concerns. "Now that Damon has access to these too, we need to figure out a way to block Damien's access. But if Damon needs something from them, then we'll have to reassess the situation. Do any of you smell his distinct scent of passionfruit or wet dog? That's the only way to detect when Damien is lurking nearby. I don't want to make things too difficult for Damon, and if he finds out that Damien has obtained torture machines from my warehouses, he'll blame himself, giving Damien even more power. It's a never-ending rat race."
Frustration laced my voice, mirroring the tangled web of thoughts in my mind. I desperately tried to devise a protocol to ensure Damien wouldn't get his hands on any more of these dangerous items. But then again, if this has been happening for years, who knows how much he has already taken?
The warehouse had been emptied, stripped bare of its contents. Medicines, gases, metals, and spare parts—all vanished. They transported most of the contents out with the aid of crystals, but after emptying the warehouse, they also loaded up four massive trucks. I continued with the gigs, pushing these troubling thoughts to the back of my mind. Whatever was meant to happen would happen.
If Damien had already plundered the supplies, he had years to do so. And I had no idea if Damon needed something, as he invented with Samuel quite a few machines or contraptions. And he tortured his victims too, that I knew, so maybe if Damon had taken something, they would not have been reserved for me.
God damn Damien was one fucking nuisance, danger in my life and I couldn't help that, and without proper proof, I didn't want to break up our relationship, which was, again, pretty good. Because in the Azores, and elsewhere, when I talked about Damien to Damon, I tried to make it clear that he differs from Damon. Damon had snapped at me, a few times. What if there was a fully independent creature in his mind? How to fuck he got his memories, too?
But Damon was weathervane. At one point, he swore Damien was part of him, and next; he agreed to me that Damien was not part of him. I just knew that if I keep on talking about Damien all the time, it strains our relationship and might drive Damon to fuck others and party. So I decided to shut the hell up for now.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone