Chapitre 45: 5. I Got You Babe.
I woke up to the dim light filtering through the curtains, my body feeling heavy and groggy from the medication. As I regained consciousness, thoughts of my babies and their illness flooded my mind, jolting me fully awake. I found myself in a cozy bedroom, glancing at the table beside me, where a note lay.
It read, "Darling, you've been nourishing and recovering for three weeks after enduring five weeks of respiratory therapy. The babies are doing well, living in their enchanted home, in a magic house, and in perfect health. You've been quite a challenging patient, but we care for you even as we had to torture you. Take care of yourself. The kitchen is stocked. We'll probably still be going at it like crazy lovers, but once we've gathered ourselves, we'll tackle pack life. Damon, 4."
It was touching to see that my version had left a note for me. I felt a sense of relief, although fragments of memories regarding the mask and the painful breathing sessions lingered in my mind. But being cared for by telepaths meant they could erase those memories if they became too much to bear.
It was time for me to move forward, regain my strength, and take some time for myself while the pack unloaded and recovered. I had a few ideas on how to rejuvenate, and yes, hitting the gym would likely be in the cards soon.
But first, I began to stir and made my way to the shower. The water cascaded over me, refreshing and cool, as I lathered my hair with luxurious shampoo. Wrapped in a plush, oversized bathrobe, I dried myself off, contemplating my next steps.
A feast awaited me in the kitchen, a chance to indulge in a truly satisfying meal. After that, I would give myself a few hours to digest before heading to the gym. I had personal demons to confront, and I preferred to channel my emotions through physical exertion rather than seeking solace in sex.
It wasn't that I lacked desire, but I found release and catharsis in the raw intensity of the gym. It was my way of coping, of venting my anger and frustrations. This was who I was, not merely a creature driven by lust like the rest of the pack. I had my own unique blend of emotions, and the gym provided the outlet I needed to process them.
I had not even thought of what it would bring me as I told Mariella what happened. The room was dimly lit, with a soft glow emanating from the table lamp in the corner. The scent of lavender filled the air, calming my racing thoughts. I had not even considered what it would entail if she told Damon if she would.
The sound of my own heartbeat echoed in my ears as I pondered the consequences. She had instead suggested that I tell him, but not right now. Maybe in the distant future, if ever. The weight of the decision hung heavy on my shoulders.
He just did not need to know. It would only hurt him, adding to the pain and loss he had already endured. I didn't want to inflict any more pain upon him. He was an ancient creature, and his past had been far from kind. I felt a pang of sympathy, as I too understood the haunting grip of one's past.
Even though I was only a fraction of his age, my own past had been a constant burden throughout my supernatural life. It rarely offered any benefits, only serving to weigh me down. I did not want to burden Damon further. No matter how strong he saw himself or how much he had changed, I had changed too. I knew my role as the alpha female, and it was to protect my pack and my mate.
As I dried myself off and slipped into comfortable clothes, I made my way to the kitchen. The room was deserted, a rare sight to behold. The silence enveloped me, allowing my thoughts to roam freely. It had taken four Salvatores to control me, three times a day.
They had done it besides my other treatment, meaning picking me up, washing me, and giving me fever meds, or cough drops which I did not like and did not want to take, so it had been a struggle as well. It was no wonder after tending me for weeks that perhaps they needed rest and sex.
I opened the fridge and took out a feast for myself. The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, tempting my senses. Determined to satiate my hunger, I devoured the meal, knowing it would provide me with the energy to face the tasks ahead.
Once the meal settled, I would unload my emotions and thoughts. This meant hard and long sessions in the gym, with my rage and other emotions blasted open. It was a process that consumed me, making it difficult to stop once I started. Afterward, I would indulge in another shower, followed by another meal, and possibly repeat my gym session.
The sound of my punches, grunts, and kicks and the smell of sweat would fill the air as I pushed myself to my limits. The kitchen became my refuge, a place where I could find solace and nourishment. It was a haven for me, just as it was for others. When I embarked on the journey of unloading, it became a force that carried me along, making it challenging to halt.
I was uncertain about when and with whom I should unload my powers. Inside me, a need, like a swirling vortex or building pressure, was present. I knew that unleashing it would take a toll on anyone who dared to ignite it.
My powers were closely tied to my emotions, so I had hidden away much of my pain, resulting in a decrease in their reaction. I aimed to remain tolerant, not easily crossing the threshold, concealing the fact that I was ready to release my load.
The power within me felt immense, as always. I wondered if it would ever cease, how rapidly it formed. Did unloading it truly make it disappear, or would I forever be engaged in this process, never fully relieving myself?
It was futile to ponder scenarios; I was chaos personified, and my reaction was unpredictable. This might be one key to slowing down the rapid growth of my power, but with me, anything could happen, and I needed to be prepared for anything.
After nourishing myself, resting, and indulging in a few vintage movies about lizard aliens attempting to conquer Earth, I was ready to head to the gym and let it all out. As I changed into my gym attire, I allowed my rage to surface, along with my emotions.
However, I created a shield around them to prevent my intense feelings and fury from seeping into the minds of others through our pack bonds. I didn't want anyone to sense my state of mind at the moment. This was a personal journey, and I preferred to keep it hidden from prying eyes.
Damon and Mariella had engaged in passionate fucking, their bodies intertwining like a wild storm for weeks. It had been about three weeks since Mimi had put to feeding and the last of the babies went into their magical house.
Caring for the sick infants had taken a toll on the entire pack, but Damon couldn't help but be amazed by Mariella's unwavering care and nurture throughout it all. However, he failed to notice the occasional distant look in her eyes, a result of Mimi's secret revelation that she had kept hidden in the depths of her mind, in a room inaccessible to Damon.
This room, mostly empty, held no greater purpose for her, no hidden spells or tasks awaiting her attention. It saddened her to realize that she had no significant role, while Mimi seemed to be guided by prophecies and a predetermined destiny. Mariella felt like a mere side character in Mimi's story. Once this room had had several secrets but she had done her duties over the years and it seemed that she had no more higher calling.
Uncertain if she should confide in Damon about her thoughts, she contemplated the fate of those three cubs. After a few weeks of intense passion with Damon, Mariella had managed to calm him down, allowing her to reflect on the cubs.
This unleashed a deep anger within her, directed at herself for her perceived weakness. Giselle had been right; she couldn't handle such a devastating loss. She felt utterly powerless, as she and the pack had not been there to support Mimi.
The revelation of the euthanizing substance only intensified her feelings of helplessness. She wondered if, as the savior, she could have saved those cubs. Instead, she and the wolves crumbled like a house of cards, shattered by a mere few pieces of tissue. The rage within her burned, and she projected it onto Damon, attacking him in an attempt to dismantle the turmoil inside her.
Mariella was accustomed to being an emotional dumping ground for others, and she, too, occasionally sought release through others. But this feeling was unlike anything she had ever experienced.
As Damon noticed the change in Mariella, he initially assumed it was her vampire heat, but something was off. She had a distinct need to fight back, igniting in Damon a desire to dominate and possess her. However, she resisted, using all her energy and even spells to defy Damon. When Damon finally took control and began to make fuck her senseless, Mariella seemed to release something dark and unpleasant.
Tending to the children had been challenging, and Mariella had pushed herself to her limits. But they had faced worse in the past, and Damon couldn't decipher what was happening inside his wife's mind. His telepathy failed to reveal anything, leaving him to wonder what she was trying to unload and banish.
They had started their passionate and rough fucking just as Mimi had woken up. It had taken three weeks for Damon to exhaust Mariella, and now she lay beside him, his gentle touch caressing her flawless body.
"Darling, there's something on your mind," he whispered. "As a telepath, I can help you release it and offer my support. Is it about the babies?"
Mariella remained silent for a moment, then admitted, "I feel weak, just like Giselle said. I don't know if I could handle what happened to Mimi. I'm full, almost broken."
Confused, Damon frowned and asked her to explain. "I don't understand what you're referring to. Is it an old memory of Mimi's?"
Mariella made a sound between a chuckle and a snort. "It's a memory, something terrible that happened to her. She's protecting you by not telling, and I understand why. I'm not sure if I'll tell you either."
Suddenly, Mariella felt a soft rush in her lungs as Damon pressed a remote, touching her side, clouding her mind. Damon's voice seduced her to share, promising safety and love. But Mariella knew this situation didn't call for safety.
Under the influence of the drugs, she mumbled, "Damon, let it go. The pain would be too much for you, the guilt. Let her keep her secret, let her protect you, let her bear this burden and pain."
Impatient and curious, Damon urged her to tell him something, anything, so he could decide if he wanted to know more.
After a brief silence, Mariella finally spoke. "We failed her. We were too weak over those pieces of tissue. We escaped, and she lost..."
Damon's impatience grew, and he pressed her for more details. "What did she lose? What happened?"
Mariella's tear-filled eyes met his, and she hesitated to speak. Instead, she sent a vivid flashback to his mind, a snippet from the past. He saw Mimi, transformed into a human, surrounded by playful cubs. Their innocent voices filled the air, asking why their brother lay motionless.
Mimi clutched a blood-red leopard, its fur resembling fresh wounds, and wept uncontrollably. Damon's gaze fell upon the lifeless face of one cub, witnessing the anguish etched on Mimi's features. Next to her, a small sheet-covered mound marked the resting place of another cub. He saw her placing dead one next to another, and she cradled the remaining cub, barely clinging to life, its ragged breaths haunting the space.
Damon struggled to comprehend this nightmare. Cubs were supposed to be immortal, yet here he stood, witnessing their tragic demise.
Trembling, he whispered, "Why? How many?"
Mariella embraced him tightly, her voice trembling as she revealed what she knew.
"She lost three. She made an euthanizing agent from her fangs, but she couldn't bring herself to use it. They spoke their first and final words to her before…" Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face as she continued.
As she recounted the gruesome events, how Mimi had been mauled, and how the three beloved cubs had been devoured, Damon fell into silence.
In a barely audible voice, he confessed, "I, too, consumed my own cubs. I was a monster. I have no right…"
Mariella hushed him, her touch offering solace amidst the pain.
Finally, he mustered the strength to say, "I need to confront Mimi. I need to hear her account, moment by moment, just the two of us. This is our shared loss, and she must tell me. I need to listen and, perhaps, find a way to heal."
Mariella revealed, "She has been awake for three weeks, spending most of her time in the gym. I don't think she's doing well either. I'm ashamed of how we treated her in Alaska, and now I understand the significance of those three roses, the cubs speaking of ascending to the stars."
Damon felt overwhelmed by the weight of this task. How could he coax Mimi into reliving the worst moments of her life? But he knew he had to try, for he longed to understand and support her. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of being a father who had lost his precious cubs, the ones he had hoped to nurture and cherish. Always and forever.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone