Bab 353: 32. Our Last Summer.
I arrived in France two weeks later and pulled my SUV into the cobblestone courtyard of my exquisite French chateau. The scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air as I parked, knowing the bustling fight clubs were just a stone's throw away.
Damon, my partner, gently took the keys from my hand, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. We made our way to the medbay, where the sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of medical equipment greeted us. Damon meticulously conducted a thorough checkup, ran scans, and drew blood for tests. With the examination complete, our stomachs growled, and we indulged in a satisfying meal.
As the first club approached, I retreated to my lavishly decorated study, a haven I had meticulously crafted after Mirella and Mimosa. Lost in my work, I was oblivious to Damon's entrance.
His voice startled me as he questioned, "Baby, what are you doing? Adam has everything under control. He's keeping watch."
I assured him that Adam was handling some tasks, but I still had work to complete. Damon, concerned, joined me, pulling up a chair to observe my screen. He offered his advice for what felt like an eternity before making a cold call to Adam, informing him of my activities.
Surprised, I watched as Adam arrived hours later, wordlessly confiscating my work laptop, papers, and everything else. Damon directed me to dinner once again, my hair artfully styled to conceal the telltale white streaks that betrayed my vampire nature.
Damon insisted, "Come on, baby, let's eat and then retire to the bedroom. We have time, and it seems that one wildcat needs taming. You will not flaunt your vampire side in my presence, young lady. Rest assured of that."
Approaching from behind, he unraveled my hair, exposing the hidden streaks. A low growl escaped his lips as he sank his teeth into my neck. Reacting instinctively, I sprung up from the chair, toppling Damon and straddling his chest, emitting a menacing growl of my own.
His icy blue eyes remained fearless as he swiftly retaliated, throwing me off his body and forcefully pinning me to the floor, face down. I could feel his fangs sinking into my neck. At that moment, my blood flowed freely into his mouth, draining me completely.
When consciousness returned, I found myself on the couch, Damon quietly seated in an armchair, his silence speaking volumes. He motioned me toward the kitchen, urging me to eat. His actions showed the unpredictability of my vampire side when on full display.
We went into the large master bedroom and fucked like mad, or rather Damon fucked me spent and got my vampire side to calm down again; as he fed me, he again gave me blood, what I drank, and at what pace I drank, as well. He wasn't in doctor mode; he wasn't in fucking mode completely; he was in gig mode, and then he had trouble taking instructions.
We went to the club. On the way, I got quite a set of instructions on what he expected me to do. He was very strict. No killing fuckers, no unnecessary risks. It's pretty much the same principle: knock your opponent dead right away.
We had a couple of fights together, and I can say we went a while before Damon actually let me do anything.
He protected. He came at me cold when someone attacked and killed both opponents himself, but as the night went on, he relaxed a little bit, and I got into the swing of things. Then, it became fun. We almost started competing to see who could do more and kill faster.
But again, with the fucking anger management. This one had a new weapon—the calming purr. My rage went down the well when the purring started. Oh, I was pissed off sometimes, but at the same time, I knew that now someone was looking out for me, and maybe I wouldn't be so fucking bad after this gig. Although we'd have to wreck the jungles ourselves and also probably put down some of the mafia. But that's okay.
Just before we switched to Germany, we had one hell of a demanding club. So this would be a duel, demons only, and nonstop. Now, every time one demon dies, the next one takes his place. There will be no corpses from demons, only slime puddles.
But the thing made it challenging, among other things, that when the division of the demon pieces was destroyed about 75-80%. Hence, the new demon came to take its place, so we could both have opponents and then a division demon pieces still present in the cage and let's say that Damon, too, learned how tasty they are, but then there would be a consequence, and when the division demons were more than one.
Hence, it seemed that those damn pieces were always there in the cage. One division demon may split up about 200 little tiny fur balls; when you kill about 150- 175 pcs, you get another adversary, meaning that 25-50 pieces were still left, and more could come if division demons came several in a row.
Attempting to combat a towering, four-handed demon that stood at a staggering six feet tall, I embarked on a perilous mission. Though satanic, the demon possessed a tantalizing aroma that hinted at a delicious feast. Undeterred, I resolved to dismantle the malevolent division demon pieces at the same time and find out if Damon could kill his opponents, too. I tried to give him some space to fight, not get in the way.
Eventually, I dismantled the pieces of the division demon, and I had to relish in many satisfying meals derived from this four-handed demon flesh. However, even in its defeated state, the demon kept a fiery spirit, which only fueled my playful mood. Damon, too, successfully dispatched his opponent, but not without sustaining a deep gash that oozed a distinct metallic scent. His wound refused to heal, and through our unbreakable soulmate bond, I could sense his anguish.
Determined to aid my beloved, I unleashed a powerful punch to the demon's balls, reminiscent of a move from mortal combat. Following this, a forceful scissor kick to its face brought the demon crashing down.
I sank my fangs into his neck and talked to Damon via our bond, in our minds. With a reassuring tone, I beckoned Damon, "Come, my love, partake in this bountiful feast."
Intrigued by the scent of my blood intermingled with that of the demon, Damon swiftly approached, pulling me away from the demon's neck before it could regain its strength. He sank his teeth into the demon's neck, drinking deeply. While indulging in my rough and fervent consumption, it paled compared to Damon's voracity. Witnessing his wound heal before my eyes, he finally rose to his feet, and the demon, now reanimated, attempted to retaliate.
Without hesitation, Damon seized a sword that lay nearby and, with a single swift strike, severed the demon's head. The once formidable creature disintegrated into a grotesque puddle of slime.
Grunting, Damon wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve, proclaiming, "Well, that did the trick. But my dear, no more fooling around. Besides, I can feel more division demons in my blood."
I nodded in agreement, acknowledging these malevolent beings. Though their allure was undeniable, we restrained ourselves and promptly exited the confinements of the cage, victorious in our conquest.
As Damon took control of the steering wheel of my SUV, his soothing purr quelled my lingering rage. We made our way to the castle, where our desires were unleashed. Descending to the comfort of the couch, our clothes were discarded with fervor, and we indulged in passionate fucking that extended throughout the entire following day.
As we embarked on our drive towards Germany, I couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. We were in work mode, and I knew the journey ahead was going to be tough and arduous. My protective side kicked in, and I found myself worrying about Damon's well-being.
Sensing my concern, he looked at me from the driver's seat and grunted, "Well, darling, we will see how I do and how well I do. I'm not making any promises yet, as I can't see into the future."
I simply nodded, unable to shake off my worries.
After a brief silence, he spoke again, "You really are a protector, even though I should be the one protecting you."
Without hesitation, I replied, "Yes, I am. Always and forever."
Germany was tight for both of us, and we didn't have to play around with it. We both fought in our own cages, and while I could admire Damon's lethal efficiency in a cage for six months, I didn't have time for that. I had tougher opponents, and now my rage had to be on display. Likewise, Damon had to control himself to where he couldn't even purr down my rage now.
We went to the house; Damon looked me over to see if there was anything bigger and then just fucked; I had a magnificent house in Dresden, Germany, where we spent most of our time, and then there were a couple of hotels; they were very good to sanctify.
We used to fuck furiously in the house before the next gig. Both of us had our rages right there, and I could even imagine how our rages merged when we merged. We got Germany through.
We were both pretty damn tired, but I saw how hard it was for Damon to let go of me, knowing that Charles was my next partner, but the gig called for what it called for, and I left to drive to my next house. Charles was already waiting, fed me, and went off to the gym to see what I could do.
When I got Charles down on the ground with his hands behind his back and sat on his back, he was impressed, but then he really had no mercy and certainly wouldn't let me do the trick a second time. He knew what I actually was.
It was the same with Charles again. This boy was effective at killing the opponent on the spot. I didn't even have time to do much at first when he had already finished them both.
We had a pair fight in Austria at first, and well, when the opponents came, Charles pulled me behind him and killed them both, and quickly, he didn't ask me questions. It wasn't forbidden to do so, but it was damn annoying. Fine, I had my own fights, and oh that, I got feedback hard on the ride back to the house and coaching as well.
He didn't mince his words and spotted every fucking mistake. If I didn't agree with every point, we fought at the house as if clubs weren't enough. Charles taught me to kill faster, to be even more ruthless. He had seen pretty clearly what I was capable of, so he knew how to steer me in the right direction.
He didn't always see me as protected as Adam or Damon, but Charles saw the killer in me, brought it out, and started teaching me to accept that side of myself. It was hard. Frankly, when I had always sort of held my rage as the reason I started slaughtering, Charles now had me slaughtering without snapping, without my rage flooding open.
I learned a whole new side of myself. It was a really useful side, but it was also a scary side. He somehow got my inner killer out in the open without my rage and he taught me that enjoyment of killing is nothing I should shame. It is part and parcel of me. Now there was no more excuse for me to say that my soulless killing machine was my rage. It was not, not fully.
I had to be ruthless, skillful, and in control of myself and my rage. I also had to keep it under control. This also showed me the syringe if I didn't automatically start hiding my rage. Fine, yes, I control myself. I learned a lot. New moves, and it's actually fucking good to have someone new to fight with. Then, you get to try some other tricks again. Improvise. I beat Charles twice for being so fucking unpredictable. I'm chaos.
We went from club to club, and slowly, the job went on and on. Charles kept getting the better of me, and apparently, Damon had taught him how to feed me and take care of me as I was getting fed and had to strip naked and get scanned after every fucking club I fought in. I don't know what the results were or if there was anything special about them.
Two weeks later, I switched to the next partner. This one I was looking forward to, and then again, I wasn't as I knew how fucking demanding and ruthless Magnum could be, and as a fight club partner, well, I could protect him, but we didn't actually have a pair fight with him.
Magnum would be next in two weeks. Sergeant Major. After every club, I had my nerves on edge. I'd learned to keep my temper in check, but damn if I wanted to talk and talk loud. When Magnum said everything had to be so fucking perfect. Magnum was a real pain in the arse, and oh, that on the way home, I had been so fucking sloppy and careless, reckless that.
And we trained. He wanted to see what I could do now that I was fit, and he saw the beast side of me that Charles had dug out. Oh, he loved a challenge. Where Charles taught new skills, moves, ruthlessness, and brutality, Magnum honed every move to perfection.
I was fine when I showed a kick that Charles, or even Damon, had taught me. Magnum taught me how to make it perfect—as good as it gets. And there's a hell of a difference. With the right technique, I could get 20% more force into a kick and improve my precision by 30%. You don't have to strike and throw so much when even a little can do some actual damage.
You don't have to be such a beast to keep yourself in check and do your job as well as you can, but it didn't always help and sometimes you had to get furious. Magnum wouldn't even falter even though once I didn't put my rage down, which really switched on when I had a fucking hard time with the club hybrids, the elemental witch, so it took the rage to kill it.
Magnum judged as usual. We went to the house, and he cooked the food. This one also fed me, and I didn't fight back. But when the food was over, I passed out at the dining table after the damn calendula drops had worked.
I had 24 hours of time to go to Adam when I woke up. On the bedside table, there was only a message: "Now you're fine again, baby. Let's see where we go when we meet again, Damon."
I had been asleep for two days, and apparently, there was something wrong with me then.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone