บท 146: 26. Lambada.
I woke up in a dimly lit bedroom, the soft glow of sunlight peeking through the curtains. As I rose from the bed, I noticed a note resting delicately on the mahogany nightstand, its edges slightly curled. The room seemed hazy, my body still heavy with the remnants of sedation.
My mind was filled with a whirlwind of emotions, a mix of trepidation and relief, as I recalled the recent missions and their outcomes. However, a twinge of dissatisfaction lingered, knowing that Damon had discovered my other victims, who had been such enjoyable playthings.
Taking a moment to steady myself, I gripped the bed's edge, allowing the dizziness to subside. The note on the table caught my attention, its words elegantly penned in an ornate handwriting that was all too familiar. "Come to the kitchen when you wake up, Damon," it beckoned.
I rummaged through the half-used clothes I had stored here, selecting a comfortable outfit. The anesthesia had left my skin hypersensitive, a sensation I had grown accustomed to. With my blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, I prepared myself for what awaited in the kitchen.
Although a shower would have been a welcome respite, I obediently made my way to the kitchen, still feeling the remnants of the drugs coursing through my veins. As I entered, the aroma of passionfruit filled the air, mingling with the sight of a few meticulously crafted wedding cakes adorning the table.
Damon, lost in his task, didn't notice my arrival. His grip on the piping bag was firm and precise, a testament to his expertise in cake making. The dedication he showed to creating the perfect buttercream patterns on the cakes showcased his professionalism, leaving no doubt in my mind.
He was a true professional, a master of his craft.
I had my little place in my mind where I could think of my own thoughts without a powerful telepath that was still piping the cake, getting any idea about what I was thinking and I was not sure if he had done any of my wedding cakes. I had gotten brief instructions earlier about what the wedding would be, more or less.
This meant that as they were already married, Damons and Mariella, it would be just a ceremony and I would have to only sign the paper to confirm my marriage to all the damons. No need to do an enormous bunch of paperwork and, of course, it would be a three-day event. For Mariella, it would be a dream wedding more or less but for me, well I was not sure what it would entail and even Damon number one would be with Mariella, there were several salvatores free and, for example, number two was very efficient with his flanks.
I walked over to the table, taking a seat and immersing myself in the artist's creative process. As time passed, the cake began to take shape, adorned with delicate peach and passionfruit flowers, intricate piping, and a buttercream shade that blended seamlessly into hues of peach and yellow.
Intrigued, I asked, "Why did you need me here? What's going on?"
Damon glanced up, furrowing his brow as he met my gaze. "You should still be asleep. I'm not sure if you're ready for our conversation yet. You're heavily drugged, my love," he murmured.
Undeterred, I replied, "I'm ready. What do you want to talk about? It's intriguing that you want to discuss it privately. I'm wide awake, you know me. No amount of drugs can keep me down if I have any say in it."
Damon set aside the piping bag and carefully placed the cake in the fridge. Glancing around, I noticed several other cakes already prepared, and it dawned on me that he was creating our wedding cakes. It was a thoughtful gesture, but I hoped my role in the wedding would be simple and painless. Meaning no flanks, no night stabbings.
Damon joined me, taking a seat and locking eyes with me. He spoke earnestly, "This may be difficult for you to comprehend or accept, and I understand that I have no right to ask, yet I'm still asking. Mimi, I want you to let go of your dangerous pursuits entirely. Stop engaging in fleas and hand them over to the Sarks. There are already a few of them, as you've met. I know I'm asking you to give up your life's work, and it's not fair, but baby, I can't bear the thought of you risking yourself for anything. I want to keep you safe, physically and emotionally. Please try not to despise me for this."
I let out a sigh of relief. Ah, this was a weight off my shoulders. Finally, someone else had told me to stop, sparing me the burden of making that decision myself. Deep down, I knew I couldn't do it, but now, I had a lifeline, a way out, and I took it without hesitation.
I gazed into Damon's eyes, my voice carrying a sense of relief rather than bitterness or anger. Despite this, a numbness still enveloped me, making it difficult to truly feel anything beyond the exhaustion of my existence. "Fine. I don't mind handing over my organization to the Sarks, not really," I said. "I've witnessed their competence firsthand. But please remember that building new contacts and facilitating the transition will take time. Some individuals refuse to collaborate with others when working with me, and their involvement is crucial to our success. I need to find a way to bring them together with the Sarks. Fleas have always been and will continue to be a part of my life. I have one job, always. Occasionally, when I have the chance, I embark on short trips. It's a promise I made to myself, and I intend to keep it."
Damon's gaze met mine, and he softly murmured, "Ah, those plaques, huh? Perhaps we could take one of those trips together sometime. You wouldn't believe how much I still want to support and protect you, my darling. And it's not just because I'm your alpha or your protector; it's me, all of me. I know that deep within you, there's a graveyard for everyone you've lost, and I would like to help tend to it as well..."
Surprised, I looked at my husband. He had called me a darling too.
I replied, "I promise to let go of the fleas and refrain from attending gigs, but I will still assist if someone seeks my help and the Sarkis are unsure how to provide it, at least during this transitional phase."
Damon nodded understandingly and said, "You may one day regret your promise and yearn to return to the missions. After all, you are an adrenaline junkie."
I said, "This will not take away the fact that I do not know when the next world-saving mission will come my way, meaning fight clubs and whatnot. My life is just not meant to be too sedentary. You are planning the perfect wedding for Mariella, and that is just fine. You can have it. I am too tired to really feel much of anything, way too cynical to be a bride, and I am definitely not a virgin, so I really should not dress in white. But as usual, you do what Mariella wants, and it translates then that this pack operates on Mariella's needs. I am not bitter, just numb and tired, so don't mind me. It takes time for me to even try to feel anything, and it is not because of you. This is just me and my organization. It has taken its toll. Here we are."
Damon sighed, his weary eyes scanning the table as he spoke. "You are right, as usual. I am crafting Mariella's perfect wedding here, something I never gave to you. And you know me, I might have some pretty wild nights coming, so you know what to expect. I see you are tired. I would have kept you asleep for a while longer, but then again, anesthesia with drugs will not yield the right rest for you. I have no idea what you have been through, but I did know quite many of those that I terminated, and I know that you have done it several times. I can see the toll that it has taken out of you. I wish I could help you, but then again, you are protecting me as always, and damn it, it should be me protecting you."
I sighed and looked at the table for a moment, the worn wood grain tracing patterns under my fingertips.
I looked up and said, "Do you remember that one gig that made you feel good? Well, I can say that I haven't felt that way at a gig in a long time. As we evolve, so do our enemies, and Damien is a prick. I've had some time now to clean up his mess. He is not the only reason. Fleas has changed too."
My voice was still tired. I was not saying everything that I had in my mind, but something so he would not have to feel guilty.
" There are not many of us oldies left, and the new ones, well, they don't know me, they fear me. I've had to search for the reasons, feelings, and experiences to keep going, so it might be high time for me to step aside. I have had my doubts for some time now. Finding the motivation to keep going has been harder and harder."
I was not going to tell too much detail. I was good at giving enough, but not too much. He sighed too.
My voice was steady, not too tired. I hope at least," You just gave me a way out, and I will take it. Thank you for that, because I, myself, could not find a reason good enough to stop, to let go. I would have carried on even if there was no spark in me to do it, and it is not good."
Damon took my hand and said, " I'm sorry you've been having such a hard time for so long. But you don't have to anymore. Now someone else has to clean up Damien's mess, and there's a good chance when you quit that job he'll quit too, while you're not around to see it."
I sat there smelling those cakes. The kitchen was brightly lit and neat. Everything was in order but I felt so damn hollow from inside and I knew that most of my emotions or something that made me feel were those not-so-nice sides of me, my rage, my dark side and I would not speak about that. I kept it under control and it was my responsibility, nothing else.
Then Damon stood up, looked at me, and said, " Think about it, then. Are you going to take a shower right away? You weren't anesthetized with velvet, so check your temperature first."
He meticulously tidied up the kitchen, placing his trash in the bin and loading the dishes into the humming dishwasher. Not a single word escaped his lips, his mind preoccupied with something else entirely. I could sense that he had accomplished what he had set out to do, and deep down, I knew Mariella had played a significant role in unraveling his inner turmoil. She had a knack for unearthing Damon's hidden insecurities and magnifying them.
Although relinquishing the fleas was the right thing to do, it was shrouded in a facade of false concern. I was a pretender, a skilled lie detector, and it was true that the truth could set you free. If only Damon had expressed his feelings of exclusion, it would have been easier to understand. He disliked me being in charge, my focus solely on saving humans. In his eyes, they were mere prey, and he couldn't comprehend why I was so determined to protect his meals.
After he finished cleaning the kitchen, he silently retreated. I let out a weary sigh and decided to step outside into the sweltering air to regulate my body temperature. I wasn't planning to take a dip in the water, just a leisurely stroll around the castle grounds. If the entire pack was occupied elsewhere, perhaps I could spare some time to visit Lake Lanier before the upcoming wedding. However, if they were all occupied, well, the dishes could wait. I ventured outside and plucked some ripe berries, savoring their sweet taste. There was also an old greenhouse nearby, filled with nostalgia.
I had spent many years working on greenhouses, each one tucked away and concealed. They housed perennial plants that thrived with a self-sufficient watering system, relying solely on rainwater. Sometimes, I needed to remind myself to check on my plants. After spending hours outside, I finally went indoors. The aroma of food filled the air as I prepared a meal, taking ingredients from my own shelf and heating them up. I gathered my drinks and simultaneously prepared a cup of coffee.
Once I finished eating, I turned my attention to making bouquets. My mind swirled with a mix of emotions as I arranged the flowers. In the midst of this, I reached out and called Jarod, engaging in a lengthy conversation. He was always the one who provided me with a clear sense of direction, and it felt perfect.
He reminded me, "Remember when I warned you about the blurred lines between your roles as a pretender? Well, Mimi has been infiltrated by a flea side, and it will take time for you to rid yourself of it. The flea side prevents you from truly feeling, except for rage and darkness. You need to discover what you truly want to do. Anything is possible, and life will provide you with more opportunities aligned with your desires."
I replied, "You know, being this old, it sometimes feels..."
He chuckled and interjected, "Just imagine how Damon feels."
I laughed, acknowledging his point. Compared to Damon, I was still a young and inexperienced individual. Perhaps the key to awakening Mimi fully was to embrace my vampire side, allowing myself to indulge in the satisfying act of drinking a freaking potent cocktail of bloods and truly feeling alive.
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