บท 122: 2. Every Breath You Take.
I had not yet implemented my plan. I needed a few weeks to see if I could calm my mind down. I was being responsible, prioritizing my health. I was fed up with being patient, sick, and weak, unable to move, eat, or act. The memories of being in intensive care and close care haunted me. I had tried to escape my life, but Damon, being as unpredictable as a weathervane, made it difficult.
I was living in one of my safe houses, a small space for the pack. If they wanted it, I guessed it would be sold, expanded, or moved elsewhere. I remembered the times when I walked like a zombie, covered in blood, consumed by rage and bloodlust. Those moments provided safety, but eventually, I had to knock myself out to reset my rage and seek help.
Now, I was trying to live a real life, not just be a leader, sacrificing everything for others. Those memories, as awful as they were, burdened only me. Despite Damon drawing power from them, they affected him too. He saw me as a weak victim, not invincible. Alternatively, he saw my darkness, my inner beast, and even though they had worked hard to suppress it, there was no guarantee it would stay buried.
It was ironic how strong it was, and I couldn't help but laugh at myself. I was so similar to Damon. My darkness remained calmer when I was happy, and feeling love. But in this pack, there wasn't always time for love. The pack leader didn't drug me out of love; it was a purely medical decision. Maybe he thought he loved me, but it was only part time. He was my part-time lover. As for the other Salvatores, there might be one or many who were willing to commit more than just "maybe," but Mariella was a hindrance. She had to have them all, not that she even used them. She just had to possess them.
Her jealousy had spilled over like a simmering pot of emotions. The wolves, sensing her turmoil, claimed me as their own. Lost in deep contemplation, I pondered the intricacies of our pack's existence. Uncertain of the passing hours, I contemplated my next move. My life had been a tumultuous whirlwind, a storm of my own making. I could place blame on various men and circumstances, but the truth was, I was responsible for it all.
Damon, prepared and determined, slowly delved into Mimi's mind, simultaneously enjoying the game of manipulation and teaching Mariella with her collar and flank organ. The plan was to operate the cubs out of females and entrust them to the magical house when the time was right. Eventually, they would be bred within the pack, including Mimi. Everything had a purpose in Damon's eyes. He saw himself as strong enough to shoulder the weight of Mimi's memories, whatever dark secrets they held. It was crucial for him to hear the good stories too, to laugh, listen, and be a part of her life.
Aware of Mimi's delicate health, Damon acknowledged the biological connection they now shared. His enzymes would complement hers, minimizing any potential danger. He gathered a collar, needles, and a potent sedative, instructing his second-in-command who would be number two to keep a watchful eye on the females, ensuring they remained under control.
The time had come for the baby to witness Damon's unwavering commitment to fulfill the promise he made long ago. He longed to hear Mimi's tales of loss, particularly the heart-wrenching moments involving Rob and Jake. He yearned to shield her from any pain. Perhaps, in time, they could find genuine enjoyment, a chance to unwind and revel in each other's company. Maybe he could intoxicate her with his blood, coax her into a striptease performance once more. Losing her was not an option, not now, not ever. Even if their path was rough, it was fueled by love, a desperate need to protect and support her.
He teleported close by, the sudden disorienting sensation making his head spin. As he regained his bearings, he found himself standing in front of a beautiful house. It was a nice-looking three-story house, painted a vibrant red with elegant white window trims. The house was in pristine condition, and the yard was meticulously maintained, with neatly trimmed bushes scattered here and there.
His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of movement or activity. The night had fallen, casting long shadows that he effortlessly blended into, becoming one with the darkness. He floated effortlessly to the roof, his eyes scanning for the best point of entry. Peering through a small opening, he spotted an access point in the attic, one of his favorite places to infiltrate.
With practiced ease, he quietly opened the hatch, slipping inside the house without making a sound. The hatch closed behind him, sealing him off from the outside world. Moving silently and swiftly, he made his way through the house, his senses alert to any potential danger.
Meanwhile, as the evening settled in, I found myself lost in my thoughts. I contemplated the upcoming day and the loose schedule that awaited me. Nothing had been decided yet, and I felt a sense of calm indifference. Breeding season was upon us, but I had no desire to partake in it. The bitterness and need for revenge that had once consumed me had long been released. I was content living on my own, until the time came to rejoin the pack, perhaps even consider breeding or having pups of my own.
It wasn't that I had forgotten the horrors of my past, the imprisonment, and the torment I had endured. Those memories still lingered, but I had become adept at burying them deep within my mind. What troubled me now was not the pain I had experienced, but rather my own weakness. None of them had truly understood the immense struggle I faced when I had to admit that I couldn't break free on my own. It was a blow to my pride, a crack in the facade of strength I had meticulously built. Despite my skillful deception, I still wrestled with the question of why I hadn't been strong enough to save us. Perhaps age had caught up with me, or maybe my enemies had grown more formidable, surpassing my own abilities.
Suddenly, strong arms seized me, their firm grip pressing me against the cold, rough wall. I could feel Damon's hot, muscular body pressed against my back, the heat emanating from him. His fingers tightly held my wrists, rendering me unable to speak or resist.
Damon growled in my ear, his voice laced with dominance. "Let's get you under control, baby. You're about to learn some valuable lessons. You fell into my trap so perfectly, and this beautiful house will be the perfect home for our pack."
His energy restrained my arms behind my back, a spell rendering me immobile.
I instinctively opened my panels wider, hoping to absorb his magic and neutralize its effects, attempting to remain calm amidst the chaos. I felt him encircle my neck with something, and as the spikes pierced my skin, the collar seemed to meld with me, becoming a part of me. A surge of pain shot through my body as he inserted something into my pain and agony chakra, leaving me utterly paralyzed.
His voice, chilling and cruel, hissed near my ear, delivering unwelcome news, "That collar is biologically connected to you now. It contains electrical components, allowing me to control your pain and agony chakra remotely. We're leaving this place to focus on studying my creation, Mimi, with unwavering dedication. The collar is a perfect match, as I am your biological half."
His grip remained unyielding, his intentions clear. He forcefully sat me down on the sofa, and I felt the cuffs around my wrists growing tighter, their presence becoming more pronounced.
Damon smirked, his eyes cold and calculating, as he explained, "With this collar, I now have control over your rage. No more uncontrollable tantrums where reason fails to reach you. Calming you down will be effortless, but that's only the beginning. We have much more in store."
Damon's gaze pierced through me as he retrieved a bottle of medicine, a needle, and a syringe from his breast pocket, his intentions ominous and unsettling.
My pulse raced, pounding in my ears, as a cruel laughter escaped Damon's lips. "Yes, you'll be much calmer soon, missy," he taunted.
Frustration welled up inside me, and I channeled my anger, deliberately not allowing the damn medicine to take effect. Panic threatened to overwhelm me, but the spell held me captive on the sofa.
Damon studied me, as if considering the correct dosage, and uttered, "Let's start with this."
He held up the syringe, its contents still partially full. "You're not in the best shape, but let's see if this will suffice. You still have a whole organ, baby. By the way, did you know Mariela also possesses a similar organ and collar?"
With a swift motion, he drew around 7-9 milliliters of the wretched substance into the syringe, attaching a needle to it.
My shoulder muscle trembled as he injected the solution, and then he declared, "Well, time for a test."
He picked up a remote control and pressed a button. Electricity coursed through my body, causing me to arch in agony. My anger slipped from my grasp instantly. Waves of pain surged through me, almost eliciting a guttural moan. I had no control over my own body. Gradually, Damon reduced the current, and I realized that a slight electrical current inhibited my rage.
Minutes passed as I struggled to regain control, but my mind grew foggy, consumed by panic. I felt utterly helpless. The medicine took hold. My exhaustion increased, and my head began to droop. I fought with every ounce of strength I had, but it was not enough.
Damon's voice pierced through my haze. "Good girl, come here."
He lifted me onto his lap, my hands still restrained behind my back. Pressing my head against his neck, he unleashed his pheromones fully.
The medicine kept me in a stupor, and I simply listened as he instructed, "Just hold it, breathe deeply, hold it for a moment...very good."
I was disoriented, unsure of what had transpired. At some point, I realized I was in my bed, with Damon by my side, his pheromones enveloping me. The drug-induced daze intensified, a sense of helplessness washing over me. I couldn't do anything but inhale those damn pheromones, which offered no solace this time. Instead, my need for them only grew stronger, slowly consuming me. Sleep eluded me as I remained under the influence, forced to succumb to his pheromones. His anger and irritation permeated the air, evident in the scent of his pheromones.
Damon, consumed by his desire for dominance, continued to keep Mimi drugged, her senses overwhelmed by the potent scent of his pheromones. Unbeknownst to him, Mimi possessed an uncanny ability to detect and decipher the genuine emotions carried by these pheromones, her sense of smell sharper than any other member of their pack.
As he navigated through the house, a deep sense of irritation gnawed at him, fueled by Mimi's persistent thoughts of her own strength, a quality that infuriated him. Oblivious to the fact that Mimi could sense his irritation, anger, and even jealousy, Damon focused solely on his plan to keep her hooked on his pheromones.
Night after night, he would visit her, enveloping her in his intoxicating scent, rendering her vulnerable and dependent. He yearned for the moment when a specific pheromone would signal her addiction, and only then would he allow himself a brief respite with Mariela. Upon his return, he would teach Mimi the harsh reality of withdrawal, solidifying his power over her and hoping she would finally learn to trust and obey him.
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