บท 121: 1. Love Is All Around.
I was sitting in my chair, mesmerized by the last embers flickering in the fireplace. Salvatores and Wulfe had disappeared, off somewhere to perform magic or something, after putting the kids to sleep. Mariella and the wolves were engaged in conversation as they strolled around the castle, and Mariella enthusiastically shared everything about Christmas with them. Colin had gone with Murdock and Dexter to the medbay to check on them.
I was about to retreat to my bedroom, knowing that sleep was unlikely to come. Despite Alaric's assistance, something was always demanding my attention in Fleas. The scene was perfect, with the kids more relaxed after Damon had played with them, chasing and promising to take them outside tomorrow, even though I had denied it due to the cold and windy weather. Damon had become the good guy, while I willingly embraced the role of the bad guy. It had been enjoyable to witness Demon and the lepard engaging, meaning, seducing my four girls, including Adam and Charles, and even a few Salvatores.
I stood up, stretching myself, and slowly made my way back to my bedroom. Wulfe had been occupied with the pack, engrossed in conversations that either kept him away from me or sought his wisdom. In my bedroom, I undressed, placing my clothes neatly under my pillow on one of the chairs in the room. I retrieved my night dress from under my pillow on the bed. It had become a familiar comfort, perfect for several nights of reading. Despite Alaric's assistance, work always demanded my attention. It seemed that after the holidays, it would be time to dive back into work unless something else unexpectedly came my way.
I nestled into a comfortable position in bed, the soft sheets enveloping me as I reached for one of my laptops. The room was dimly lit, with a gentle glow emanating from the screen. As I began tackling the problems before me, I couldn't help but notice the long list from my clinic, but the thought crossed my mind that maybe Colin or several salvatores could help me with those. My focus shifted back to my work, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air as I took occasional sips.
Suddenly, my son Apollo walked into the room, wearing only his cozy pajamas. He crawled onto the bed and snuggled up next to me. His presence brought a sense of warmth and comfort.
Just as I was engrossed in my thoughts, he spoke up, his innocent voice breaking the silence, "Why did Daddy put you in a box where you got hurt?"
I let out a sigh, realizing that whatever Wulfe had done hadn't been enough to shield Apollo from the truth. It seemed he had caught glimpses of Damien's shed sessions, a testament to his telepathic abilities.
I gently reassured him, "It wasn't Daddy, it was his evil twin brother. Mommy took care of him a long time ago. He's gone for good, and mommy is fine."
Apollo remained quiet, processing the information before asking another question, "Why doesn't Daddy live with you? Why does he want to be with Mariella?"
I pondered for a moment, searching for the right words. "You see, adults can sometimes make mistakes, but I'm hoping to fix things between me and Daddy. However, nothing is certain in this world."
Apollo stayed by my side, observing me as I continued to work.
Curiosity filled his little mind as he inquired about my task. "What are you doing? What does it mean when you say 'I believe the best option would be a full-on assault using three teams simultaneously in all three targets in a synchronized manner'?"
I smiled at his inquisitiveness and explained, "Mommy is kind of like a superhero, and I have to plan my attacks. But how about we go to the kitchen for a little treat? I noticed your tummy rumbling, so you must be hungry. Afterward, we can watch some superhero movies."
His face lit up with excitement, and I had just the treat for him.
I had ordered a special porridge, made from little pearls of potato starch. It was a whimsical and fun porridge, not exactly ideal for me, but certainly not poisonous either. I had missed it, as the last time I had eaten it was when I was still human. I wanted to share this nostalgic experience with my son.
We walked into the warm, inviting kitchen, the scent of home-cooked goodness filling the air. I gently lifted Apollo onto the smooth, cool counter as I reached for a large pot. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a carton of full-fat milk and a stick of butter, the coldness of the fridge hitting my face.
Carefully measuring the right amount of milk, I poured it into the pot and placed it on the stove to simmer. I turned to Apollo, handing him a glass of ice-cold milk, the condensation causing tiny droplets to form on the glass.
As I stood there, I couldn't help but imagine the joy of baking gingerbread and other Christmas treats with the kids. The anticipation filled me with excitement.
Next, I measured out the potato pearls, their smooth texture slipping through my fingers. I added a pinch of salt, and saw the granules dissolved into the milk. I patiently waited for the milk to reach its boiling point, the gentle bubbling sound filling the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Damon had just returned from the gym with Wulfe and Magnum. After a quick shower, he was curious to see what Mariella was up to when he noticed the kitchen illuminated and heard voices. He walked in, finding Mimi near the stove, dressed in a long tee shirt that barely reached her mid-thigh.
Apollo, sitting on the counter, looked up at Damon and asked eagerly, "Mommy, what's this special treat? Is it almost done?"
Mimi's voice, as gentle as a summer breeze, replied, "Soon, my little one. It's a special pearl porridge. My mom used to call it frog spawn porridge."
Damon walked closer, intrigued. He playfully remarked, "What are you two cooking here? And why wasn't I invited to this pajama party?"
Apollo chimed in, "Mommy is making me a treat because my tummy is growling. My tummy is angry."
Damon raised his eyebrows, concerned for Apollo's skinny frame, his features resembling Mimi's except for his hair and eyebrows, which bore a resemblance to Damon's. He walked closer, a protective instinct taking over.
Apollo explained, "Mommy sleeps with me, but Wulfe carries me to bed. Mommy keeps the bad dreams away."
Just as I was about to add the pearls to the almost boiling milk, Damon came up behind me, wrapping his strong arm around my waist, and pulling me close. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, his firm, hot, muscular body pressing against my back.
He whispered into my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin, "Are you expecting, my baby, that I would allow you to eat whatever this is?"
I poured the pearls into the milk, stirring gently, adjusting the stove to a lower setting to prevent the milk from boiling over.
I handed him the packet, his eyes scanning the label, all the while maintaining his hold on me. I could feel myself being firmly pressed against his body, his desire evident in the form of his hard cock pressing against my back. Despite the distraction, I had to remain focused, reminding myself that I was a mommy now.
In my mind, I said to Damon, "Apollo is a telepath, but Wulfe put up some kind of blocker. However, he's still able to push through. He's been having dreams about Damien and shed sessions. I'm trying to distract him. Besides, he's hungry."
Damon whispered in my ear, "Don't worry, we'll help him. Now, my love, move aside. I'll make the porridge. You prepare some drinks, including cola for him."
I let out a sigh as he gently moved me aside and picked up the ladle, tasting the porridge. As I headed towards the fridge, I noticed Number Two and Mariella entering the kitchen.
Mariella telepathically said to me, "Telepath, huh? Poor guy. Well, Damon will soon taste his blood, and then I'll know what potion to make. Don't worry, Damon has him under control."
I nodded slightly, continuing to gather the drinks and snacks. I placed them on the table, where Number Two was fixing things.
He remarked, "You won't get to try that porridge, but good job finding some nice food for the kids. It'll give them the carbs they need. I'll have to order more. Keeps them going."
I sighed, disappointed that I wouldn't get to taste it again, but maybe someday. I had some more treats in the fridge, and since it wasn't mealtime, I decided to grab something lighter. I reached for my big bowl of fish soup, with plenty of butter, colorful pieces of potatoes, and onions. It was perfect.
Just as I was about to carry it, Mariella appeared in the fridge and said, "That's not something you should really eat, you know."
I replied, "This is just a midnight snack, not a proper meal. It'll do."
Mariella warned me, "Damon won't allow that. You better have one of your normal meals."
Defeated, I carried my bowl to my place, only for Damon to snatch it from in front of me. He had already given Apollo his bowl of porridge. I grudgingly went to get myself a wagyu beef meal. One day, I would have my treat.
Apollo sat at our table, eating his porridge with gusto and drinking Coke.
Damon, with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, asked him, "Do you often have bad dreams?"
Apollo glanced at Damon, then at me. I nodded, silently encouraging him to speak.
Finally, he responded, "Not too often, but why did you hurt mommy? Why did you put her in a box and make her suffer?"
Before I could explain, Damon shot me a sharp look and interjected, "It wasn't me. It was my evil twin, a nasty version of myself. But he's gone now. Just like you have brothers, I had brothers too, and they were bad. They're gone now, so don't worry. I'll help you. You see, my boy, you have the gift of telepathy. You can read minds, and somehow, you tapped into your mom's memories. She has been through a lot, but I'll temporarily pause that ability for you. When you're older, it will come back, and then you'll learn to control it. Telepathy is my gift to you, or perhaps a curse, depending on how you see it."
As I listened to their conversation, I continued eating, realizing that Damon was still getting used to being around these kids. He was still a little rough around the edges, meaning he was less diplomatic than I would have been. It was a learning curve for him, too.
The food on my plate was delicious as always, and after Apollo finished a big bowl of porridge, Damon turned to him and said, looking at me as I cleared my dishes, "I know you have some of mommy's blood, but would you like to see how daddy properly feeds on mommy? How mommy becomes daddy's prey?"
Apollo regarded me like a superhero, and I wasn't in the mood to be a meal. Salvatore, sensing my resistance or perhaps wanting to assert his dominance, stepped forward.
Apollo responded, "Yeah, but mommy won't be in pain, right?"
Damon reassured him, saying, "Mommy can handle it. Don't worry, this is what vampires do. Let me show you."
Before I could react, Damon approached me, gripping my hair and forcefully tilting my head to the side, exposing my throat. He smiled at Apollo, revealing his fully elongated fangs, and then he sank them into my throat. As he drank from me, eliciting gasps of pain, my moans and shudders were not from agony but from pure pleasure. My eyes rolled back into my head, overwhelmed with ecstasy, and my pussy oozed juices uncontrollably. I lost count of how many times I orgasmed as Damon finally released me, and I desperately clung to the counter, unsure if I could remain standing.
Damon walked over to Apollo, gently cradling him in his lap.
"Wanna have the same marks on your neck, like Mommy?" he whispered.
"Mimi, baby, come here and show our son your marks."
I could feel the slight ache of his fang marks on my neck, a mix of discomfort and acceptance. Approaching Apollo, I let him examine the twin punctures, his little fingers delicately touching them.
"Those look cool, Dad," he exclaimed. "Jake and Rob will be so jealous when I have these marks from a vampire."
Damon grinned and reassured him, "Don't worry, this won't hurt. I use special energy so you won't feel a thing."
Leaning in, he gently bit Apollo's neck, drawing out a small amount of blood. My son giggled, thinking it was just a tickle. Damon lifted his head, his fangs still stained red.
"You're tasty, you know that," he chuckled.
Apollo watched in awe, reaching out to touch the fangs and tasting the blood on his finger.
"I dunno, it didn't taste as good as Mommy," he remarked.
Damon nodded in agreement. "She is tasty. Now, wait here. I'll get you a smoothie as dessert."
He went to the fridge, searching for ingredients. As he handed Apollo a glass, my keen sense of smell detected something extra in it, but I knew it was for his telepathy control. I observed them for a moment, Apollo yawning and his eyes growing heavy.
Damon cradled him against his chest, assuring me, "Go on, I've got this. He'll be fine soon enough, nothing to worry about."
I nodded, slowly making my way back to the bedroom. I crawled to my bed and took my laptop. As I resumed my work, trying to avoid any holiday surprises, I reflected on the naturalness of it all. Mariella had even been there, with Damon and me as parents, guiding our son.
I absentmindedly touched my neck, still feeling the slight soreness from Damon's bite. Perhaps this was the first step in the right direction. The million-dollar question remained, as always: was Damon ready?
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