The Salvatore Saga, Part Four: My new Life

There was very little in my life right now that made sense. I was trapped, feeling terror, fear, and pain. A chilling voice whispered in my ear, causing pain to surge through my body. These sensations, along with the hot rush of blood in my veins, were the only things my drugged-up brain could comprehend.

Sometimes the voice was gentle and soothing, and with this heartbeat, its rhythm calmed me down. However, it didn't stop the pain; sometimes it even made it worse. I had no memory of where I was, who I was, or what had been done to me. I felt trapped, scared, and weak. I was a helpless victim, unable to move even an inch, only able to feel the pain.

When I managed to open my eyes, I could see very little, as the room was almost completely dark. My vision was blurry, and I could smell the scent of my own blood, my pain, and my confusion. Sharp pains struck my belly and sides, while a chilling voice informed me that my heart had just been broken. I had no heartbeat, and the only sound I could hear was his.

Just before my strength completely faded away and darkness overtook me, a small part of my mind realized that he had never been this brutal before. He was using every means possible against me, but not in a traumatizing way. Then the darkness came, relieving the pain.

Damon stepped away, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead without caring that there was a smear of Mimi's blood on his face. It was his war paint. His chest rose and fell with excitement, almost trembling. He felt a sense of utter freedom, something he had never experienced before.

He had certainly done some work on Mariella, but this was different. When he had worked on Mariella, he had taught her a lesson about her powerlessness against him. Now, as his vampire wife, she needed something more. The rush and ecstasy he felt during his ritual with Mimi freed a part of his soul.

Considering how strong she was, he had pushed himself as far as he could. She had been right. He had been weak and had seen her as a victim. As she had shared that memory fragment from the shed session, he had directed it to Wulfe, who was busy making potions to help them locate certain places. She had given Wulfe exactly what he needed. Wulfe would be able to find the signature of that memory once he spoke with Mimi about it. But not yet. 

Oh, how calm and content a baby would be on the last day of the wedding, feeling a bit sore, but still peaceful. And then, there was one more night left. He eagerly waited for her to wake up. She had endured a lot, but remained in excellent shape. Damon found himself sweaty, overcome with pleasure, releasing a part of himself in the process.

The heat was no longer important. This side of him had completely shut off his lustful desires, and he finally understood the three sides of being a vampire. There was lust, which he embodied as an energy creature. There was power, as he was the vampire king. And then, there was death or darkness, which represented this side of him.

Now, he allowed this side to fulfill itself. He wanted others to experience this too, so he had the Salvatores working on the wolves, Mariella, Elena, and Katherine. They even attacked Adam and Charles. Damon wasn't currently concerned about Mimi's different sides. Although she had her own complexities, it was his time now. His nights of passion and pleasure, with only the Salvatores knowing what had transpired.

It had been perfect. The few hours he spent with Mariella, along with the memory snippet he obtained, burned in his mind. He realized that he had been weak and soft. But there was nothing wrong with being vulnerable when the time was right, except that he had nearly ruined the entire wedding.

However, there was no changing the past. The media presence had increased, and Damon had strategically sent several messages. On the last day, when he would reveal his power to the world, there would be witnesses. Their love and his dominance over her would be featured in every magazine.

He made sure the Salvatores had enough motivation to ensure that Adam and Charles felt this as well. As for the heat, it might take a few days before it fully set in, but by then, this side of him would be satisfied and content. It would be time to indulge his lustful desires.

And after the heat, in Vermont, it would be absolutely perfect. But then again, maybe they could start anew in a completely different place. He would have to review Mimi's assets list, conduct thorough interrogations, and then select a new castle or large mansion to settle in.

They would create a family, have babies, and it would be entertaining to raise those children. They would see who takes after whom and keep the entire pack busy.

Katherine and Elena were only having cubs, not babies, at least not yet. He wanted to observe the cubs that his royal concubines would have, but he was also eagerly awaiting the growth of his and Mimi's babies.

As he daydreamed, his attention was drawn to a slight rustling sound. Mimi, who was hanging from the ceiling by her hands, moved. Damon's hand tightened on the handle of a large machete, dried blood staining it.

A wicked smirk curved his lips as he said, "Awake, are we darlin'? Let's continue then..."

The machete struck mercilessly, causing blood to spray in an arc. Mimi's face contorted with drugged disbelief and a pulse of mental fear and terror flooded her mind, giving off a scent that Damon loved, reminiscent of overripe strawberries.

I woke up, still bloody and in pain, finally in bed. I had no idea how many times I had fainted, only to be woken up by pain, fear, and terror. The room reeked of my fear, my blood, and other bodily fluids.

I could feel Damon sitting next to me, pulling the wound close and using only a tiny amount of blood to heal my skin, not the internal damage. This meant that while I would heal, it would take time and I would be sore as hell, heavily drugged.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I started to remember the events of the previous day. After Damon had walked away, I had walked, talked, and eaten. Since it was close to evening, I had been waiting for karaoke time, but it was canceled due to a broken machine. Not that many people cared, as top artists were performing.

It had been one of my plans to sing with some artists, but that didn't happen. And then my memory became more foggy. I remembered drinking my wine and feeling slightly confused, and Damon had been there, bringing me more. Of course. I had challenged him, and he had responded with a display of his power.

His dangerous voice whispered a series of threats as he turned me over to heal my back, which had been struck multiple times by the machete and other weapons. "You know, baby, it is still possible to kill or damage Charles's vampire side. I have also created a kind of vampire potion from my fangs. Want me to give it to Wulfe? Imagine the chaos he could cause, or how it would affect him. Better behave, darlin', or I might consider turning Tim and Taylor into hybrids and moving them to other realms as new breeding males. Then you would never see them. Or perhaps you wouldn't want Miss Parker to become a widow. Believe me, killing Jarod is no problem. He would make a pretty tasty meal."

I took a deep breath, knowing that this last day and night would be difficult and harsh. However, I had no other option but to behave, keep my pheromones in check, and remain silent to avoid giving him any reason to harm anyone.

After he had healed me, he carried me to the bath. It was a herbal bath, infused with his energies to make it extra hot. I felt like I was boiling, and he patiently waited, ensuring I wouldn't slip under the water. The bath was filled with a variety of herbs, whose scents had changed after they were dried and turned into powder. I had no visual clue to identify them.

The water had turned red, reminiscent of our original vampire wedding. He changed the water three times until every last trace of dried blood was gone from my skin, and I was left smelling of those herbs.

As he helped me out of the bath, wrapped me in a robe, and seated me on a bench, he administered puffs from my flank organ, which he had implanted into my spine.

It was hard to believe that he had created a fully biological reservoir organ inside my spinal canal, filled with a potent sedative derived from his own tissues. Through gene therapy, it had become a part of my biological makeup, just another organ in my body. Of course, he was the only one with the remote control to that organ.

He softly muttered to himself, "Yeah, those braids were a good choice, but let's see if I can make them a bit fancier. These strands deserve to be celebrated."

His fingers worked skillfully through my hair, providing a comforting sensation. Though I was heavily sedated, I couldn't comprehend which room I was in or whether I had decorated it. I had no idea about the color of the curtains. I was too disoriented.

He continued to style my hair, and then a sudden hot pain shot through my neck as he bit my makeup, creating precise points. He looked at my face in the mirror, adjusting some shades to be lighter or darker. It felt as though he had taken a chunk out of half my throat and neck.

Finally, it was time for my dress. This time, it was black silk, hugging my body and falling just above my knees. I didn't pay much attention to the details of the dress. I could feel the softness of the silk against my skin, and I caught a glimpse of my bright blue nails. I was wearing high-heeled bright yellow pumps, ensuring I was at a suitable flanking height. 

He looked at me with happiness in his eyes, fully dressed after using his magic, or perhaps he had gotten dressed at some point—I couldn't tell. Time seemed irrelevant. This time, there was no jelly, only the substance he injected into my organs.

As we walked out, a sharp pain pierced my side as the injection sank into my lungs. My mind quickly became blurry. We entered the dining hall to have breakfast once again, but this time, he lovingly fed me. There were even more reporters now, and the camera flashes filled the room. He made it appear as though I was deeply in love with him.

Throughout the breakfast, he mentally sent a steady stream of threats to me, so I maintained my role, being perfect for him and not allowing any stray thoughts. This was simply my life now, and he had become more self-assured since his time with Mariella.

With me, he brought his A-game, staying alert at all times because I was not easily controlled. But it was fine. I had been in situations like this before, but I didn't dwell on that. Now was not the time. I needed to behave and focus solely on what my loving husband would do to me next or what our next move would be.

We walked, he spoke with reporters, and as one of them recounted the story of how we met, he clarified numerous points, making it sound like a fantastical dream come true. How the prince, now king of vampires, found his queen. When the reporters began asking questions about vampire society, he directed them to speak with numbers six and eight, assuring them they would be knowledgeable on the topic.

We sat in a quiet corner, a little further away. I had just been given a mega dose of sedative, so my thoughts were all over the place.

But then I heard a gentle voice in my ear asking, "Darlin', tell me, what did you and Adam talk about yesterday? Was there something troubling you?"

I managed to reply, "It's not important right now, just some trivial matters. But he did share a bit more about his past with me. His journey has been quite difficult, too."

The voice persisted, "Why don't you share it with me, darlin'? Come on, tell me."

It was hard to resist, and I mumbled, "This damn drug makes me talk..."

Damon chuckled and said, "That's what it's meant to do. But come on, tell me."

In my mind, I replied to him, "He told me why he had been Bran's loyal follower for so long. After Bran took him in, after what happened with his wife, after she died, Adam struggled to control his wolf. Bran, who was himself unstable, took Adam to his pack, and they traveled through Europe, eventually arriving in the USA."

It didn't take me long to continue the story, but then another infection hit my lungs, causing me to lose focus. Damon was relaxed, as he encouraged me to keep going.

My mind continued, lacking any will of its own. "Well, Bran wanted power and Adam wasn't very good with English, so he taught him the language, along with the other wolves. Adam was a fast learner, and it was clear he was an alpha. Bran didn't want to lose him. He hadn't kept an eye on Samuel for a long time, and as for Charles, well, he was doing his own thing. As you know, Charles is as old as you, but Bran was never really there for him. If he got into trouble, he had to find his way out. But with Adam, Bran saw a better opportunity than with Samuel or Charles. Samuel was a healer, and Charles reminded Bran too much of what he had lost."

Damon looked at me and said, "You're good at getting them to open up. It's useful to have you around to gather information. Fascinating story, but go on, what happened?"

I continued, "Bran had one problem: how to keep Adam by his side. Adam was a stranger, an alpha wolf, and there was always the danger of him starting his own pack. So Bran devised a plan. Adam didn't know this at the time, or for a long time, but when he acquired my ability to be a pretender, he discovered the truth. It explains why Bran isn't around here much."

Damon nodded and said, "Fine, go on. Let's see if I have a reason to turn against Bran, too. God knows he's done terrible things to you over the years, but if he's done it to others as well."

I continued with my story, our conversation taking place in hushed voices as I leaned happily against Damon, my drugged posture evident even to an outsider, his expression filled with love, just like mine. 

My inner voice was sluggish as I struggled to think clearly despite the heavy influence of potent sedatives. "There was a hunt near Montana in the winter. It had snowed heavily, but Bran had been there before and knew a few places where the wolves needed to be cautious, unless they wanted to end up swimming in icy water in the middle of the frozen lake. However, he didn't tell Adam or the other wolves. As the hunt began, tensions rose and Bran cleverly drove a large moose towards the edge of the lake. Just as one female was about to catch the moose, Adam, still being of a prick, intercepted her and snatched the moose away. He tumbled into the icy river, just like I did back then. But there was no log or anything for Adam to hold on to."

Damon looked at me and asked, "So Bran set Adam up? What happened next? How did he gain Adam's loyalty?"

I replied, "Well, Bran knew the river and the lake like the back of his hand. He knew that a little further downstream, there was a shallow area where he could easily rescue Adam. However, by the time he reached that point, Adam would be hypothermic, exhausted, and unable to continue much longer. Bran had killed wolves like this before, not saved them, and there were still skeletons at the bottom of that lake. So when Adam finally reached that critical point, Bran made it appear as if it was a last-minute rescue and pulled him out. But he made Adam pledge his loyalty in exchange for saving his life, ensuring that Adam wouldn't have a pack of his own unless he allowed it."

Damon shook his head and said, "That's a cruel business. But Adam eventually did have his own pack, right?"

I nodded and said, "Decades, maybe centuries later, it became clear that Adam wasn't exactly what Bran had hoped for. But Charles had transformed into what Bran needed, so he allowed Adam to have his pack and focused on gaining control over Charles and Samuel as well."

Damon nodded, deep in thought about my story, but never forgetting to monitor and flank me. sedatives kept on coming into my lungs. It was a part of our history, like many things in our lives, and the past still harmed us from time to time. There was nothing we could do about it. Absolutely nothing. 

Damon was an old creature who had surely witnessed some rough stuff in his time. I was completely drugged up for the rest of the day, unable to understand much of anything. I overheard him telling others that Bran was still not accepted by our pack, and I also heard number ten sharing a story with the wizards. Adam stood there, his posture rigid, but it seemed like he had no choice but to affirm it. It appeared that Bran's reputation was taking another hit.

However, it was soon time for Bran to face the consequences and start anew. He had the opportunity to tell his story, to make amends for his wrongs, and perhaps redeem himself.

This was last night, as the guests were leaving, and the castle was emptying. The catering had given them food to take home, as the Salvatores wanted our freezer to only contain the food made by the pack.

I sat there, barely awake, as Damon forced me to drink six large tequilas, which intensified the effects of the drugs in my body. It was clear that my memory would be hazy, if not nonexistent, so the pleasure would be all Damon's.