As I finally woke up, my mind felt a bit drugged, yet there was a peculiar sense of emptiness in my mind as if a great weight had been lifted. There was a lot less shit floating in my mind. I had no idea how he had done it, wondering if it had been some kind of vampire ritual for queens. Regardless, I found myself lying on top of Damon, who was naked and fast asleep beneath me.
Carefully, I rolled off him. I needed to go to the bathroom, and though I still felt a little dizzy, I managed to attend to my needs. Afterward, I decided to take a hot shower, hoping to cleanse myself physically as well.
I hadn't yet checked the time, unsure how long it had been or what the clock even read, but I was wide awake now and quite hungry. Thus, I decided to get dressed and head to the kitchen.
After donning a simple yellow t-shirt, loose black yoga pants, and my granny panties, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and twisted it into a knot. I walked into the kitchen and noticed it was 3 AM. Everyone else was sleeping, which was fine by me. The babies had their nurseries elsewhere, so my rattling did not wake them, and they were peacefully sleeping.
Opening the fridge, I searched for something to eat. I decided on some wagyu steaks, a bit of filled pork loin, horse meatballs, bechamel egg sauce, pan-fried pollock, and one of my cakes from the freezer. The cakes were rather small, and I planned to eat as much as I could, saving the rest for a later meal.
I soon had my breakfast prepared and was eating it. I had almost finished most of my meal, and my cake was thawing on the table, waiting for me. However, my portion had been quite large, so I wasn't sure how much more I could fit in.
Soft footsteps and the smell of apples told me that Charles was nearby. He soon walked in, put my cake back into the fridge, and sat opposite me.
"What's wrong, honey?" he asked.
I swallowed my food, washing it down with the rest of my coffee.
"Well, I'm not sure if anything is wrong, per se, but I'm just not sure," I replied.
He looked at me, smiling. "Tell me, what do you mean?"
"Well, Damon did something to me, and I'm not sure if it was good or bad; it's kind of a blur," I explained.
Charles simply asked, "Did it help?"
I nodded.
"So, it's good," he continued. "No need to overthink your mind if it was good or bad. If it helped, then it was good. KISS, my love."
I furrowed my brow, and Charles smirked, clarifying, "Keep It Simple, Stupid."
I raised my eyebrows but managed a small smile.
"Well, it kind of shook loose some memories," I began, "and not all of them are glorious. There was this one time – Damon was part of it, though he never knew the whole story. This happened before you came into my life."
Charles just sat there, waiting for me to continue. "I was in Milwaukee at the time. Damon was being Damon, doing whatever he does, and Adam had Bran making him deal with alphas or something. I went to do some solo gigs, mainly sniping. But as mercs always seemed to know about me, I got snatched."
I swallowed, trying to be brave and not skim over the not-so-nice parts. "I woke up in this place, in a cube. It had glass that turned transparent when people from the other side were near. I'd been studied for a week or two, I could tell. When I woke up, I was sitting on a cot, wearing a loose t-shirt and pants, no socks or shoes. It was a huge space, and there were cubicles, about a hundred or more, arranged in a circle."
My hand toyed with my fork as I looked down at the table, then lifted my eyes to meet Charles's dark brown ones. He was one of my husbands – one of fourteen – and he could sense when I wasn't alright.
"Then," I continued, "a door opened, and a flock of people came in. There was a doctor, or leader, wearing some kind of black jacket, pants, and dress shoes. He had slicked-back, greasy-looking black hair, and his facial features were thin and long. His eyes were kind of cruel, though I wasn't afraid. Next to him stood a tall, stocky man with an accent so thick I couldn't understand him. Then there was a woman, almost as tall, with a pinched face and huge, drooping breasts. She was some kind of CFO or something, rattling out numbers. We could hear them, but they couldn't see us until they were facing us."
I took a breath and continued, "Then there was someone who looked a bit like Santa – a long, bushy grey beard, a big mustache, and a booming voice with a big gut. But he wore an ill-fitting brown polyester suit, and he was a pharmacist. This leader was in a foul mood because they'd switched the drugs to cheaper ones while he was gone. The leader, as you can imagine, had three obese bimbos hanging on him, cooing and crooning as he started to go through the females. These hussies weren't sparing their opinions."
My voice was steady, even as I reached the less pleasant parts of my story. I was brave, and Charles could take it. Maybe this would help me too.
"He finally reached me. The hussies had called me a skeleton, a flat-chested freak, while the leader chose tall, curvy ones as breeders. He was a vampire, and his chosen mates were mostly human. He came to my cube, said not a word, and pressed a code to enter. Before I could react, he fired a dart at me. Romidifine. My mind began to muddle, and I couldn't muster my rage due to the massive dose. He yanked me up; my legs barely supported me, but he used a spell to keep me upright, then he undressed me."
I looked at the table, my mouth damn dry. Taking a sip of orange juice, I hoped it would help me continue. Charles's hand was fisted, his expression tighter, but he controlled himself. I mustered on, feeling somehow dirty even though this happened well over a century ago. I had never told anyone about this, not even Jake.
"The next thing I felt was him thrusting his dick into my pussy. I was dry, so it hurt, but he just kept fucking me, not saying anything, only groping me, grunting, and finally coming. He used some dark hex to move his sperm to my womb."
Charles's eyes were almost black with rage.
"Is he still alive?" he asked, "If he is, he won't be long after this time is over."
"I did not kill him," I replied.
Charles nodded. "And then what?"
He oozed danger, and I was unsure if I should continue or see if Mariella was free; he seemed pretty damn tense.
My voice was quiet as I kept telling my story to Charles. "After he had done his deed, he hit me with 2 mg of carfentanil, dumping me on the cot, out cold on my back. He carried on; he did not choose me specifically—I was just a warm hole for him to use, a way to blow off some steam. The dose was so brutal that it hit me hard—I vomited, inhaled, and my vitals were tanking. Since he didn't choose me, I was logged as a medical patient, and soon a team of medics got me into the ward and tried to stabilize me. My vomit is about five times more corrosive than a human's, and my lungs are sensitive. I had overdosed; things were going badly. They kept me on a ventilator for three days before waking me up. I had a brutal fever—108 degrees or something. They gave me carpofen to lower it, which worked somewhat. My lungs had only 11 percent capacity left, and the overdose had stopped my healing; my blood was full of toxins. "
Charles' expression was firm as he tried to control himself, but I could feel his urge to take me, carry me to bed, and make it all go away. Still, he was not telepathic, so I just kept telling my story.
"I stayed there for two weeks until I regained enough strength to fake it 'til I made it. I didn't want to blow up my rage because they were truly trying to help me, so I suffered in silence. Eventually, I got myself discharged and went back to base, working and trying to hide my condition. Even though my lungs had less than 30 percent capacity, I still had fevers from time to time, aches, and weighed about 30 kilos. Then, after being at the base for a week or two, Damon showed up—flank version—and came to my office. He took one good look at me and said, 'You look like shit.' That's about the last thing I remember. The next time I woke up, I was in Chicago—fed, healed, though still physically weak. I then had a five-week stint of bedtime action with Damon, who gave me passionate physiotherapy, followed by some heat therapy in the Azores."
I was a bit surprised when Charles rose up, came to me, and yanked me to my feet, kissing me very passionately. I kissed him back, but soon I got pretty confused as he nibbled my lip. Only when I tasted a slight sweetness, like apple, in my mouth did I realize he had velveted me. My legs gave out, and my mind shut down before I had the chance to hide the memory.
As Mimi began to tell her story, Charles remained quiet. He grew increasingly angry as she continued, and he reached for Damon.
Feeling that he was awake, Charles said, "Damon, snatch this story from my mind and tell me she is fine, that she doesn't have this shit floating around in her head."
A slight buzz was felt, and soon Damon's velvety, silky voice replied, "Kiss her, but use your velvet. I am coming. Don't let her have any idea what you're doing, so she can't hide it. That trash will be gone, and oh my god, when that shithead answers for his deeds. No one, I mean no one, rapes my wife and gets away with it. Justice will be served."
Charles was now holding his limp, sedated wife in his arms as Damon walked in.
"Come on," Damon said, "bring her to the bedroom. I'll make sure there's no trace of that shit in her mind. Wulfe will handle backup once I get the memory snatched. Wulfe isn't happy either."
Charles asked, "One question? How did you know to go to the base?"
Damon smiled, "I was just done with one round of interrogations and wasn't sure if I should take the next gig when Jake called my work phone. I had given him my number for emergencies, and he said to me, 'Salvatore, Mimi just walked in after being off comms for 18 weeks. She was supposed to be doing sniping, but she only took out 12 targets and then there was no contact. She's thin as a rail, breathing very poorly, has a fever, and barely eats. Her hands are bruised, as if cannulated, and I'm worried she's going to collapse. So, if you would kindly come, take a look, and stay to reassure me there's nothing to worry about, as she very cleverly got Colin to go to Europe and Samuel is battling yet another infection. We don't have any Mimi medics here.' So I went and checked her out. She weighed 25 kilos, her lungs weren't really working, and she had a fever of 106 when I stepped in. I flanked her, took her to Chicago, and Samuel and Colin came there too. It took four weeks for us to get her anywhere stable enough for me to feed her. I had no idea about the rape, and she had been imprisoned for 10 weeks, not just a few weeks as she told you. They had studied her, written reports, and I just wanted to care for her, not deal with that place. I got a few snippets, but not the entire story. She had hidden it too well, but now it's coming out."
Charles nodded. For him, Mimi's happiness, her well-being, and her love were the most important things in his life. If it took Damon to grant her that, so be it. He would still have time to be with her; they had plenty of time left in this pocket universe.
Gently, he lowered Mimi to bed, smiling at her and knowing that their future would be brighter and better for all of them. It would be time to have fun and live as a family, embracing everything that came with it, and then some. Their future would be filled with love, arguments, raising children, and simply being a family.
Moreover, Charles wanted to teach Mimi one crucial lesson: it was okay to need help, okay to be weak, and there was no need to hide. She should simply let others assist her as much as they can. He walked away, leaving the telepaths to do their work for his beloved. He desperately wanted the pain pressing on his heart to disappear—a pain that stemmed from Mimi and the weight of her past.