We went to the parking garage. Damon walked to my car. First; it was a gold Tesla, all-electric and convertible; I had my own covered parking space. I was surprised to see Adam walking towards us. Damon opened the back door of his SUV and helped me inside. He put my hands in the silver handcuffs in front of me and me in the middle seat. He grabbed my bag and went to talk to Adam. Adam looked up with a stern expression and saw Murdock standing nearby. After a moment, Murdock joined the men, and I couldn't hear what they were talking about.
Damon now directed his wife, whom he had put into a suitably calm frame of mind, to his car after seeing this luxurious convertible. He had earlier told Adam to come and get into Mimi's car and meet Murdock. He had told Adam about the spies in Mimi's organization, how hard Sark was chasing Mimi, and how competent Murdock would be in other things. Damon had also told him what kind of colleague Mimi had been with, making Adam jealous.
Once Mimi was securely strapped in the plush leather seat of his car, her eyelids heavy with sedation, Damon walked over to the men who were handling Mimi's elegant gold-colored Tesla.
He turned to Adam and remarked, "That's the lady's car, a sleek, gleaming Tesla, its electric engine humming softly. Here's her bag. Look and do what needs to be done."
Murdock watched the proceedings with a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. With just a quick glance, he could tell that Mimi was nearly unconscious, the effects of Damon's little syringes clear. He chose not to interfere, understanding that this was Damon's way of protecting Mimi, even if it meant resorting to drug her.
Adam glanced at Murdock for a moment and introduced himself, saying, "Adam Hauptman, I don't believe we've met before."
Murdock extended his hand and replied, "Murdock, a pleasure to meet you. You both are incredibly fortunate to have Mimi. She is an extraordinary creature, and if I were capable of feeling anything, she would be the perfect woman for me. You two fools cannot appreciate what you have, but rest assured, I will watch things. If you slip up, I will ensure Mimi's safety. She can trust me. My instincts guide me, not my desires."
Adam nodded and said, "Now that I'm free, I can assist with the remaining tasks with the fleas. We can head to the base, and I can catch up on everything."
Murdock grinned and responded, "Sounds like a plan, but there are new protocols in place. Some matters are solely in Mimi's hands, and she delegates as necessary. All designated reports go to her, and only her, initially."
Damon grumbled, "Alright, I'll see what I can do about it. But Mimi's phone is in the bag; see if that helps."
Murdock chuckled and explained, "It has fingerprint recognition, just like her laptop. Burt and Billy have revamped everything."
Adam furrowed his brow and asked, "Who are they?"
Murdock answered, "Mimi's top-notch hackers. One is Ben Shaw's son, Burt. He's been in the business for over a year. The other is Billy, the epitome of hacking expertise."
Adam pondered for a moment. He had never maintained contact with Ben's wife or son, but Mimi clearly had. Perhaps it was time to get to know Burt better.
Murdock concluded, "Alright, count me in for the ride. Let me know the destination; we have new secret bases, so there's a fresh one to explore." Adam simply grunted in response.
Damon said, "Hold on a second."
Damon walked to his car, the sun shining brightly overhead, and opened the trunk, the metallic click echoing in the air. He retrieved a sports bag, its fabric rough against his fingertips. Then he reached for a slightly larger jar, the glass cool and smooth and a scalpel, its sharp edge glinting under the sunlight. With a steady hand, he opened the jar's lid, the scent of metal filling his nostrils, and slit his wrist, a searing pain shooting through his arm. The jar quickly filled with his crimson blood, the liquid swirling within.
He followed, his footsteps crunching on the gravel, and approached the open tailgate. Opening the other back door, he glanced at Mimi, her body tense with anticipation. Adam felt a surge of pain through their mating bond, a fiery sensation that raced through his veins.
Damon's gaze met Murdock's surprised expression before he turned his attention back to Adam.
He handed the jar to him, their fingers brushing for a moment, and said, "There's Mimi's index finger now, the one you need to open her phone and machine. My blood will preserve it for a while, allowing you to make the changes. Mimi has already regrown a new one."
Adam nodded, his heart pounding in his chest, as he retrieved his keys, gun, and wallet from Mimi's bag. The wallet's leather texture was familiar under his touch. He placed the items on the center console, the cool surface contrasting with the warmth of the car's interior. Murdock climbed into the vehicle, the door creaking slightly as he settled in. Damon observed as Adam skillfully backed the car out of the driveway, the engine humming softly.
As they drove away, the scenery blurred outside the window, the world passing by in a blur of colors. Damon's eyes remained fixed on the retreating car, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. Everything was just as it should be. Adam would be occupied for the next few weeks, immersing himself in the intricacies of Mimi's changes. This would allow Damon to be with Mimi, his one and only wife, without Adam's presence looming nearby.
Damon waited patiently, his anticipation growing, the knife heavy in his hand. He could almost feel the weight of it sinking into Mimi's flesh, repeatedly. The new substances in his teeth ensured that her memory would be erased, leaving her sore but devoid of any recollection. The memories would belong solely to him.
I was taken aback, my mind struck by Damon's presence like a sudden bolt of lightning. He cut through my thoughts, invading my memories of how I accessed my phone and laptop. Then, he mercilessly severed my right index finger, placing it in a container filled with blood. With a sinister mood lingering, he carried the container and approached Adam.
Moving towards the rear of the car, he reached out and pushed my seat down, tilting me on my back. Still, under the influence of drugs, I struggled to comprehend how to remain seated as everything unfolded rapidly. He forcefully lifted my restrained hands with handcuffs over my head, securing them to a hook on the car floor.
Taking the gym bag with him, he reentered through the side door, lifting my shirt to expose my upper stomach. Skillfully, he made an incision and inserted a tube deep into my abdominal cavity. He was attaching the purple jelly from the bag to the car roof. It hung above me. Gradually, the jelly trickled inside, as Damon carefully massaged it into my abdomen. The sedative jelly soon began clouding my mind even further. It differed from the previous one I had received.
"Darling, this contains nutrition as well, not just a drug. I promised to take care of you," he said reassuringly, after pouring several liters of jelly into my abdomen, creating a distinct sensation.
My stomach swelled from the substantial amount of jelly, although it was not as unpleasant as the orange version he had previously used. Removing the tube, he lifted me and adjusted my seat to an upright position, ensuring I remained sufficiently sedated.
Yes, I was. He left my hands cuffed, fastened my seatbelt, and then we set off.
He rubbed my stomach and could feel the jelly inside, whispering, "You'll consume it quickly, darling. I'm already providing some help for your nutritional needs. On our way, I've included vitamins, minerals, and energy. Let's begin with that."
The journey home was a hazy blur. I was heavily sedated, and my senses dulled as we embarked on the long drive. The hours stretched on, but I didn't mind, lost in a medicated fog. Throughout the journey, I had four re-gels, their purpose a mystery to me. Was it the feeding, perhaps? Or was it about control? I couldn't be certain.
At each stop, he would tilt my seat back, a tender and strange gesture. Then, a bag of jelly would be produced, its contents lovingly massaged into the depths of my abdomen. The jelly seemed to dissolve quickly, leaving me unsure if I had even drifted into sleep. Eventually, we arrived at our destination, the darkness of night enveloping us, a stark contrast to the day we had left behind.
He parked the car and carried me inside, my heavily medicated state making me nearly unconscious. I lay down on the couch, my clothes replaced by a dress. I was then lifted onto his lap, his hands still rubbing with the remnants of jelly inside my abdomen, as he continued to stroke and soothe me. The rhythmic motion lulled me into a deep slumber.
Morning arrived, and I awoke in the same place. The sensation of jelly entering my body persisted, accompanied by a sharp sting. Damon held a large syringe, its contents being slowly injected into my stomach. Confusion filled my mind. What was the purpose of waking up if I would only be numbed by the jelly once again? The soreness in my ribs and stomach confirmed the physical toll this ordeal had taken on me. I had been stabbed and long.
Speech eluded me, my voice silenced. I had no recollection of what had transpired, but the lingering ache in my body served as a painful reminder. Damon's skilled hands found the tender spots, causing me to writhe in agony within his grasp. The syringe remained lodged in my stomach, a constant presence.
We would spend hours on the couch, his hands never ceasing their rubbing. Occasionally, he would guide me to the dining table, but my meals were limited, as he whispered softly in my ear, "Darling, I know you are quite sore still. It will be that way for quite a while.."
The couch became our refuge, a place where I succumbed to sleep each night, only to wake up with different clothes and a body ravaged by pain. I was being drugged, being in Damon's arms.
Days turned into a blur, the agony intensifying. He refrained from taking me out to eat, instead focusing on rubbing and feeling the jelly inside me, a painful reminder of my state. Sometimes, he would introduce his own blood or a nutrient solution into my body. There were sporadic moments of being washed, but my memory remained a complete void.
Damon would whisper, "My little toothy stuff won't let you remember, only feel, but darling, yes, you can scream and be loud..." His voice was so fucking enjoyable, but when this was just the darling side of the game. He completely dominated me. I felt Damon in my head all the time, searching, probing, helping if there was some nightmare he was feeling. Now, he didn't purr at all.
He jellied, held me in his arms, and every fucking night he stabbed. I didn't even think about why question when I knew he had his own ways and his own will, and he was now taking his pleasures and whatever he was looking for in my mind.
I'd been hiding my memories well, but I could see that they had been obscured. I wondered at one point when I was a bit more conscious how the fuck.
He murmured in my ear, "Do you remember darling the purr, how it went deep into your head, I used it to get into your little cache of memories, and I had another technique but my toothy stuff guarantees you won't remember a thing about it. "
I didn't know what the bloody technique was. My head was so fuzzy again at that point.
Damon was pleased. He stroked Mimi. He kept her drugged, and at night, he worked. He stabbed for about 12 hours, allowing himself the pleasure and weakening the volcano, but then when Mimi woke up, he let her be in bed, in a strange place alone, and fall asleep so that the nightmares would happen, but this time he got to where Mimi was.
He used his telepathy to send her back to her mind with Bertie Higgins' Casablanca, his love so that the nightmares didn't get the full upper hand, and he also used it to go to a whole new place in her mind where the nightmares were, and he dispelled them.
He had seen how Murdock and the others had protected her; he had seen how even Rob had drugged her to sleep. When he had first adventured in her head, there were also a bunch of other memories too, and if her colleagues were prepared to do so much for her, then it was high time that he, the husband, the strong fucking telepath, did his bit.
He was her doctor, and he had every right to do so. Now, there was no point in her arguing or trying to be angry about it. He just did what he had to do, and his soul sang every time he got the nightmares down.
But then he'd been treating her for three weeks, and he'd meant to stay with her, but he saw such incontrovertible proof that he was a monster that he couldn't stay. Mimi had been in the facility, and he had walked in, wearing the doctor's coat, stroked her, and put her to sleep, and he had felt her hair in his hands, the stopper on her IV, and he remembered whispering in her ear, "when I'm not Damon.."
He had no recollection of that, but the sensations that had come through had been too much. He took Mimi to the master bedroom after the last violent night, leaving his phone and wallet when one vampire reported the problem. In theory, he could have delegated it to the others, but now he was using it as an excuse to leave. He needed to think this through. Trying to get some memory through, why the fuck he'd been working for Sark? It wasn't fucking good at all. He left Mimi a bunch of roses and a note but said nothing more about it. If he could find some memory of why he'd been there, he was sure that Mimi's memory was genuine.