As I was in the kitchen preparing dinner, Ashley walked in. "What's for dinner, Mom? Do you have anything to snack on? I'm starving. Fucking hell, those little bitches can drain me," she said, referring to our snakes.
They were difficult to handle—fast-moving and growing rapidly. We had retic babies, and we needed to find suitable living spaces for each of them while also putting them up for sale. Then, everyone would send messages with questions before buying. Ashley, Britney, and May were the ones answering the messages, while I primarily cooked for us and the babies.
I had gotten us a book called "101 Before First Birthday for Supernaturals," which guided us. It was based on the idea that babies would have tasted 101 different foods before their first birthday. It was fun, but it also required planning as we were starting to craft our family life, which meant eating at the same time and, if possible, the same food.
I needed to eat a certain way, while the girls could be a little more flexible, although they also had limitations. For the babies, this was a rehearsal.
It had been five weeks already, and as mentioned, they were now experiencing vampire heat. Mariella would be fully used and in control once they were done; that was my plan, anyway. We had a routine for caring for them, which was fun. It would have been less stressful if the babies hadn't all regressed in their sleep simultaneously. Feeding was a messy business, but they had so much fun.
I opened the fridge and handed Ashley a cup of meatballs, cheese, some fruit, and a jug of smoothie mix. "Try those. The fruit might whet your appetite, and you'll be asking for more soon. But if our eight need us, we won't have time to eat just yet," I said.
She hugged me and kissed my cheek. "You're the best mom. I don't want to go away when those fuckers return."
I rolled my eyes and said, "I'm not going anywhere, and who knows, we'll see where we are once they get here."
Britney also entered, equally hungry. She kissed me, a new experience, but I was beginning to embrace my role as a creature of love, understanding that giving love begets love. My affection and willingness to be called "Mom," my care for them, fostered their love for me as well.
While I could see how this might anger Mariella, she was, after all, a creature of lust. She, too, had her purposes, and I suspected she was partially created for me, albeit in a draining way. I had drained into her such strong stuff. It was undeniably hard, and I wanted it to stop, but I had unleashed such a profound shift from somewhere deep within, it brought clarity. Perhaps this clarity would become even more pronounced.
As for the rest of the pack, there are certainly hidden wisdoms, but their actions, or lack thereof, would reveal more than their words. Currently, if my absence doesn't affect Damon, it's evident that my presence never mattered to him. This was just another wound to heal.
But love, a freaking powerful force, kept me going, making me stronger each day. I was here, learning my new power, the power of love. It was time for me to understand the usefulness of being a creature of love, focusing on tangible actions rather than simply needing someone to say they loved me. Love can be shown in so many ways, and the more I used my new power, the better I became at it.
As I was cooking, May walked in. "What's for dinner? I'm hungry, but I can wait."
I said. "Turkey, rice, meatballs, and wagyu for me, bechamel, bearnaise, and hollandaise, cream sauce too. I have a bit of moose left and its juices if you want, and salad, of course."
She hopped on the counter, watching me make the meatballs. I was combining wagyu, pork, alligator, and some mixed birds, lacing the dough with lard. We would deep-fry them in tallow and coat them with nuts, panko, and a touch of corn.
May then said, "Come on, I'm ready for today's lesson. Let's go."
We had a game where I had to speak in fancy words, as elaborate as I could invent. She would try to decipher my meaning, a game we often played with others. We had many such games, and I loved my life. I wasn't bothered by the men being away. While chaotic at times, when things rolled exactly as they should, I almost hoped the men would stay away a few more days.
As the girls settled in, I started crafting my sentence. I'd taught them many new words, so this required considerable thought. This was a particularly enjoyable game; we'd played different versions, such as using sentences where all the words started with the same letter.
Now, I aimed for maximum eloquence. "I wish, if things become difficult, I could remove the men from here. I'm not in the mood to endure another of Damon's bombastic outbursts, though they're less extreme than before. However, our happiness may cause them to feign boredom as their jealousy rises. But one might hope such ennui would also galvanize them. If my dear first husband, the vampire king, were to approach me with another of his inequitable harangues, I might lose it. He won't jeopardize our fate, but he certainly makes me lose my composure. As lurid as it may seem, I'm not always magnanimous towards stupidity. I lack a remedy for some versions of Salvatore's innate, noxious, obdurate disposition. It might be quotidian for me to be recalcitrant when they give me orders. Perhaps we should give them transient sobriquets, like 'dick-brained idiots,' if it comes to that."
May remained silent, adhering to the game's rule: no phone checks, just explanations. While not all my words were overly difficult, I believed there was some wisdom there. We also played another game: practicing reading aloud from a book for babies. I'd obtained an adult, risqué storybook for us.
These books appeared innocent, but possessed a naughty undertone. One was titled something like "Who Will Open My Backdoor," featuring a male character wanting other men to do so. Another book was about "pearls" (meaning clitorises). There was also a story about a man who always carried his balls with him. Sometimes he'd tunnel, emerge, and re-enter, all while his balls remained attached. He would then become aroused, vomit into the tunnel, and become flaccid afterward. These were the kind of books.
We shared many games, and the girls were excellent company. I'd also search the internet and books for wisdom and sayings, peppering my speech with them, often causing them to roll their eyes. But when we discussed some of those ideas, it was fun. We all had our own thoughts, and we'd grown incredibly close.
I'd taught them a great deal about the "hive," and it felt natural; they were part of the pack, and it was my role to teach, educate, and share my insights. Damon and Mariella might be in sour moods, but it didn't bother me. I had a plan for the next phase, though only time would tell how it would unfold.
The girls were in, and with a deep bite mark on their necks, meaning they were mine. They would be loyal, unless Damon found his courage and learned a great deal quickly enough to take them. They were mine, as my dear husband, as lovely and complex as he was, was terribly lazy.
If Number Five had been pack leader, I wouldn't have been able to do this. He was far more attuned to me than Number One, which was unsettling. I wasn't used to being so much on a Salvatore's radar, being watched and loved. Maybe this little fling they had would cool him off, too.
This little snowball had gained so much momentum that stopping me was impossible, but that didn't mean I was fine. My nightmares and issues were still there; I'd just relocated them. I was using love as a crutch or a distraction, hoping they'd eventually fade, or I'd have time to address them, or sleep next to Charles or someone and make them go away. I hated my weakness, my so-called syndrome; it made me feel like such a mess. This didn't help; it only made things worse.
But now, I had no time to be a mess; I had to "mom" for the bigger girls and the babies, and make sure my pack was okay. I was, once again, putting everyone else first, and as usual, it would be a giant clusterfuck to start, as my dear husband would take it as a personal insult when he was no longer pack leader and I had done what I had. Then things would get even more messed up, as his reaction to what Wulfe had done would cause him to behave like a pig and influence others, too.
I was focused on cooking and crafting the tastiest meal possible, while also ensuring the baby food was suitable, even if the little ones wanted to paint themselves with it. Supernatural babies eat differently than humans, consuming fewer vegetables and carbs, and much more meat. However, the meat had to be age-appropriate. So, I became inventive, creating meat mush from various meats and ensuring there was flavor.
Of course, there were other differences to consider, like salt. Human babies can't process salt, but ours needed it. Allergies weren't really a concern, but to encourage them to eat a varied diet, we needed to pace ourselves. I didn't know if my little ones would have as specialized a diet as I did, but I remembered that carbs were necessary for them. The Salvatores would test or taste the babies' food to ensure their nutrition was where it should be, or at least that was my plan.
We were also making sure eating was fun, giving us a chance to be goofy and make the babies giggle and laugh, hoping some of the food would end up in their mouths and their tummies. Mariella's girls were very particular, needing to be spoon-fed to get them to taste anything.
In contrast, my boys treated food as a fun thing to put in their mouths, mush it up, and then dig it out and smear those grubby fingers in someone's hair or eye. We had to keep the babies separate, meaning not too close together, or else they would be covered in food and wouldn't eat, as they'd be too busy smearing each other. We'd experienced that a few times.
May was sure they hadn't been this difficult, but I corrected her, reminding her that she was almost even more impossible when she was a baby.
My heart was almost broken when Ashley said, "I know, living in the magic house wasn't bad, not at all, and my parents, or whoever raised me, they were lovely, but to know that my birthmother didn't even give me a name, it sucks."
It really did suck, and there was nothing I could do about it. All I could think about was how many of my children were out there feeling the same way. All I could do was strive for better, knowing I was a creature of love, and it was logical to assume my offspring would be too.
Well, lessons to be learned and whatnot, but I focused on getting our dinner ready and eating as a family again. This was such a lovely time for us all.
Having embraced my roles as both a mother and a teacher, it felt ironic. Damon had long urged me to educate Mariella, yet here I was, instructing her daughters far more than I had ever taught her. Perhaps I never truly reconciled with Mariella; after all, she had been thrust into my life, forcing me into a new existence fueled by her love for Damon.
This created a veritable hurricane for a significant period, and I may have harbored unresolved issues with her ever since, without ever having the time to address them. Maybe this time would finally nudge me in the right direction, though I wasn't certain. But one could always hope, couldn't they? I knew it wouldn't be long before the men returned, and then we'd have to confront our new reality, assess our actions, and determine our path forward. The future awaited us.