As Mimi Salvatore, Alpha female and almost pack leader, I sat by the glowing embers, sipping my wine. I couldn't help but reflect on my life. Just a few years ago, I was certain no Salvatore would ever love or want me, that we were through. But then, number five, and the others... I had to pause my thoughts and let my feelings unfurl.
At one point, I never would have believed I'd have five Salvatores loving me like burdocks, or even more. It was even more surprising that one of them was almost more in tune with me than Charles or Wulfe. I sighed softly, watching the individual currently sitting on the sofa, sipping cognac and chatting with number four and nine about recipes. He was food prepping for a few days.
This has become my normal night routine. I usually sit by the fireplace in the late evening, drinking a few glasses of wine and chatting with whoever might be around—Charles, Wulfe, or Adam. It's rarely the girls, as they go to bed quite early since they take care of the babies at night, and there's no chance I'd be doing that. I am being protected, loved, and cared for, and yet, this is all still quite new to me.
My flower room has been quite busy. So many pack members have come and gone, taking something with them or helping me put flowers in buckets and open their packets. Adam and Charles have also directed quite a lot to my shop, and they continued to transport them into the morning, having already made a few trips.
Moreover, I had to write down my arrangement ideas before actually creating them, so Charles would know what was needed. He was right on point with our biggest order: a huge wedding happening on Christmas. He was very well connected to the clients and knew intimately what they wanted, so he made sure I was crafting what was needed, not just what I wanted. We still need quite a lot, but thanks to this huge amount of flowers, we now have a decent amount of materials, and things will progress quite nicely.
My mind was restless. I knew Damon was a dickweed, a pissant, a shithead, but I couldn't understand why he had to be so damn weak. Why couldn't he love me? Why couldn't he learn to be with me, and why did he have to hurt me time after time? I knew that if he would just get his mind in order and show me he was regretful, I would be weak and forgive him, take him back, even though he might just hurt me again.
But why? What drove him to always explode in my eyes, wound my soul and spirit? Despite every good moment we'd shared, these incidents eroded them, making me question my sanity. Should I take him back? Should I just forget him and move on? Yet, didn't he have the right to make mistakes too? After all, he was a millennia-old creature with a very questionable history with women. Mariella was the first healthy, or semi-healthy, relationship he'd ever had, and ours was certainly not healthy.
Number Five watched me and said softly, "You know, baby, Number One is weak, and he gets scared. He feels trapped, not by your bond, but by his own past. He still believes he cannot change, that he's doomed to mess everything up. He feels that if he fully embraces the bond, he'll lose Mariella, but that's not the case. And I must admit, he's also scared of you. He doesn't know you, and I can tell because I've come to know you during this time. I must say, you are wholly different from what I thought all those decades ago. You are utterly different from what I had assumed, and that might be one of the things that sets Number One off. He doesn't know you, and every time he thinks he does, there's a new twist, and he just can't cope."
I replied, "I suppose so, but it still hurts. I understand he had his own notion of who I am and what I am, and it's not easy to adjust to reality when our bond is or was so damn strong. But it still feels like I'm supposed to be the strong one, that I need to bear my burdens alone. He's not able to support me like he would, say Mariella, but then again, Mariella hardly has the emotional capacity I do. I just have to accept I'm too far gone for him to be the husband I'd like." My voice was quiet.
Number Nine said, "Babe, he'll get there. It takes time, I know that, but he will. And then you, my snowball, might be a bit of trouble, as he'll find his balls, so to speak."
I shook my head; it seemed unlikely. Besides, I wasn't going to keel over and let him run me over.
Number Five, distracting me, said, "Come on, baby, let's do one exercise again. See who gets who."
The others murmured happily. This meant our little spy game, our interrogation exercises, where we tried to poke holes in each other's cover stories. They hadn't gotten me yet, but they were close. They had gotten each other, well, Wulfe multiple times, but each time they improved. So I could see the benefits. Of course, this also made them better equipped to handle me and understand my mind, meaning they wouldn't let me do my things quite so easily. But this was fun from time to time.
An hour later, I was on a roll. Number Nine was my target, and I questioned him about his cover story: he claimed to be a geologist mapping rare minerals for a private company. Since, in this scenario, my "secret facility" was built inside caves, he had a good reason to be around, but I was trying to stump him.
"Now, Mr. Ferris," I began, "I understand your company's target, and I can empathize. However, I still need to see actual evidence of your assignment. This is private property, and a mere story of you looking for certain minerals without actual proof is somewhat suspicious."
I maintained a level tone, as in this scenario, he possessed identification, a car, and his facts were straight. His knowledge of local minerals was quite good, making for a believable cover story, but it was time to apply a bit of pressure. However, he proved remarkably adept at resisting my manipulative skills.
He said, "Now, I don't mean to sound condescending, but could you tell me what your company does? From my perspective, this is quite strange. You've blown into a cave system that's been here for centuries and built some kind of secret facility right underneath it – all within, what, five years? I know this because I used to map those caves when I was younger. They were somewhat protected, so I'm quite surprised you've obtained an official permit to destroy them, especially since they had protection status. Furthermore, with no signage, no name, and you having told me nothing about who you are or what's done here, it makes me want to ask a few questions of certain authorities."
He had effectively flipped the script. He was, in fact, right; in my scenario, I would have used this avenue to determine if the place was nefarious or not. But since, in our little game, he was the one being caught, he was now drawing unwanted attention to me.
I blinked and responded, maintaining my role: "This is a highly secure facility, and we are not permitted to discuss it with civilians. Now, I will ask again: what were you doing here in the first place?"
My voice was sharper, but this was an unexpected twist. If he had played his cards right, in a real-life situation, he might have gotten away with it, as those who had apprehended him might not have wanted the wrong kind of attention. However, one must be clever enough to recognize places where people might disappear for asking too many questions.
Therefore, voicing one's suspicions wasn't always the best choice; reading the situation was paramount, just as Number Nine had done here. Originally, this place, which I was portraying, had been under our suspicion for mining materials like cobalt, iridium, vanadium, rhodium, and a few other nasty metals for supernaturals.
Since these were needed in smaller quantities than for typical commercial mining, it was highly likely to have been a nefarious operation. Thus, in this scenario, he had hit the mark, and I was now admitting to myself that he had truly almost stumped me.
Taking a deep breath, I considered my next move. However, I wasn't the one being accused in this scenario, and the tactic of flipping the script had worked.
So, I smiled and said, "Good going. Nicely done, but remember, not all places are suitable, because people do disappear."
Number Five smiled smugly and replied, "My love, that's precisely why I have my telepathy. And I must admit, you are one hell of a teacher. I hadn't originally thought of flipping the script, but then again, as I started to remember what you usually do when accused or cornered, it inspired me."
I nodded, feeling a sense of pride that he had truly learned. Yet, my alpha side acknowledged that it might be harder for me to always flip the script to my advantage, as people were more aware of that tendency. Still, it might elevate our lives to new heights, bringing new experiences.
Perhaps then, the burning pain in my soul, caused by Number One's rejection, would eventually numb and allow me to love again with my whole heart, for those who wanted me, needed me, and loved me without any complications.
I was sitting there, the Salvatores idly chatting about this and that, and I had just sipped my wine when Number Five lazily said, trapping me without my even realizing it, "Baby, impress us. Tell us, or describe one bodily contact you had with someone, say... 1843 days ago. Surely, with your memory, it's not impossible."
I was flabbergasted. Well, 1843 days was quite a few years – exactly four years and 19 days, which placed it around our Australian trip.
As my focus zeroed in on the right day, I swallowed and began, "Well, there was hot, moist air around me in the tent, and I was touching his hot, heated skin, smelling his passion so clearly. I could feel my body react to his closeness..."
I hadn't even thought too carefully as the memory took over. It had been one incredibly passionate night with a few of the Salvatores in my tent, and I found myself openly describing a very raunchy time in my life, making myself quite aroused. By the time my arousal actually hit me...
I stopped talking, blushing as I muttered, "God damn it, you male, look what you've done to me. I'm about to come and have my way with you."
His smug smirk was almost too seductive, and I realized it had been some time since I'd been this eager for bedtime action. Once again, interpack drama and everything else had hit me, and sex had become less important. But this damn seducer hit me where it felt good, and I felt my pussy throbbing and heat pooling inside me.
I just had to have him and make him pay for what he did. Judging by the pheromones I could smell from him and the others, they were more than ready to reduce me into a sobbing, pleading mess. And that was all good because I felt so damn loved and cared for. I felt like I had a true family, someone to love me no matter what, and a bunch of naughty husbands ensuring I remembered to be a woman as well, not just a mother or female.
I had my needs, my body, and those needed attention from time to time.
Number Five and Wulfe began to plot what to do to me in husky, seductively dark voices, while Charles crooned to me, "Honey, show us your pleasure room. We might need some tools..."
There was a distinct danger in his voice now, too, and oh my god, my body heard it. But best of all, I wasn't the only one. I could feel through the hive that Lepard, Demon, and a few other Salvatores were ensuring my four girls – May, Lily, Emmylee, and Vivianne – were also made into shuddering messes. They were very attractive females and needed pleasure, sex, and domination as well.
The babies and toddlers would be cared for, sure, but it was important to take care of our own needs and our lust. The girls were more or less energy creatures, running on lust, though perhaps not as much as Mariella, but still, it kept them healthy. Not to mention me, I was a mere energy exploiter, but I had a multitude of energies in my mind, as well as powers. Emotions, both physical and mental, were crucial for us all.
I was living my life, enjoying it as much as I could. Despite what Damon had done, I was determined that I deserved happiness. However, I couldn't stop my pretty, sarcastic train of thought as I envisioned our future: crisis after crisis, him yelling at me, hurting me, developing all sorts of mental issues, then making up to me, only to explode at me again soon after. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just keep it together and behave like the rest of the Salvatores, so damn perfect? Why was he, who had the most power to hurt me, also the most broken?
But he was a dickweed, a pissant, an idiot, a pussyslave, and so much more. My happiness wasn't entirely dependent on him. If he wanted to use his so-called jealousy as an excuse to explode at me, so be it, let him. I had others, and they had me. More importantly, they were almost more mine than Mariella's. This thought made me smirk darkly. I wasn't pregnant, so this wasn't hormones speaking; rather, a part of me was waking up, learning to assert itself.
Number Five looked at me and said, "Baby, listen. No matter what the future brings, I must admit, I love you much more than I ever thought possible. You are not who I originally thought you were; I had no idea who you truly are. Seeing you hurt, in pain because Number One is an idiot, makes my heart stutter as it tries to beat with yours. You've shown me what love means, what love is. Let me show you what lust, a la Salvatore, will be soon enough."
He continued, "I can use a few nice, tiny pricks of muscle relaxant to make you limp, helpless, a pleading mess. And with the tools of the trade, those oils you used earlier on Mariella, they offer so many possibilities. Just think how I would use one to render you blind, so you couldn't see, but could only feel. Then I'd dab, dab those oils all over your body, my hands, my teeth, my lips..."
I was literally creaming myself as he spoke.
My voice was hoarse, "Yeah, keep talking. But you must do what you say soon because my cunt is drooling so much that this chair might need some deep cleaning."
His gaze was heated, and he wasn't the only one. Quite a few eager husbands were ready to use my body in the best possible way, making me just feel, not think, but feel and float.
My skin prickled with heat that pooled between my thighs. My nipples hardened, poking against my shirt, and my breathing grew faster and deeper. A deep crimson lust unfurled in my mind, flooding my veins and transforming me into a sex beast. It felt as if I could feel single atoms caressing my skin.
I could smell each of Salvatores' arousal, see it shine in their eyes, and I was so damn ready to do this. It was time to let go, to let love and lust collide once more in the best possible way, and to let the sun shine, letting love shine for all of us.
Of course, as I was being catty, I just couldn't help myself but to send my arousal, my plans, and every delicious sensation into our mother hive, flooding Mariella with it, letting her learn a few lessons as well.