As I walked back to my bedroom after our nightly discussion, I was sure they had seduced me, but I wasn't certain it would actually lead anywhere. They seemed to be taking a "wait and see" approach.
Meanwhile, I had a few ideas for my flowers. It occurred to me that flowers aren't always solely used in bouquets; I was actually planning to make a few wreaths. Short-stemmed flowers are perfect for wreaths, and sometimes, when making a large bouquet, I'd cut off a few extra blooms that would be useful for wreaths. While these offcuts could certainly be used for funeral sprays or similar arrangements, I found the idea of making wreaths much more enjoyable.
My bedroom remained a calming, pastel-shaded sanctuary, filled with my own pheromones—a space that felt safe and relaxing. It was, essentially, my den. I walked in and switched off the main lights. I had installed numerous small lights along the walls, allowing me to control the amount and placement of light.
I appreciated having choices beyond simply "lights on" or "lights off." I knew Mariella and Dickweed rarely paid attention to lighting and fixtures, as their focus lay elsewhere, but for me, the details mattered. My soft, leopard-patterned rugs added a touch of drama to the otherwise pastel-shaded room, and my light green, gauzy curtains appeared even darker now that it was night.
I began to undress, planning to shower and then watch movies, as I wasn't in the mood for sleep. As I took off my shirt, I tossed it into the laundry chute, but my pants were fine to keep on for now.
I had my larger towels in the bathroom, which I had just acquired yesterday, along with a huge robe. It was a custom-made piece, one of Ruby's designs by De La Renta, and it almost beckoned me. I knew I might just lounge in it for quite some time, as the material was incredibly luxurious. Its dark blue, green, and golden design, reminiscent of peacocks or auroras, was clearly made for pleasure and relaxation.
My bathroom, with its light yellow walls and pastel green tiled floor, felt surprisingly spacious. Soft rugs with anti-slip bottoms lay on the floor, and the room offered a large basin for washing my face and hands. The ergonomic toilet was elevated just right and made of a special polymer, which made it less chilly to the touch. Underfloor heating, which was adjustable, added to the comfort.
The shower itself was luxurious, boasting a large showerhead with multiple settings. It was well-stocked with various washing products, and a built-in bench offered a place to sit, making it feel like a true spa experience.
Even my large bathtub was heated, ensuring it wouldn't get cold. What's more, it had a smart system that vibrated if I remained still for too long, preventing me from dozing off. All these features were actually Adam and Charles's ideas; they had installed a few of these tubs, supplied by Magnum.
Oh, how I missed Magnum. And as I started to miss him, I found myself missing the others too. It had already been over two years. By God, if anything like this ever happened again, I'd make sure they wouldn't run away but would be a part of it. I wasn't sure if we could ever replicate this in the real world, where the allure of the Azores and sex holidays proved too tempting for Mariella and Dickweed.
A mirthless smile touched my lips as I shed the rest of my clothes and stepped into the shower. I intended to log a bit more of my video diary about Dickweed and his issues as a husband and partner. I could almost imagine Mimosa's laughter when she watched my rants. But, it was all good.
Hot water cascaded over my body, warming my skin and intensifying my strawberry scent. A deep, dark arousal still simmered within me; the mere memory of what they had evoked made my pussy wet again.
My hands moved gently over my skin, then slipped between my legs. Soon, pleasure began to build as my fingers found my G-spot, causing a flicker of light to dance in my eyes. Panting erupted from my lips, and the heady scent of champagne and strawberry wafted through the humid, hot air of the shower.
I tried to prolong the orgasm, to keep the pleasure mounting. However, as it had been some time since I'd felt this way – a few weeks, at least – I couldn't help but let myself explode. My thighs shook, I gasped, and hot waves of undiluted pleasure crashed through my body, from my pussy to my belly, making me even more sensitive. It seemed I might have a bit more self-pleasure action in store. And I knew it wouldn't be long before I visited my pleasure room to get more supplies if I desired more than just my skilled fingers in my cunt.
After exploding myself five times, I finally managed to wash myself, yet my skin remained incredibly sensitive. My lust seemed to swirl around in my mind, which was fine, as I was capable of incredible things to myself.
If I were in a naughty mood, I could send a bit of my sensations to the hive, letting the Salvatores notice what I was up to. However, I had no idea what was actually planned for me, and it turned out to be quite a significant surprise. Not all surprises are bad, of course, but this was something I truly had no inkling of.
Exiting the shower, I felt refreshed and in a certain mood. Yes, I was planning a brief trip to my special pleasure room to gather more supplies and then have some fun. Or at least, that was the plan as I wrapped my luxurious robe around me, pulling the hood over my hair. There was no need to wrap it in a towel every time, though I did grab one to dry myself more thoroughly later.
As I stepped out of the bathroom and flicked off the light, I was surprised to find Wulfe sitting on my bed, looking at me rather strangely. There was something off about him, something I didn't immediately realize.
But as he lifted his gaze, his hourglass-shaped pupils, his eternally pale skin, and the sharp fangs flashing as he smiled at me coldly told me he had let his vampire side completely out. This was very rare, and I wasn't sure I had ever seen him like this.
"Hello, dearie. You were quite naughty in the shower, weren't you?" His soft voice drawled, a hint of danger and bloodlust giving it an almost scary undertone.
"Well, I do have my needs, and number five put me in the mood, so to speak. Now, what's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level.
I was flabbergasted and not entirely sure what he was planning.
"Let the bitch out. I'm in the mood for some fun. Come on, let her out, fully," he hissed, his vampire aura pressing down on me.
I could feel the 'bitch' stirring within me, but I countered, "That's not a good idea. I don't wish to harm you; she's dangerous. Besides, if I let her out now, I'll have no control and no memory of what she does. I can have some vampire fun with you, but I'm not letting her out." My voice was tight.
My vampire side was strong, and in the past, I could control myself and let her out partially. However, if someone were to dig her out fully, I would lose all control and memory. I would literally wake up with my belly full of blood, my victim mauled.
The 'bitch' would kill the victim, usually an immortal who would then revive, and she would do it repeatedly. I had seen a few surveillance tapes, and it was never pretty. I had even done this to Klaus a few times when he had really pissed me off in the past. I had never told Damon or even Wulfe about this.
"Oh, please. I'm 2500 years old, or older. Do you really think your little bloodlusty girl can match me? My unicorn, don't insult me!" Wulfe's voice was tight, and his aura pressed on me more intensely.
The 'bitch' was truly waking up. I grunted, trying to force her back down.
"Let it be, Wulfe. I mean it. She's dangerous, unhinged, and I can't guarantee your reaction when she makes a meal out of you. I need you; the kids and babies need you." My voice was even tighter.
Wulfe just snorted and continued to push his vampire power against mine, digging her out. I snarled, trying to stop him. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew I was losing this fight, and the outcome might not be pretty.
I could feel the change happening; my mind was sinking, my hair turning white, and a bloodlust churned in my veins, burning away any desire for pleasure. All that remained was the need to get hot blood straight from the vein into my belly and make Wulfe my meal.
My resistance weakened with each passing second as the 'bitch' took over. My eyes turned utterly black, my skin pale, my lips blood red, and sharp, black nails grew from my fingers. A black lace dress materialized on me. There was no more self-control, no more 'me' as the 'bitch' took over, and my mind went completely blank.
Wulfe sat on the bed, having planned this for quite some time. Now, it was finally time to begin. This was merely a test run, a preliminary attempt, as he knew he would need to repeat this process several times. He was confident that the "little bitch," as he referred to her, was no match for him. However, he also understood the immense stress Mimi endured trying to control her vampiric nature.
Damon had never properly taught her how to be a vampire, and as a result, her mind and powers had forged a distinct persona for her vampire side. This persona had become so strong that it completely overshadowed Mimi's own mind, leaving her with no control. Each time this happened, the vampire side grew more and more separate, as Mimi's conscious mind repelled and recoiled from it, unable to accept this part of herself.
But now, Wulfe was initiating his unique form of therapy. He recognized that because this side had become so potent and distinct, it would require time to reintegrate. Yet, once his plan was fully in motion, he intended to teach this technique to specific Salvatores, equipped with security measures, so they too could assist Mimi.
The goal was to gradually help her vampire side become a cohesive part of her own mind, rather than a separate entity. He believed it was unhealthy to maintain such distinct divisions within oneself.
"Come on," Wulfe taunted the vampire standing before him, "I'm sitting here, a meal. Are you hungry? Show me what you've got."
Mimi's vampire side was, in Wulfe's eyes, as beautiful as every other aspect of Mimi. This seductive minx was no exception.
She took a few steps closer, releasing her vampiric pheromones and purring in a sultry tone, "Oh, my meal, why don't you lie down and let me make you feel something you've never felt..."
She gazed at Wulfe, the scent of burning candles intensifying as her bloodlust grew. Step by step, she advanced, her lithe body moving with the predatory grace of the creature she was.
Wulfe drawled lazily, "I am no meal, and certainly not an easy one. Do better, honey. A little bit of vampire pheromones and a husky voice won't work on me. I've been around long enough to recognize your kind; all you want is my blood, nothing more."
The vampiress tensed, unaccustomed to such a rebuke. Wulfe, however, knew precisely how to push her buttons, and this was all part of his plan.
She moved closer, attempting a smile, and purred, "I assure you, old one, this is an experience you have never encountered before..."
With a flick of his fingers, Wulfe ensnared the insolent creature in a hex, paralyzing her.
"Oh, buttercup," he continued, his voice dripping with arrogance, "if you believe I haven't known pain in my life, you are sorely mistaken. Do you truly think your little mauling would be something a creature like me hasn't felt before? Think again, honeypot."
He walked towards the immobilized vampiress, his voice now a dark growl. "I could certainly make a meal of you. Your blood is always so darn tasty, and now that this side of things is clear, even better. So, prepare yourself to become my meal, you fang-wielding… I will teach you a few good lessons on how to address your betters."
He smiled, his fangs fully extended. This caused the vampiress to tense even further, and she snarled, attempting to break free. Wulfe was impressed by her strength, though he didn't show it.
While she wasn't escaping, her struggle caused the hex to ripple slightly. It was rare, but she was contained, and Wulfe was about to have a decent feast before his plan truly began. After all, he was a vampire, and blood was something he relished.
This was going to be enjoyable for him, beneficial for Mimi, and quintessentially vampiric—something that should have been done ages ago. But as the saying goes, better late than never. He knew they had time, and this would take its own course to yield results.
Once he achieved sufficient progress, making it impossible for the Salvatores to botch it further, this would become a pack endeavor. It was akin to unloading Mimi's emotional baggage, but this time, it would involve reprogramming her responses as a vampire, as they should have been from the start.