Number Three's irritated voice boomed in my mind, "Mimi, could you please come to eat, right fucking now or else..."
He'd already called me twice, but each time I'd simply replied "soon" or "as soon as I get this done," before returning to my flower room. I was immersed in creating arrangements and bouquets for our shop, a task I found incredibly satisfying. The late afternoon sun streamed in, illuminating the vibrant colors, and it was almost three o'clock.
My current creation, destined for a large glass jar, was a symphony of violet and white alstroemerias, yellow freesias, bluish ornamental grasses, wisteria, lobularia, and various greens. I added a few strong, furry stems of bushy amaranth or cattails, feeling euphoric and completely refreshed.
It had been three weeks since Wulfe's little stunt, and my mind felt so clear, as if I could conquer the world. I hummed under my breath, giggling at the thought of Number Three's scowl, and decided it was probably time to eat.
Before leaving my flower room, I arranged a few small bunches, using my own crystalware, and considered how they might freshen up the kitchen. I'd created five bunches, each featuring amaranth, grasses, and a new type of mint, which filled the air with a delightful, aromatic scent. Placing them in my basket, I finally left to join them for a meal.
Unbeknownst to me, my pupils were dilated, my skin flushed, and my expression was dazed. I was even emitting pheromones, which enhanced my already exhilarating high. Unfortunately, this also meant the Salvatores would be affected.
However, such thoughts didn't occur to me; in my current state, it felt perfect. Heartbreak was a distant memory, and my husband, number one, that's it, pissant with his lack of sense, was no longer a concern. There was only my bliss.
I arrived with some flowers, having made many small bunches for the shop. Since I had so many, I thought we could use some on our table as well.
"Look what I have brought to us; we could put these all around us, as the toddlers are away for the weekend." I almost sang my message, which caused Number Three to look at me and frown.
"Missy, my love, are you feeling okay? You seem a bit odd," he said.
I simply nodded and handed him one of my special bunches to smell. He soon grinned, catching the scent of the magical amaranthus.
He took my creation and placed it on the table, saying, "Smells lovely, and looks good. Oh, goody, you have many! Come on, let me put them over here, and we can put them in a toddler-safe place. Oh, they are so pretty!"
He smelled them deeply, inhaling the scent and pollen, and became quite high, giggling as he went to get my meal, humming contentedly to himself as if nothing were wrong.
As the other Salvatores entered the kitchen, the combination of my utterly intoxicated pheromones and the amaranthus soon made them all very relaxed and high as well. Everything felt incredibly perfect, and everyone was smiling, giggling as we ate, hiccuping, talking utter nonsense, and having a blast.
However, my peculiar state of being high as a kite slowly seeped into the hive. Wulfe noticed it as he returned home from shopping with his haul. He realized something very strange was happening. Though he wasn't sure what, my complete, giddy euphoria combined with my relaxed state made him very cautious.
As he drove the car into the garage, he muttered under his breath, "My unicorn, what have you gotten yourself into, and the others as well?"
He began to formulate a plan of action, but first, he needed to see if his intervention was necessary or if we had simply been relaxing and having fun.
Wulfe cast a protection spell as he walked into the kitchen, pausing by the door with raised brows as he tried to make sense of the scene before him. Mimi was eating—well, sort of. One Salvatore was hand-feeding her, giving food with his fingers, causing her to suck them and make this salvatore grunt lustfully.
Numbers three, eight, and six were with her; six was attempting to be funny by not using his hands or utensils but instead smashing his face into the food and slopping it up, which made Mimi laugh out loud.
Meanwhile, number three was commenting, offering hints on how to eat better, though he seemed too high to be fully coherent. Eight was making her suck his fingers as he fed her. Eight seemed tense, less giddy than others.
Wulfe shook his head and looked around, still trying to understand what exactly was going on. Was some food spoiled? Then his sharp gaze caught sight of bunches of flowers.
Fine, he thought gloomily, time to call in some reinforcements. He prepared to take control of Mimi, as well as numbers three, six, and eight, who were with her. The others were downstairs, since Mariella's babies required more time and effort, meaning more helpers were needed.
What Wulfe had no idea of was that downstairs, it was Friday—adults' day, or more specifically, men's day. This meant they made Mariella attend to them, which often led to wild encounters lasting a day or two. It was merely an excuse to use the babies, as number one wanted others to have fun with him as well.
The girls were good with kids, and they were driven by lust-fueled desires. Perhaps number one was trying to fuck his mistakes away—or maybe he was making more of them, giving himself a bigger excuse to hate himself and avoid facing the consequences of his actions.
At that moment, numbers one, two, four, five, and ten were in one bedroom with Mariella, having come up with various games over the past days. Number five loved Mimi, but he also liked to use Mariella, as did numbers two and four.
Mariella sensed this dynamic, but she was jealous too, and if being used as a sex object was what it took to have those who loved Mimi, then so be it. Yet what Mariella did not realize was that soon, there would be a significant change in her mindset. A part of her would awaken fully, leading to a major leap in her personal growth.
The game was simple: men sat in chairs, covered by sheets with only their hard, veiny cocks extending through holes. Mariella's task was to taste and identify each man. However, as she prepared, moistening her mouth, salivating from humiliation and her power over men, Wulfe's stern, disappointed voice boomed in her mind, making her cringe at the blatant sex show and her impending role.
"Mariella," Wulfe commanded, "if you would kindly take the time and effort to behave like a family member, I would appreciate it. Do not tell any of the Salvatores, nor take them with you. Put on your strongest energy shield, gather a few blood collection tubes and needles, and prepare. I have several pack members here, high as kites, including Mimi. My guess is its one of the new flowers she acquired."
Mariella responded, "I'm coming. High as a kite, Mimi? But she doesn't get high. What the fuck is going on, and what about her new plants?"
Wulfe replied, "She made a tremendous deal a few weeks ago. In addition, a deal she had made ages ago, which she thought had been dropped, turned out to be a system error. They added more to compensate for the delay, so her storage room is filled with flowers. Now, the Salvatores have taken most of the flowers, at least what their radars warned them about, but not all. It seems something is intoxicating for them as well. The Salvatores are getting pretty eager, and I don't need lust-crazed fucking machines getting stoned by whatever these have gotten into their systems."
Mariella didn't explain, but simply told the men that Wulfe had requested her presence upstairs. As they knew Wulfe had made Mariella his mistress, they assumed she was going to service her lord. Their minds, filled with lust, were content to wait for their "cocksleeve" to return so she could do what she did best: service them.
As Mariella gathered her supplies and headed for the upstairs wing, she couldn't help but reflect on how rapidly everything had spiraled out of control. The novelty of being parents to a demanding trio, and then babies, had quickly faded, replaced by a return to their lustful states as sex once again took precedence.
However, Mariella was determined to do better this time. She was realizing that she was truly needed; Mimi wasn't infallible and couldn't shoulder the entire pack alone, as she had been doing. While she had received help, it was Mimi's organizational skills and leadership that had truly kept the family functioning.
Now, it was time for Mariella to grow up, embrace her role as a parent and a part of the family, and share the burdens with Mimi. After all, she was the beta female, not merely a sex toy.
Shaking her head, Mariella opened the door to the wing, bracing herself for whatever chaos awaited her. To her utter surprise, the scene was not what she had expected, and it was far from positive. Mimi was seated on Number Six's lap, her hands already opening and ripping his shirt, while he, in turn, was unbuttoning her blouse. Exposing her breasts slightly, let his finger pluck her nipples, and he cackle same time.
Mimi giggled and then addressed Number Three, who was standing nearby. Wulfe, on the other side of the room, was maintaining a spell to prevent the others from becoming too eager. He watched the intoxicated individuals with a mixture of worry and annoyance.
"Wanna hear a joke? I have plenty," Mimi said to Number Six, who was teasing her nipples, opening her blouse, and looking at her with dilated pupils and an idiotic, stoned smile, slurring, "Yeah, sure, babe. Tell me."
Mariella took a deep breath, struggling to comprehend the situation while battling a brutal headache. Number Eight, grinning maliciously, was pressing into her mind. It seemed this so-called fucking machine became particularly unpleasant when stoned, whatever had hit them.
Wulfe sighed and snapped at Number Eight, "Will you behave! She's trying to help!"
"Sure, darlin'," Number Eight drawled dangerously. "Helping us? You're just a whisper away from your next sex-filled weekend with your masters, aren't ya, hun?"
A clear and nasty threat laced his voice, and he held a long, sharp knife in his hand. Mariella's pulse quickened; no one, not even Number Five, had ever made her feel so vulnerable. This one was preying on her, and she was his prey. His mood wasn't one of lust, but something far more freaking dangerous. She could feel his dark, predatory intent resonating within the hive.
Mimi's voice broke the silence, starting her joke: "Farmer John went to visit the doctor. It was a new place, so he walked to the reception."
Dangerously glaring at Mariella, Number Eight took one step closer. This caused Mariella to freeze in her spot. Wulfe wasn't helping; perhaps he was powerless against this threat. Mariella's mouth dried up, and she swallowed nervously. This was not a walk in the fucking park as she had assumed.
Mimi continued, "The receptionist asked, 'Name?' Farmer John said, 'John.' The receptionist typed something and asked, 'And surname?' Farmer John said, 'Farmer John Smith.' The receptionist typed more."
Mimi was lying, utterly giddy in the arms of Number Six. Mariella felt trapped. She heard Mimi's voice lazily telling her joke, but a part of Mariella wanted to run away – far and fast. She had managed to keep her wits about her, resisting the urge to teleport into the arms of Number One, shaking with fear. Mariella was determined to show she wasn't some freaking helpless prey.
Mimi was fully unaware, or perhaps she didn't care, as she continued her dad joke to Number Three: "The receptionist asked, as she had to fill out forms and not assume anything, 'Sex?' Farmer John was quiet, not answering anything. The receptionist clarified, 'Male, female?' John grunted, 'Yeah, male, female, goat, pig, horse, sheep, whatever I can catch.'"
Number Three burst into laughter.
Mimi giggled into the neck of Number Six, who was holding her, and said almost drunkenly, "I told you, it was a good one."
Three smiled, "Yeah, babe, you did. You certainly did."
Mariella swallowed again. Steeling herself, stopping her hands from shaking, she walked towards Number Three.
"I need to take a bit of blood. Some damn plant is making you high as a kite, and I need to neutralize it." Her voice sounded in her own ears strained, high-pitched, and kind of dry.
Suddenly, a dark, dangerous voice asked right next to Mariella's ear, "And why would you do something like that, darlin'?"
Number Eight had glided in like a ghost, positioning himself right against Mariella's back. A sharp knife pressed against her back, and Mariella could feel its sharp edge as he ran it along her spine. His hot breath fanned her neck, intensifying her feeling of being trapped.
Mariella attempted to maintain her composure as she turned around. "Give me your arm," she instructed Number Eight, her voice firm. "You're affected too, and I need to examine you. There's no need for hostility; just cooperate."
With a surge of energy, she deployed a powerful shield, trapping him in place. Mariella then retrieved her kit, exposing a plump vein on Number Eight's forearm and drawing several vials of blood. Keeping him still, she moved on to Mimi, who was too engrossed in Number Three, tearing his shirt off. She got her blood as well, and she took just in case samples from number six as well, who was leaning to suckle Mimi's exposed tits.
Now came the challenging part: go back downstairs, try to get some kind of idea what this is to get the Salvatores on board, and prevent them from succumbing to whatever was making the affected individuals high.
Mariella turned to Wulfe. "Teleport those bouquets to medbay," she ordered. "I'll put an energy shield around them, and we can identify the plant responsible for this. And if you could kindly control Number Eight, he seems to have some issues with me."
Wulfe responded coldly, "Listen up, buttercup. He's not the only one. I asked for your help only because there was no one else. Adam, Charles, and the boys are at a weekend camp with toddlers, focusing on meeting and socializing. You were the only one who might not be affected. Yeah. He showed me your special Fridays, several of them, and what was planned for today."
Mariella nodded, ashamed. "I realize we've been foolish, but I'm trying to make things better. Now I need to go. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
She smelled Mimi's blood, her brow furrowing. There was a cloying sweetness, the wrong kind, and her saviour radar gave her something to tell Wulfe.
"First aid," she directed. "Give them all something very citrusy, not just acidic, but citrus. It will neutralize the effect somewhat, but not entirely. I have no idea how their behavior will change, so be careful."
Wulfe nodded, and Mariella walked away calmly, her energy shield still active and her powers keeping Number Eight contained until she was out of the wing. The heavy door slammed shut behind her.
Only then did she take a shaky breath, allowing her hands to tremble as she entered the medbay to place the blood samples into the analyzers. She intended to test them herself first, without involving the Salvatores immediately, as their arrogance would likely lead them to taste the blood and experience the effects.
She didn't want to dwell on that possibility. If number eight, one of the most eager to fuck his problems away, was affected and behaved like that, she did not want to meet number one or five, not to mention number two, when in the same kind of stoned. However, one thing was certain: it would be a long time before she could truly relax around Number Eight, even after whatever had affected them had faded.
The future loomed ahead, and for the first time in her life, Mariella felt truly needed. No longer was she just a doll made for Damon, his eternal companion, someone he could boss around, order, and use. Now, for the very first time, she had a purpose beyond what Damon had taught her. It was time for her to truly be a mom, a beta female, and a part of the family.
First, she would take care of her pack as a beta female. Mimi, as the alpha female, was unable to, and then it would be a new time for all the men in the pack. It was time for them to shape up, too; Damon needed to learn that his freaking little outbursts served no one and nothing. They only made things messy and unconducive to family life. Oh, Mariella had so many plans in her mind as she started to act.
It was the dawn of a new era. It would take some time and effort, but she would get Damon whipped into shape as well, taking his rightful part as alpha male, father, and husband to Mimi, and a part of the family.
Sure, arguments would be inevitable, considering both parties' flamboyant temperaments, but no more of this childish jealousy shit that Damon loved to spew when things got too real for his little mind to handle. Mariella was not feeling too kindly towards her husbands, and oh, they would feel it soon enough.