It was already 4 pm, and the rest of the pack had returned home. The toddlers had been fed, as had the babies, and my poor kitchen was currently overrun by overeager husbands. Number One had coldly reminded me that since we were all going to live in the wing, which was much more toddler-proof than downstairs, we would all cook there, eliminating the need to go downstairs.
Therefore, several of the men who had previously cooked downstairs had now found our meats and were eagerly prepping them. Dinner might consist of tortilla pockets, but this time, it wouldn't be an operation run by me; instead, it would be a mutual effort. With 25 adults, 8 toddlers, and 11 babies now in the same space, fewer people were needed to watch over them. They also wanted to utilize our meats.
Damon, Number One, was less happy about the revelation of these old carcasses; he saw their potential and felt as though he had been robbed or kept in the dark. Charles and Adam were watching the children, along with the boys and our older grown-up daughters, so there were people caring for the kids and babies, who were now awake and playing with their siblings.
Mariella was observing how much my toddlers, especially Sadie, Seraphina, and Sabrina, cared for and interacted with the babies. They were already learning to play pretend, and since they were ready for the babies, it was even better. The babies were sitting, trying to get on their fours so they could attempt to crawl, and they wanted to eat anything and everything they could get their hands on.
I was currently still trying to chop my horse; this time, it was the back. I had been digging and butchering it into pieces, one muscle at a time, and I was currently cleaning the sirloin and tenderloins I had just separated. I also had a few smaller muscles deep from the hind part that were less used, so they might also be tender.
Wulfe had already broken down his birds, and the Salvatores were eager to season them. Thus, Wulfe was free to use the fat-embedding and tenderizing machine, although several of the Salvatores also liked that piece of equipment.
What really bugged me was that Damon number one was next to me, chopping my horse. Whenever I freed up a muscle, he'd usually pluck it, clean it, and hand it over. However, I still had loins to be cleaned from silverskin and excess gristle, and I wasn't sure what to do with them.
"Oh, baby, wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Hey Seven, baby has just gotten tenderloin and sirloin here, wanna use them?"
Number Seven walked next, on the other side of me, and said, "Oh, thank you, my love. I can take those; we'll make them into steaks for the barbecue this weekend. We have plenty of fillings for tonight already."
I had just gotten them cleaned when he snatched them. Oh my god, my patience was wearing thin. It felt like doing puzzles; someone was always taking things I had just prepped and doing something with them.
Fine, I took a breath and said to Damon, "Continue with the horse. I'll go get the smokehouse; it's done. If you want, we can put the meats in the freezer in bigger blocks too; we have room."
He grunted. I had gotten almost 75 percent of the horse done, so there wasn't much left. I was going to retrieve my little secrets from the smokehouse, as I had planned them to be part of our dinner. However, now I wasn't so sure because there were roasts in the oven, sauces and stews bubbling, men huddling and chopping, tasting and tweaking – plenty of food had already been made.
I walked to the smokehouse, opened the door, and stepped inside. The strong smell of smoked meat and other things greeted me. I flicked the lights on, as this was quite a big space, almost room-sized, and it was dark, so I needed to see what I was doing.
My cart was with me, and in it, I had wrapping paper. So, I took a sheet of paper, a piece of meat, wrapped it, and put it into the cart. Why were these items so special? First, I had whole organs here; we hadn't smoked organs yet, and I had no idea how they would turn out, but I had done them, anyway.
So, hearts, liver, kidneys, and even suet were wrapped and put in my cart. Several whole salmon, birds, and their organs were also done, along with my special filled rolls, bacons, and sausages, all of which were plucked and wrapped. Oh, I was feeling smug, and I wasn't sure how my dear husbands, of whom I had 14, would react to this.
As supernatural felines in human guise, and vampires to boot, we possessed our own specialized playroom. However, since we also assumed canine forms, I had prepared a separate section of treats specifically for our animal selves.
A large pile of smoked ears, tracheas, joints, and snouts was gathered, and I could already picture myself in my red fox form, savoring a large joint or trachea, chewing on it for hours. I intended to present all of this as a mere "test kitchen" endeavor, carefully minimizing my smugness and projecting an air of innocence.
This was important because my husbands sometimes became quite tense when I, so to speak, flexed my powers. I had devised a clever plan: what would keep the men occupied while I, in my innocent guise, indulged my smugness?
Having gathered everything I needed, I returned to the kitchen, concealing much of my amusement.
Via our private female channel, I informed Mariella, "Watch and learn, my beta. This is how much of an alpha I am. Can you truly imagine Damon having any chance of reigning me in?"
She responded, "I'm coming. Those children are wild; I have no idea why my trio is all over the place."
I replied, "I neutralized Damon's obedience pheromones. Children need their own minds, not to be little dolls for him."
Suffice it to say, mealtime had already been a grand spectacle, with mayhem and chaos seemingly omnipresent.
Mariella calmly entered the kitchen and sat down, just as I arrived with my cart. I approached the food preparation area and let out a sharp whistle, drawing my husbands' attention.
"Now," I announced aloud, "I've been in a bit of an experimental mood and have conducted a kind of test run. I would very much appreciate it if you could check if this is something we can use or refine. As I said, it's a test run – born out of curiosity and with time on my hands."
Charles, who was also in the kitchen preparing desserts, approached me. "Well, honey, what do you have? Let's see what your punishment will be then," he said, pressing close.
Maintaining my innocent facade, I grabbed the first packet and handed it not to Charles, but to Damon. It was smoked beef heart.
For Charles, I presented a whole smoked sweetbread, explaining, "I smoked these organs. I'm not sure if they're usable or tasty, but I wanted to experiment. Since we have so many cooks, this is for you to determine if they're suitable for human consumption or for our feline forms. However, I've also prepared something for my animalistic side."
Charles placed the sweetbread on the counter, his voice soft. He wasn't entirely pleased, as his increasingly dominant and pack-leader nature, coupled with Wulfe's daily revelations about my using my powers against him, had left him less happy.
"Well, honey, what have you planned for your feral side?" he asked.
"Treats, like this," I replied, digging out a large, smoked bovine trachea.
What happened next was truly surprising. Mariella, transforming into her serval form, approached Charles, who was holding the trachea. She purred and nudged him, eager for the treat, her feline form clearly excited.
Damon, however, walked over, snatched the trachea, and said to Mariella, "Well, my cutie, come on, let daddy give you a nice steak. I have plans for this, not for kitties."
Mariella meowed, demanding the treat, but Damon gave her a piece of fatty pork, which she devoured with gusto. I then unwrapped the next set of my smoked pig and cow ears, which again sent Mariella into a frenzy. Soon, a few of the Salvatores flashed their yellow eyes.
However, Number Five intervened, saying, "My love, these will add such flavor to soups. After they've been boiled, we can chop them up, and they'll be perfect."
Wulfe also came over to inspect my treats. He snatched my smoked joints and some bones, placing them into our stockpots. I rolled my eyes – so much for my kitty treats – but I still had a little more. Mariella, still in her serval form, approached to smell what remained, much to the dark amusement of Numbers One and Two, who kept her in line.
It was quite amusing, really, to observe the Salvatores in the kitchen. Though their faces bore a striking resemblance, each possessed distinct expressions, hairstyles, gestures, and even unique ways of speaking and walking. They were like a Salvatore hive, identical yet individual.
Number One had a white tuft on the right side of his forehead amidst his shiny blue-black hair. Number Two had it on the left. Number Three sported white across his entire forehead, while Number Four had a skunk-like stripe running down the middle of his head. Number Five had a tuft on his right temple, and Number Six had a white tuft on his left temple. Number Seven displayed a white mark above his right ear, and Number Eight had one on the left. Numbers Nine and Ten both had their tufts at the back of their heads, though I did not have to see their tufts in order to identify them. This was because each Salvatore emitted unique yet similar pheromones, and they each had their own mannerisms and clothing.
Currently, my cart was being emptied at an alarming rate. I could detect a sharp, tangy note in their pheromones, indicating their disapproval. However, their egos, which I had counted on, had evidently been piqued.
They were eager to demonstrate their capabilities with my test runs, after which they would undoubtedly smugly inform me how to improve them. I didn't particularly mind this prospect, as I was given the initial opportunity to conduct the tests, and the entire endeavor was my idea.
Meanwhile, Mariella, still in her feline form, was purring and weaving around the men's legs, clearly seeking treats. Her antics even managed to elicit a genuine smile from Charles, which was rather surprising, as she was usually the last among us to fully embrace her feline side.
Now, I wasn't sure if it was the allure of the treats or some form of self-learning she had undergone, but her persistent and incredibly cute behavior was hilarious to witness. Her spotted fur glistened, her stubby tail flicked, and her oversized ears were pricked forward with eagerness.
She behaved with such remarkable feline grace, purring and even yowling at times, causing the Salvatores to chuckle and occasionally offer her treats, which, in turn, depleted the very treats I had intended for my animal sides.
Charles then approached me, saying, "I see, honey, you are as active as ever. You've certainly given us a lot of good ideas. Now, I'm going to make something out of these sausages, as you've prepared so many of them."
He picked up a large pile of sausage links and moved to the counter to chop and prepare them, tasting them as he worked. Mariella, smelling the sausages, also approached Charles, purring and nudging him, clearly trying to bribe him into giving her some as well.
Damon, Number One, send his voice in my mind via telepathy, "Oh, baby, my Mimi, you're quite spry. I must say, I see how you've twisted this situation to work in your favor, but know this: I'm onto you. I'm not as easily manipulated as these others."
His tone was laced with a hint of irritation. Unbeknownst to me, Wulfe somehow overheard my thoughts, which were meant only for myself.
This made him grin, and I thought sarcastically, "Oh, you, my husband, you're *so* much easier."
Wulfe seemed pleased, having incorporated my delicious smoked joints into his broth, giving it a whole new dimension. I still had a few packages left, and one of them, well, it allowed me to be quite animalistic and have fun with the kids, too. Wulfe always enjoyed observing my thoughts; I was often sarcastic, and my language could be described as… inspirational, at the very least.
I took my package and headed to the living room, where the toddlers were running and playing, chattering away.
"Time for Mom to have some fun, so be ready," I announced.
May smiled and replied, "Go ahead. You know how much the kids love our animal forms."
I opened my package to reveal a large, split cow femur, brimming with marrow and perfect for chewing, with plenty of meat still attached. It would be glorious for my red wolf form.
Placing the bone on the floor, I shifted into my wolf form.
The children giggled, exclaiming, "Mommy doggy!"
They rushed over, hugging and petting me as I settled between my paws with my prize. Soon, Mariella, in her serval form, joined us, drawn by the scent of my treat. The children adored her feline form, chasing, kissing, and petting her.
My treat was perfect; I hadn't even reached the marrow yet when Wulfe's voice boomed from nearby, "Naughty doggie, I could put that in my broth, you know. Looks tasty, and there's a *fucking* lot of meat left."
Sadie looked at me and said, "Mommy, doggie, eat."
Just then, several sets of footsteps approached.
Number One scooped Sadie into his arms and said, "Yeah, Mommy's a doggy who eats. Now, young lady, we need to get your hair under control."
Sadie furrowed her brow. "No, I don't wanna," she declared, glaring up at Damon.
Her intense gaze told me my daughter was once again digging her heels in, embracing her supernatural white-hot rage.
Damon's voice echoed in my mind, a clear directive: "Do not interfere; let me handle this. And baby, give the bone to Wulfe; it's not ideal for you."
Number Five then presented me with a large bowl of raw meat, took my chewing treat, and handed it to Wulfe, who hummed contentedly before carrying it back to his broth.
Meanwhile, Damon held Sadie, speaking to her calmly, "Sadie, no, we're not going to have a tantrum over hair, are we? If you have a tantrum, Daddy will have a meal. Do you know Daddy can literally eat your big feelings? They're quite yummy."
Sadie quieted, though she pouted. Damon then carried her to a chair and gently began to brush and untangle her hair, communicating with her telepathically. I couldn't discern his exact words, but I felt the message within the collective consciousness of the hive. My attention, however, was entirely consumed by my own meal in my red wolf form.
Red wolves, typically a blend of grey wolf and coyote, are amplified in our supernatural form, making us larger and stronger while retaining a distinctive appearance. Our ears are more prominent, our limbs longer, and our coloring is particularly unique.
Most of us possess actual red fur, although mine displays a mix of blackish, reddish, and lighter white tones here and there. This specific form, which my dear husbands hadn't seen often, drew the attention of Number Two and Number Four, who also came to check on me and bring food.
Number Four commented, "Stay in your red wolf's form for a bit; lemme check ya over."
His tone and pronunciation were, as usual, lazily drawled, reflecting his generally relaxed and playful manner. This contrasted with Number One, who spoke with sharp, crisp precision, much like an Englishman, while Number Two consistently infused his speech with a hint of edge and danger.
Number three had always carried a bit of seduction or love in his tone, and he was rarely very dominant or overbearing. Number one, on the other hand, was all of those things all the time. Number five was intense; his tone had a sharpness as well, but he was calmer—not as quick to explode as number one.
Six was one of the gentler ones. Seven liked to sing and hum—a trait he had gotten from me, as he had been captive in one of the ornamental crystal carvings I kept on my desk while working. I usually had my playlist on or hummed quietly under my breath.
Eight was quiet and carried trauma; he could be very unpredictable from time to time. For example, if you touched him the wrong way, you might wake up after your neck healed because he had snapped it. He rarely explained why or what triggered such reactions.
Nine and ten were much like number one: sharp, crisp words, unyielding when it came to obedience, and even more impatient and stubborn than number one.
I was just standing in the middle of the living room while number four groped my wolf form, peeking at my mouth, ears, and my holes, checking me out, and muttering softly under his breath. I just knew it might only be a matter of time before he insisted on an actual medical examination of my wolf form.
My life was varied—it was fun, tense from time to time, and filled with God knows what: everything from love and lust to laughter, glee, happiness, and all those big feelings.