As I was walking out of the laundry room, Mariella had already left because Number One needed her. I suspect he might have been jealous. I was idly planning my own little ploy, knowing it would take time to get everything just right. It wasn't always simple to be a creature like me, loved and cared for by so many, knowing they had every reason to monitor me and do everything else they did.
When I reached the kitchen, Number Two and Number Four were cooking. They both looked at me sharply, as if they hadn't seen my dress before. I was now on baby duty and preparing to warm milk for the tiniest ones. It would take a bit of time to feed them, but I loved to sit, let them feed, and just hold them. Of course, wearing this designer dress might irritate my husbands, as they had their own ideas about fancy clothes like this.
"Baby, we will feed the kids. You go and change, and let me pick more suitable attire for you. Those pumps are to die for, and the dress, you know, honey, it's not for everyday use," Number Two said calmly.
He had seen my entire outfit and knew the price of the clothes and shoes very well. It wasn't that he would mind if we went shopping after our time in the pocket universe was over, but still.
A sharp headache hit me as he dug into how I had acquired this dress, and soon he knew about my three big bags of custom-made pieces and my shoe collection, which I had managed to keep secret, even from my rather nosy girls. My shoes were my favorites, and again, my people had just found them and brought them in, as my orders had been a bit too broad.
Given the circumstances, I had little choice when Number Two appeared. He took my arm, draped his arm around my shoulders, and led me to one of the bedrooms. My bags were already there, though he'd teleported them, along with my shoes, somewhere. He then proceeded to the wardrobe and, with his customary efficiency honed from many previous occasions, selected my outfit.
He handed me the clothes, then cast a sharp glance at my loose braid.
"Go on, change," he instructed, "and let me fix your hair. You don't want the children yanking it, do you?"
I rolled my eyes, but took the pile of clothes and went behind the partition to dress.
As I removed my comfortable, gorgeous dress, my skin prickled, and goosebumps rose in the cool air. The moment I placed the dress over the partition, Number Two snatched it up, along with my Louboutins. While they might occasionally provide me with heels, it's rarely my best pair.
I then put on a pair of black, tight velvet jeans, cinched with a wide golden belt featuring a decorative buckle. Next, I donned a short, silk cashmere button-down shirt that barely reached the waistband of my jeans. It was very form-fitting, made of a light turquoise, slightly textured fabric, and had semi-long, puffy sleeves. I left a few buttons undone and walked out.
I went to sit at my dressing table as Number Two had gathered a variety of products for my hair. He opened my braid, began brushing and blow-drying it, fluffing it, and applying various sprays. It was clear it would take some time for him to finish styling my hair.
He softly inquired, "Babe, I've meant to ask you for ages, but did you kill those shitheads who made you eat your team? I know it was too much for me to handle at the time, and Wulfe took care of it, but still, did they get off scot-free?"
My reply was simple: "Yeah, they got away with it. In my job, it's a useless waste of energy to try and kill everyone who has wronged me. If I miss my opportunity, so be it; it's just a waste of resources to go after them. There are always people needing to be saved, and sometimes those shitheads continue their torture, and I'll get them in time. But then, sometimes they just get away with it, go underground, and it's done for."
His expression was not happy. His eyes flashed dangerously, and his mouth was a tight line; tension was across his face, making him look sharper, more feral.
He said, "Well, I'm a vampire, millennia old, and I have my guys. I'm not king, so to say, but I'm not without resources. And you can be sure that once this is over, I will make a team, my elite group, and put them on the hunt for every last shithead who has ever laid a finger on you. And I don't ask for your permission. There will be no mercy; no amount of regret will help. I will send a message, and it will be clear for all of them to see."
He practically hissed his declaration, and I could feel several Salvatores agreeing with him.
Well, sure, he had ways of finding my enemies, and it was just good for him to hunt them down. I had plenty to share. And who knows, maybe the message would do some good, give me a bit of freedom, and make my enemies think twice before coming after me.
He continued, "And then we will deal with Project Omega. I know Number One hasn't truly delved into it, but we have a game plan, so it's something we will implement. Again, I'm not asking for permission, just informing you. And before you start coming up with reasons why not, or try to find flaws in our plan, well, good luck, because there are none. You see, living with you has changed us, our way of thinking. Combine my mind with your penchant for making backup plans, and backups for those, and you have me. I've learned to make backup plans just as you do, and I have my experience and resources backing me, so our plan will be pretty damn foolproof."
I was surprised by this, but let's test it.
I said to him, "Let me give you one of my threats, an old one that not even Alaric has managed to make go away, nor have I. Let's see what you will come up with, and I will give you all of my plans, ideas, and what is already done regarding this threat."
He nodded, his expression sharpening; he was ready as ever.
I said, my voice neutral, as I knew this might hit him hard as well, "Well, it's that Polish guy, the one who likes gaseous metals, the one who imprisoned me, Number One, and Adam back in the day. He got away and had a ton of knowledge about me. He sells it to Sarks, to whoever pays, and he hides. There's no known address; his name is Faux. There are no hits on facial recognition, and as you might know, gaseous metals are used in industrial settings quite a lot nowadays, so it's useless for me to try to chase them as there are just too many new companies with legitimate reasons to acquire them and make them. And I haven't found victims, nor remains, meaning he most likely got rid of them."
Number Two was quiet, but his attentiveness was evident.
He said, "I have just shared this with everyone, I mean everyone, even with the girls. And let me say, Number One is not happy. Adam and Charles hit the gym, the boys are out hunting, and several Salvatores are planning. Wulfe is planning quite a few spells to track or mark this bastard on a spectral level, which would then make it easier for magic to pinpoint him."
This experience was just one more example of my new lifestyle. No longer was I handling everything alone; Salvatore was backing me up, and it was nothing short of amazing. However, I was unsure if this support would last. Would reality catch up to me once their time here was over? Would they leave for the Azores, succumb to their lust and Mariella's cunt, and no longer feel the need to be my husband or father of our children? My cynical, skeptical side remained wary, as it always did.
I couldn't fully trust Salvatore, but Wulfe, Adam, and Charles were a different matter. Mariella's manipulations wouldn't sway them. They possessed a deep-seated need to be with me, regardless of our circumstances. Their love was something I could rely on. Who knew that perhaps Salvatores might even surprise me in the future?
Three days passed, and my plan continued to develop. It seemed the opportune moment to execute it was approaching. I was relaxing in one of my lounges in the late afternoon. The babies were asleep, and the toddlers were also napping, affording me some personal time. Mariella and the two Salvatores, number one and two, were upstairs. I could overhear their conversation in the corridor.
Mariella whined, "Damon, why don't we take a little break? I mean, the girls can handle the kids, Mimi is running the show as usual, and I need some husbandly attention."
She practically purred, oozing lust.
Number one responded in a clipped, impatient tone, "No, I've already told you no. It's not the time for you to spread your legs and assume all cocks belong to you. I have my duties; God knows those culverts need attention. Plus, dear wife, tomorrow is Monday, and the kids will go to daycare. So, we're needed to shuffle a lot of kids to daycare. I'm wondering, do you need to go to work? Are you perhaps a bit bored and need to spend time at your shop, do something useful, rather than seeing me as a dick with legs?"
He was pissed off, but Mariella then moved on to her second attempt. "How about you, my husband," she purred, "some time with me, in our bedroom? You could tell me something from your past; let me ease your burden. Physical pleasure is the best way."'
Number Two's reply was of a similar caliber, though delivered in a much more relaxed manner. "Oh, dollface, you mean you would suck me off? Is that so? Hmm, let me think. Nope, I don't need a wet Hoover right now. What I need is someone with a brain in their head, able to function and not beg for cock like that old whore in Amsterdam."
Mariella fell silent; her grand plan of seducing and garnering attention for herself had once again fallen flat. From Salvatore's expression, it seemed she had been attempting this for some time, perhaps a few days, as they had lost all tolerance for this sort of desperation.
I hadn't shared my plan with Wulfe or anyone else, but it seemed like it might soon be a good time to implement it. Mariella was no longer the flavor of the month, so to speak. My plan was rather dark, perhaps, or at least Mariella might not find it so enjoyable.
However, I wasn't going to make her a martyr, but she had been misbehaving, meaning our husbands were quite bored with her. Consequently, they would be less inclined to see her as a victim and more likely to view my little plan as something she deserved.
For myself, I had no idea what would happen once they saw my plan in all its glory. And the best part? Well, it wouldn't just be me dealing with Mariella. With a bit of luck on my side, Damon might get involved as well.
Knowing him, adding my plan to the mix – a very vampiric one – might make Damon give Mariella one hell of a lesson she wouldn't forget anytime soon, and she might just behave a bit better afterward.
However, the aftermath, in my case, was a bit of a question mark. I knew just how much Salvatore and Wulfe kept me under control. Unleashing my vampire side once again for my own amusement could have some repercussions for me. But I was ready anyway, not afraid of the consequences, as my plan would give me so much pleasure and power.
I would also be fulfilling my duty at the same time. But Damon's reaction? I could hope for one specific kind, but since I couldn't predict the future, how on earth would I know?
The room, which I called the "brown lounge," was adorned with warm, coffee-colored rugs and shimmering latte-brown curtains. Black and dark mauve sofas contrasted with my own bright red chair, an odd one out. Although worn, I had draped it with a dark grey velvet throw, making it the perfect spot to sink into, pull my legs underneath me, and truly relax.
Beside me on the small table sat a bottle of ice-cold prosecco and a crystal wineglass, though it remained empty. I was deliberately letting my bloodlust build, believing it would enhance my plan and make my pheromones more potent.
Suddenly, soft footsteps approached, and Ashley walked in.
She plopped onto another chair, a leather one, and declared, "Oh, is that good stuff? I love prosecco, let me have a taste."
I nodded lazily as she reached for a wineglass, and I poured some for her.
She sipped and groaned happily. "Oh, this is tasty! What are you planning here, Mom?"
Even though Ashley wasn't my biological child, she called me "Mom" because I had been more of a mother to her than Mariella ever was. While this had once been a point of contention, Mariella had eventually accepted it, recognizing she wasn't naturally maternal.
It wasn't a big deal to Mariella that Ashley called me Mom; she simply wasn't built for that role yet. I knew, however, that time would eventually awaken her instincts, though perhaps not here, but in the real world. It would take several years before she was ready to act as a beta female in our pack, which numbered thirty individuals. But that would happen only after our time in this perfect life concluded.
Ashley was wearing white pants and a fluffy green shirt. Her red hair was styled in a braided crown, a creation by Salvatores. She wore moderate makeup, and I could discern Damon's facial structure combined with Mariella's pouty mouth.
To this, add Mariella's green eyes, though their color was diluted to match Damon's ice blue. She possessed Damon's haughty and cold expression, but when she smiled, it illuminated her face, bringing more of Mariella's features to the forefront.
She stood about four inches taller than me, and also taller than Mariella, but she hadn't quite reached Damon's height. Damon was a foot taller than I, and Mariella was several inches shorter than he.
All these facts seamlessly flowed through my mind as it analyzed everything and everyone around me. My mind was simply designed that way, and all this knowledge was logged deep within my brain. I would never forget it, nor this moment, because my memory was configured to keep everything.
Ashley, a bright young woman, observed me and said, "It must be hard having a mind like yours. Everything just keeps pouring in, and you have no way to stop it or choose what comes in. Thank goodness we have Salvatores and Wulfe, so your mind doesn't blow up."
Softly, I replied, "Did you know that my mind actually blew apart once? I ceased to exist, and if not for very special circumstances, I wouldn't be here today."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Tell me more, if you like," she asked. "I know how traumatic your memories can be, so if it's too much, never mind. I'm just eternally curious."
I took a breath and began, "Well, it all started when Mariella was once again out of control. It was after those seven years of loneliness, and it had been quite a while since we had all struggled to find each other. Mariella, being possessive during those years, found it hard for me to have a relationship with Number One or anyone else. She was acting up, blaming me, and coming up with all sorts of reasons for her to have all the Salvatores to herself. And then, she once really riled me up."
I glanced at the light brown fixtures, trying to anchor myself in the present and let the past remain the past. "I took her to the gym, and I really beat the shit out of her. She was capitalizing on this and manipulated Damon to attack me, and then the rest of the pack as well, making it look like I had lost control and attacked her unprovoked."
I swallowed, recalling that the next part was not so pleasant. The scent of burning paper and old books wafted to my nose as Wulfe walked in. He squeezed himself into the large chair next to me, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close.
Simultaneously, he began to put some serious shielding in my mind. I could also feel the Salvatores getting ready. I had never let them take this away from me, nor had I shown this even to Wulfe. But again, my protectors and husbands took this opportunity. As telepaths, it was their chance to once again take the shit from my past away.
My voice was sullen as I confessed, memories bubbling to the surface. However, this time, twelve telepaths in my mind snatched them before they could reach me.
"They killed me," I began. "Number One pulled as much power from me as he could, drugging and draining me several times, and injecting substances to slow new blood formation. But since he hadn't told the others, each Salvatore knew my weaknesses. They came one by one, injecting me with harmful, even lethal, substances like tomato, coriander, thistle, and drugs, poisoning me injection by injection. Adam, Charles, and the boys joined in, sneering, yelling, kicking, and beating me to teach me a lesson."
No memories surfaced, so I continued, "It took five days before they let me go, as Mariella was fine. I teleported to my safest place, a private island still solely in my name. I called Colin for help, and once he arrived, it took twenty weeks. I died over 354 times during the first twelve weeks. Each time, Colin tried his utmost to prevent my death, but I was too sick. I never lost my straps, so it wasn't a so-called true death, but a death nonetheless."
Wulfe shuddered. I knew Colin had told him something, though not everything. When the full truth emerged, he was furious and wanted to make all the bad go away.
My story continued: "After I recovered, I returned to the pack. I didn't tell anyone what had happened, but my ordeal had made me allergic to everyone in the pack. My fear of all things medical was blown wide open. I was a pitiful skeleton, weighing 30 kilos or less, barely sleeping. My whole body was a mess, and Colin visited every other day, trying his best. The worst part? No one cared, not even Charles. Mariella had positioned herself as the perfect victim, and my allergies to them provided another way for them to distress me. Their touch caused hives and shortness of breath, making them smile."
Wulfe squeezed me closer. My mind, previously hazy and confused due to telepathic interference, was now reeling from the mental rot being spewed. I knew then that I had to tell my story, to its bitter end. My voice was quiet as I spoke, and Ashley listened intently. This was a wake-up call for her too, a stark reminder that our lives had not always been pleasant, perfect, or loving.
"However, I carried on. Wulfe helped me, and I buried my rage. I stopped myself from being allergic to them and moved forward. I spent more time in the fleas while the pack enjoyed holidays and road trips. Then, I stumbled upon Nick's plan to wake up Annaliese. Even back then, I had stakes that could kill him, and I confronted him. Unfortunately, Freya staged a scene, making it appear as though I was having a secret affair with Nick. This caused Damon to rip everything from me: my vampire marriage, my flank organ, my embryos, my chakras, my magical symbol, everything. He wouldn't listen at all."
Wulfe purred beside me, trying to keep me calm. Simultaneously, I felt love flooding my mind as the Salvatores extracted each bit of those memories, permanently, even from my backups. They were healing those old scars with their love. All of the mental rot was drained fiercely, and the cavern that was left was filled with love and wonderful memories.
Ashley was pale, yet she remained quiet as I continued my story. "So, I was alone, and Nick saw his opportunity. A few days later, he snatched me, and then there was Angelus, fear demons, drugs, and so on. His plan was to break my mind, make my body a breeding vessel, and then slowly pull my mind back into coherence, all while being manipulated by him. This way, I would have no idea about the truth, and he would have a truly strong heir, as he had always envisioned. Of course, this was all Freya's plan. She needed a new generation to draw power from, and I happened to be the most powerful creature in the world, the perfect mother for the next generation. But I escaped. I used my rage as a net; my mind was shattered, but my net kept it under control so I could escape, leave my goodbyes, and do this on my terms. And I did it. It was my so-called funeral, which shattered 'number four,' making him a brand new version of the Salvatores, and his idea made it happen that 'number one' was able to pull my mind back together."
Ashley was quiet. To her, this seemed like a story, and it was hard for her to understand that this had actually happened to me. But it did. It is the epitome of my life: mess, trauma, healing, love, moving on, and maybe one day, my life will be a bit better and less traumatic too.