It had been a few days since our little encounter with Adam, and I knew Damon and Mariella had stopped their wild fuck session. However, they still spent time downstairs, primarily working. Damon, along with several other Salvatores, was hard at work trying to sort out my storage rooms.
These rooms weren't easy to organize, as we had very few ready ones, making it almost a necessity to create new ones. This involved moving items in and out of various rooms, plenty of cursing, opening box after box, all while simultaneously spending time with the kids and managing paperwork.
The children were all upstairs, happily playing together, and it was truly wonderful to witness. I had bought dolls for the girls, but they had no interest in plastic toys when they had their baby siblings. Instead, they preferred to spend time with the babies, putting them to sleep, and engaging in many other activities. To be frank, this situation truly tested the patience of Adam, Charles, Wulfe, and the boys, as well as my own.
As most of the time, it was letting them choose, letting them do things to themselves, and just being so fucking patient and not to intervene too early, but not to let them struggle.
It was now around 7:30 AM, and I walked into the kitchen. It was my turn to cook today. We had a lot of ingredients, and I was planning to make tortilla pockets for dinner, having already prepared and reserved a significant amount of chopped meat for myself. I assumed that the Salvatores and Mariella would remain downstairs, occupied with their work, and wouldn't bother me.
Our oldest daughters, who were grown, would assist the toddlers with waking up. They would then direct them to the kitchen, ensure they used the potty, and change them if necessary. As we began preparing breakfast, the older girls would attend to the babies, bringing them to the table when they were ready. Subsequently, the toddlers would serve the babies their food and help with chopping ingredients, all while choosing what they wanted to eat. It was our responsibility to offer them good choices and help them plate their food, which in turn encouraged them to eat much better.
I was currently handling the preparation, which meant I couldn't complete everything just yet. My little helpers were meant to be a part of this operation, meaning they would be cooking with me. Men would help out as well. I was currently taking stuff from the fridge and putting it on plates so toddlers could pick and choose what they wanted, for their rolls, toasts, or whatever.
This was one task that truly required a great deal of time and patience, but the reward was immense. It was such a wonderful experience to be a part of that I hadn't even told Mariella or Damon about it. However, a few of the Salvatores knew – specifically, numbers five, eight, nine, and ten – as Mariella kept the others busy sorting through their belongings.
As for my little intervention with Adam, well, it had certainly brought about its own consequences, especially since Adam had more or less boasted about it.
I was taking the big chuck roast, already prepared from yesterday, intending to slice it thinly for rolls. Suddenly, Number Eight appeared, coiling around me like a cobra. He kissed my neck, his hands exploring my body, his scent enveloping me.
"Baby, what are you doing?" he murmured close to my ear. "I'm free, so use me."
He was trying to become the next victim of my little intervention, and he wasn't the only one. Charles, the boys, even Wulfe and Number Five were eager to experience it, as Adam had boasted. I just hoped Number One or Mariella wouldn't catch wind of this, as they might get jealous. Dealing with Number One in this way felt a bit iffy, mainly because I wasn't sure of his stance on this kind of domination yet.
"Morning, Mimi," Mariella's overly cheerful voice chirped from behind me. "Oh, wow, you have company. What are you doing? I mean, the kids are going to wake up soon, and you haven't even started."
Wulfe, who was also on kitchen duty today, replied to her, "Yeah, we're just getting everything ready. The kids are part of making breakfast; they love it. It takes time, but it gives them an appetite, and they enjoy cooking for the babies."
Mariella then asked, "Oh, have you told Damon?"
Number Eight, still close to me, hands trying to find their way under my clothes, said in a calm, bit of a cruel voice, "Relax, pussydoll. I know, and we've been part of this. But then again, my guess is you were referring to Number One, not the rest of us."
Number Eight had adopted a bit of my attitude, and his wording was quite brutal.
Mariella stiffened and stammered, "Well, yes, I just informed him, and he's on his way here, so he might want to see this or be part of it. I'm not sure..."
Charles, who had just walked into the kitchen, softly said to Mariella, "We've got this. No need for you, little one, to bother your head with this. This is something we parents do, and it takes time and patience."
Mariella snapped her mouth shut. Charles's barb about her not being a wonderful parent had clearly hit home, as he had intended.
Mariella said, "No need to bristle, Charles. We need to talk sometime. You seem to have issues with me, and for you being my protector—as I am yours—that's not very useful if you harbor some sort of ill will towards me. It might hinder your ability as a protector."
Then she turned to number eight. "Yeah, I was referring to number one. I do know you are also Damon, and you have some issues as well. I am willing and able to tackle them, given time. And Mimi, don't even think I have forgotten you—you are one of my projects as well." Her voice grew snappier as she became increasingly riled up.
This, however, was catnip for number eight, who wanted to get her even more pissed off. So he continued to grope me, purring seductively into my ear, trying to make himself the next subject of my treatment.
"Baby, you know I'm free and willing to experience something new... if you need..."
Wulfe smirked. He had been hinting at his willingness as well, and although I knew I had methods of restraining even Wulfe—utterly helpless—I was a bit reluctant to show him. It might lead to a one-time deal, and I wasn't sure how much his ego could actually take.
"What are you referring to, Damon?" Mariella asked.
Now addressing number eight, who was focused on nipping my neck, licking me, and letting his warm, dominant hands continue to map my body, even as it was almost time for the kids to come in. We weren't afraid to show them intimacy—hugging, groping, and kissing—but it usually made them jealous; they wanted their daddies' attention, not mine.
Wulfe replied in a cool voice, "Ask Adam. Let's just say that our dear alpha female educated a few other females in the art of pleasuring men and used Adam as an example. Since he's been bragging about his experience, well, we volunteers are eager to be part of the next lesson as well."
Mariella stated, "Oh, but with toddlers, knives aren't safe for kids, and Number One being dad, maybe he should know too."
Number Eight tensed. He released me, took a few steps toward Mariella, and said in an extremely soft voice. He was one of the most impatient and reactive of the Salvatores, and he was learning to feel, to be hurt. Mariella's forgetfulness, or perhaps her dismissal of him actually being one of her toddlers' fathers, hit him hard.
"You, darling, seem to have dementia, or maybe some sort of amnesia, as you've forgotten the fact that I am one of the fathers of your three toddlers. I'm not Number One; he's a mere breeder when it comes to Mimi and our five. But for me, I will take care of my own kid, despite what you fantasize about Number One."
Mariella gulped and said, "I'm sorry, I was once again insensitive. Let me make this up to you. I want to see what this is all about, and maybe you can show me. I'm a rotten mom, only good for a sex toy or a submissive. Damn, I should be better," she lamented.
But Number Eight wasn't that easily swayed; a bit of self-pity wouldn't have softened him.
I communicated with Mariella via our shared hive mind, saying, "Be careful. Number Eight is one of the most impatient ones, even more than Number One. He's also learning to feel actual feelings instead of just fucking and chasing pleasure, which isn't the answer. So, he's a bit immature, and you've got to be careful with him. Treat him gently, but don't talk down to him."
Mariella replied, "Yeah, I got it, but I'm not good at this, not at all. All I do is blurt something nasty from my mouth and make things worse."
My retort was quite blunt but honest: "Think before you say anything. Smell the pheromones. Try to make it sound a little less selfish and let him be a man for you. Make sure Number One isn't the only one for you, unless you can be absolutely sure that's all you want and need. In that case, I can take care of all of my husbands and not have to worry about you hurting them, as you have only eyes and abilities for one of them."
Sure, I was being catty, but again, this was me. Mariella, however, adopted a bit of a snappier attitude in response to my unspoken challenge. She spoke to me via our hive mind, so the men wouldn't have any idea – well, except maybe Wulfe, who had moved next to me, grabbed my hand, pressing our scars together, merging our minds even more.
Mariella's voice dripped with irritation as she spat at me, "Oh, you think you own them all? That I only have Number One, that I can't attract others, right? So you can have them all and leave me with just one grumpy old bastard, is that it?"
This outburst made Wulfe smirk.
He telepathically communicated to me, "Oh, she's trying to rile you up. How are you going to reply? Shall we have some fun while you two start fighting over us? Please, my unicorn, let's make this fun."
I rolled my eyes. My men were scattered everywhere, and now my dear beta female had a brilliant idea to challenge me. I could have easily made her back down with a few bursts of my powers, but since Wulfe wanted some inter-pack drama, and for some reason, I was actually itching to show her.
"So, you think you can charm others besides Number One? Is that it?" I said aloud. "That you can take them away from me? Please, don't even try. Or, sure, try and give me some good entertainment for a while."
I hadn't noticed Number One walking in. He stopped as he heard my retort and saw Mariella's expression. Of course, Wulfe, being Wulfe, had already told him what happened, causing him to smirk as well.
Mariella said confidently, "I am more of a woman than you. I can and will charm them. I will be a perfect wife, and you have no men, no Salvatores fawning over you and your brats."
This made Number One say, very softly and dangerously, to Mariella, "Careful there, darlin'. Those are my children you're referring to as brats."
Mariella gulped and stammered as she noticed Number One staring at her. "Bad wording, sorry. I mean, children. I was just getting a bit heated because Mimi here thinks she can keep the Salvatores as her own, and no one wants to be with me."
She kept her voice steady.
Number One grunted. Eight stood still near Mariella, oozing danger, as he too loved my toddlers very much. Hearing her call them brats did not sit well with him.
Number one's intervention halted number eight's plan to scare the shit out of Mariella. Meanwhile, I was also growing a bit cocky and arrogant, and I relished seeing Mariella bristle. Thus, I knew exactly how to make her truly insecure.
In a lazy, arrogant tone, I declared, "Oh, please, Mariella. Compared to you and your escapades with my husbands, Salvatores and I have an actual history, a life well before you came aboard and used the rest of them as sex slaves. We have memories, good and bad. We know each other on a level that has nothing to do with G-points or arousal triggers, but with actual life. Our history gives me a fucking good edge over you, so sure, try to spread your legs; it's one thing you're good at."
Mariella pursed her lips and took a breath as if to retort. At that moment, I decided to show her. Number one was watching me, his expression neutral, but I could feel our bond, and he seemed a little unsure. He realized we indeed had a history, and I had never actually utilized it.
So, should I? Or was our history something to even be proud of, as he mostly recalled times he had let me down? Consequently, I was being quite naughty, and Wulfe, still holding my hand, smiled even more, recognizing my subtle manipulation once again.
In a calm voice, I addressed Damon, number one: "Do you remember that time I spent in Tennessee for that damn PR gig as a beautician?"
He smiled and replied, "Yeah, I do. You were hilarious. I mean, your expression when that – what was it? – 50-year-old hag came to you and asked to look like Taylor Swift or Britney Spears, and she reeked of cigarettes."
I rolled my eyes and smiled.
Mariella remained silent as I continued, "I did try, but come on, her face was sagging, and smoking like that for the last 40 years had done no favors. It was hardly my fault if she looked like a clown; her wrinkles just soaked up all the makeup."
Damon laughed softly. He had been present that day, observing me with a mix of jealousy and possessiveness. There had even been glimpses of some rather nasty individuals coming after me that he'd hoped to spot and deal with in his little sheds, but he had remained seated, suppressing his laughter.
It was customary in that salon for the customer to dictate their desired look, and this hag simply didn't understand. And I, myself, had refrained from telling her directly that nothing could make her resemble Britney Spears when she looked more like a 90-year-old Polly Holliday in a cancer ward.
As I mentioned, Damon and I have a shared history, and this was actually the first time I had utilized it. Reflecting on our normal life, not the trauma or difficult times, but these fun moments too, made Mariella very unsure. She stood there, uncertain of what she could do, and whether she could truly have Damon if I were determined to snatch him myself.
One might question what the fuck was wrong with me to become so possessive so suddenly. However, it wasn't that I actually wanted all the Salvatores; rather, I knew precisely which buttons to push to make Mariella pay close attention. By making her start vying for the attention of as many Salvatores as possible and keeping them nicely occupied, I ensured they wouldn't bother me all day with attempts to dominate or order me around.
No, this was all me, the alpha female, an unstoppable snowball rolling downhill without anyone really stopping me. Of course, Wulfe, being Wulfe, had an inkling of my motives, but then again, he enjoyed working with me and also doing things in the kitchen with the kids, so he was in on this little ploy as well.
Well, Mariella would soon see what kind of family life we truly had, especially concerning "number one" (Damon). The children would come in their pajamas to make breakfast for the babies and themselves, and they would also chat and help out as much as they could. Oh, I loved our mornings; they truly made my soul sing.