The ocean's scent reached me before I even saw it, calming my mind. I knew my little revelation would surface eventually, but for now, it was about enjoying this moment, being with my pack, and learning more about each other. Elena and Mariella, both chatty, were deep in conversation. Tim and Taylor spoke with Wulfe, occasionally glancing my way; I couldn't guess their topic.
My thoughts drifted to my past, my relationships. My sadomasochistic nature compelled me to test my boundaries with Damon as Queen, eager to run, bolted. The powerful horse beneath me felt exhilarating. We often did this; Damon didn't always appreciate it, but Thunder, equally eager, spurred him onward. I slowed the Queen, letting her breathe, savoring the incredible feeling.
Even though I believed Bridgette's little plot to save other Salvatores and place them for safekeeping had left only Number One, I was wrong. Parts of them remained, and they were retrieved when Number One found and freed them. It hadn't been solely Number One; it was the hive.
I realized the immense difficulty of losing such a significant part of yourself, only to have the past resurface—Damien, and everything. Seeing him differently made me, as always, blame myself. I hadn't been perfect for him. Mariella's existence made sense; I was genuinely happy he had her, that she supported him where I'd failed.
Damon's voice softened as he said, "You're amazing. I've told you, it's not your fault, nor mine—mostly Damien's. Stop blaming yourself. No woman, not even Mariella, is as perfect as you imagine."
I shrugged. "I have trust issues, as you've noticed. I guess that's just who I am. I'm not sure you can teach me to trust fully. I'm broken, weird, not a beautiful goddess like Mariella is to you."
Damon replied, "Mariella's no goddess; you are. But you're mine—to mold, protect, and teach. I'll show you about trust. I'll try to be someone you can trust, but no promises. You mentioned to Dresden that you have those very special guests waiting. I want to meet them. It's a good outlet for you. You see yourself as a monster, but I see you as a protégé. You lack torture skills, so let me teach you. Sure, there's Dexter and others, but you're mine."
This was unexpected. I was silent, frowning, trying to process it. Damon was better at torturing, but should we? Would it make us monsters? 'Monster' is just a word. No matter what I do, some will see me as one—that's all they'll see, not my good deeds, not even my NSA work. They'll only see my powers and strength, and everything done to me. The Bible says don't hit back, but the Bible isn't always true.
Mariella, who was once part of the God, told me the Bible is fiction—a funny storybook, or perhaps an educational tale, but not a factual account. She said God might have inspired it to teach humanity lessons and rules, but free will ultimately prevails, limiting divine intervention. In short, I see it as a collection of narratives, not literal truth.
My guests were evil, immoral torturers, meaning evil Sarks and a few krychecks, if my people had gotten them snatched for me. Those were guys who'd tormented and killed me and my friends. They deserved every ounce of pain I could inflict.
Damon said softly, "Baby, try not to judge yourself by human standards. We're not human. We have our own way of doing things. Remember, you have the right to react, to torture. Humans have done it for millennia. You're not so different. I'll teach you some techniques. We need to study your dental work, and Wulfe and I are exploring ways to separate your vampire side from your emotions, to lessen your bloodlust. We have plenty of projects planned, so prepare yourself."
As something warmed my heart in Damon's voice, I was once again sabotaging my happiness. I thought, why not? It might backfire, but I was pushing boundaries again. I silently combined my passion and love energies—a potent concoction—and sent it through our bond to Damon. It was the purest form of love that I could come up with, and I had just hit him without forewarning. ambushing him more or less.
He was silent, blinking rapidly, taking deep breaths. Mariella rode beside him, watching curiously. Damon remained quiet. I slowed to Queen, noticing Mariella and Princess edging close to Damon. They were staring at each other. I sighed. I'd sabotaged our bond; I felt him close it tightly. I shouldn't have been surprised.
I rode on as those two stayed close by. My guess was Mariella felt my transmission, and it had gotten her possessive mood, and for Damon, it had been too much for him to handle, despite all that he had said and done. He still could not take my love, and it hurt. My heart was squeezing in my chest, but I kept my expression neutral, even though my pain must have been felt in our hive mind.
"What did you do, baby?" Number Two purred beside me.
"I sabotaged myself again," I said. "I gave him my new energy, a blend of passion and love."
Number Two grunted. "Come on, baby, give me some. Let me show you can handle it. I dare you."
His voice was perfectly challenging, dangerously alluring. I thought, why not? Let Mariella have them. I was pretty sure that this was a blend that even number two could not take, and I thought in my mind, "Hell, why not? Let's burn all of them away."
I let my potent energy flood into him through our true soulmate bond, like a blazing inferno. He absorbed my energy, then gazed deeply into my eyes.
"Amazing," he breathed. "I want this to last. Feeling you love me again... I've missed this so much. Remember telling you about Elena and my life in that New York hotel? I felt this then – your pure love flooding my soul, washing away the pain and weariness. It kept me going. I craved this, and it's what weakened Damien, what he tried to destroy."
He murmured a spell. There was soon an extra seat in front of his saddle, then he gestured to an empty seat. "Come, darling, we haven't much time. Come to me."
He grabbed the queen's reins as I dismounted mid-ride and sat before him. He held me close as he spurred his horse, as well as the Queen, whose rein he held now, onward. We were soon running past Mariella and number one. His horse was powerful too, and this felt somehow so wonderful.
Mariella could see him holding me, but not her; Number One rode alone, still frowning. Mariella's pursed lips and narrowed eyes betrayed her jealousy, but Number Two was fiercely possessive and wouldn't let me go easily. Though loved, it still hurt.
"Why does it hurt?" I asked. "I feel your love, and I know others love me, but why this pain when Number One can't reciprocate? I don't understand."
He grunted, pulling me closer. "It hurts because it's real. Love hurts. When someone can't love you back, or has problems like Number One, it hurts. But remember, darling, you have me, always. I'll promise you something, but not yet. I need to word it perfectly. I have an idea, but it needs refining."
I fell silent as he prepared to make a promise, a terrifying prospect. A million thoughts flooded my mind; I felt immense pressure to be worthy of his love, a love I knew was profound, yet I questioned my own worthiness. His warm chuckle against my back sent shivers down my spine, leaving me uncertain about the future.
"I'm not sure I deserve your promise," I confessed. "I am who I am, and I might fail you and us."
He said nothing, but I felt his mental scrutiny, searching for my latest self-inflicted anxieties, trying to untangle them. I'm adept at knotting myself in doubt, endlessly rehashing things until they become a chaotic mess of uncertainty and self-loathing—a neurotic jumble only I create.
We rode on, and the sea finally appeared, its scent a welcome relief. I remained close to him, nestled against his chest—a comforting refuge. I had no complaints. I suspected Mariella's jealousy stemmed from our lack of sex; we simply rode and shared intimacy, unlike her relationship with Number One, which was almost exclusively about sex and arousal.
She was a lust-driven queen, or perhaps convinced herself she was incapable of anything else; her relationships were all sex and carnality, but it didn't have to be that way. Perhaps this trip would teach her something, maybe even do her some good.
Number Two mused, amused by my train of thought, yet unconvinced Mariella could control herself around Number One. "He's just not good with strong emotions," Number Two thought. "Lust and pleasure are fine, but this connection... this love... he's not ready. He needs to grow up. He's stuck in his old ways, a fucking machine, ironically unlike the other machine versions of himself. They have grown out of a need of fuck all the time. I don't know if it's Mariella, if he's damaged, or just slow, but he's stuck, and Mariella keeps him that way."
I mentally nodded. "You are so goddamn wise," I thought. "It makes sense. Maybe Damien's manipulations... Number Four said you were with him for millennia, and he influenced all of you, long before me. But Number One ignores it, clinging to his abandonment as some kind of punishment for weakness. He seems to think from time to time that Damien did corrupt him and our love, and there is no returning what once was, but then again, should we even live in the past?"
Number Two grunted. "I know. A part of us was left behind. We need to talk to him, clear this up. He wasn't alone, the burden shouldn't be his alone. He's like you, always carrying the heaviest load, never sharing. It takes time, my love, and maybe this trip will help him too."
I smiled bitterly. "Sharing is caring, to a point. Over-sharing becomes a burden. I share moderately to avoid overburdening others. I've carried my problems this far. I can keep going. Besides, not everything is meant to be shared."
Number Two was silent, then, seeing Mariella nearby, said aloud, "My love, the beach is near, a perfect time to swim. You never know what happens in the water... remember when I killed your so-called boyfriends?"
I nodded, smiling. "Yeah, they were good, but I guess you were better."
I was surprised by this, as it was past the time when Bridgette had taken number two out. But then again, if part of them stayed, well, it might be that it was truly him. But I could also sense irritation coming from number one as he noticed our exchange, and he was less happy as others were claiming who did what, but it was all good.
I understood it on some level as I had been a werewolf for a long time, living with Mimosa, and even she was with me, she was not always on, so to speak. It was just a new time for Salvatore's hive, and it might be that this change had been brought on by their separation from the hive.
Mariella leaned closer, asking, "What are you two talking about? Boyfriends?"
I started to explain, but Number Two smirked, sending Mariella a memory—a rather explicit one. Mariella's eyebrows shot up.
Clearing her throat, she said, "Wow, that was hot! Yeah, Mimi, those would be great. Maybe someday we can find something similar again."
I replied, "They'd be crushed if they got wind of this, but sure, I'm in. Warm summer day, picnic basket full of treats, wine, a few nice crawlers, warm rocks, the sea…"
Number Three chimed in from nearby, "Oh, you minx! Prepare to say goodbye to your crawlers if you ever try anything like that."
Then, Number One's dry voice echoed in my mind: "Time for a break, Mimi. Save your seduction for later; this isn't the time for another lust-fueled wave. Want your horse, the Queen, to have triplets?"
I didn't respond. Number Two was amused—I could feel it. It was funny, really. I had fourteen husbands, plus many more mates and…well, fuckbuddies. Our pack had thirty people—six females and twenty-four males. Ten versions of Damon, each unique, were all my husbands.
Jealousy was a daily occurrence. But, men being men (and Mariella being just as jealous), it wasn't just the men who were possessive. I wondered when I'd stopped being jealous. Early on, I learned about Damon's infidelity and Adam's other partners. I just…stopped being jealous, or maybe it never took root. I didn't even care anymore. Would it make a difference?
Damon being with others always hurt, but my lack of possessiveness might have been a problem. Since Damon dislikes jealous women, I wondered if being possessive would've helped. In the worst-case scenario, it would have gotten me some very painful and bloody lessons, as he would teach me.
It's in the past, though; I can only learn from it. That's why I've been reflecting. I'm trying to learn from my mistakes and grow. This is the freest I've felt in my life. This new me has been on these last five or six years, maybe longer.
I had VENOMS—Vampire Emotion Nullification Obsessive Mental Syndrome, or something like that, and a brutal recovery. It was like living in a colorless world, a supernatural depression far worse than typical depression; 30% of survivors commit suicide during recovery. I tried to shut down, kill myself, sort of to become insensate, but couldn't. I can't die for real, but I did try to make the pain go away, but my friend did not let me.
A dear friend helped me immensely, as did Damon and other doctors who've since published articles on the syndrome in medical journals. It's now a major focus of many medical facilities. It's challenging; we don't fully understand depression's causes, but VENOMS is easier to diagnose. It literally depletes dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, and recovery takes time. Lab tests measure these levels for diagnosis.
It takes away all of good emotions, leaving only bad and then they go away too, and as for recovery, it is opposite how those memories went away, meaning all of shit comes first and it is time when suicides happen, as it is just too hard. Treatment is brutal, as the patient's brains must be kept active. Every feeling must keep on as long as it can, so those neural agents are forming, and at some point, something good is felt. But it was awful.
It was a turning point, making me feel and appreciate emotions I'd felt before but never expressed. Since then, I've worn my heart on my sleeve, lacking self-restraint in my reactions.
It's been a steep learning curve, a neurotic mess, and there were times I wanted to retreat, to hide. But I persevered, letting it all out. I'm still a work in progress; it's not easy to be vulnerable, to let others see the real me, the feline side that wants to hide weaknesses, to appear strong even when my feline side is really wuss. She wants me to be strong. Time will tell what I'll become, what this pack will become, but I'm ready.
We reached the perfect beach – pristine, untouched. White sand beckoned. I wanted to swim, but my clothes were too covering and it would be less nice to ride in wet clothes, so I decided to change later.
Dismounting, Number One said, "Okay, we'll spend a few hours here. Relax, no need to camp. Swim, enjoy. Food's in an hour. After this, we head to the jungle – deep jungle – and camp there. Expect rain."
I smiled, going to my saddlebag. I found my bikinis, a wrap dress, silk pants, a loose shirt, and a disposable raincoat. I wasn't going to get wet.
Charles's soft murmur behind me sent shivers down my spine. "Oh, honey, what's this? A plastic raincoat? Please tell me you have more!"
His body pressed against mine, a strong hand gripping my neck. I dug out a few more raincoats—or ponchos. Charles grunted.
Number One, moving like a jungle cat, grabbed one and asked, "More? Enough for everyone?"
He didn't wait for an answer, but rummaged through my saddlebags, clearly impressed by my supplies. His grunts—were they irritation, satisfaction, or both?—continued as he distributed the raincoats, warning everyone to be gentle, unless they wanted to get wet. Those weren't so sturdy, easily ripped.
Mariella then said, "We've only been traveling a short while, but wouldn't it be helpful if each of us showed everyone, say, like, five things we've packed? You, as pack leader, could then assess our supplies."
Damon nodded. "Good idea. Taking stock is important. Some of us are clearly well-prepared, and it won't be fun if we don't know what we have, especially if others aren't willing to share." His voice held distinct dominance as well as irritation as he looked at me.
Whoops! Did my packing bother our pack leader? Too bad. I had so much stuff! Choosing five things wouldn't have been hard; I had plenty. I was annoyed by the revealing part, but...was it good or bad? Time will tell.
Maybe next time we'll all know what to pack. I found shelter, slipped into my bikini, and waded into the water. The other females were slightly irritated, but a few spells later, everyone had bikinis—even Elena and Katherine, thanks to Mimosa. Men catcalled and glared as we swam. Perfect!
I could have gone naked, but as a lust pack, that might have ignited another frenzy. Number One wasn't thrilled with my supplies and wanted to see everything. A wave of dark lust washed over him as he opened our bond. I felt his thoughts—his jealousy that I'd taken Adam and Charles to my tent, not him. He let me feel it all.
Wading in the water, I let go of everything—regrets, problems, the past. In that moment, ocean waves caressed my skin, the breeze carried scents of flowers and the distinctly Australian air, and our holiday felt perfect. My anxieties faded into the background as I savored the present, living one day at a time. It felt superb.
The cool water, the lapping waves, the smell of the ocean and sand, the sunshine, and the feeling of being loved—what more could I ask for? I wasn't concerned with others' opinions or what the future held; I was simply enjoying my life, and it felt amazing. I deserved this, a hundred percent and more. It was time to create wonderful memories, perfect sensations, a perfect life—mine alone.