Having completed the week's meal plan and taken inventory, I went downstairs to create a list of needed meats. I printed a neat list specifying the types, cuts, and quantities required. Though I didn't know the specific meatcutter, I was confident someone would take my list.
I was in a good mood; the day, though it seemed to fly by, was filled with the wonder and awe of babies. Their antics, though often amusing, rarely tested my patience. However, Salvatore and the others, seemed less patient, often sighing at the endless tasks of diaper changes and clothing changes.
Bathing days were particularly hectic, and it was typically myself, the girls, or Lepard and Demon who handled the task, as the men lacked the patience for the wet, soapy chaos of five giggling infants in the bathtub. I hadn't yet obtained the bathing chairs, but the babies usually sat nicely, splashing as we washed them one by one. Afterward, the men were free to take the now-tired babies, dress them in their nightclothes, feed them, and put them to bed.
This arrangement was nearly perfect, though I wished Damon could be there too. He was missing so much, but according to Mariella, he was dealing with some issues and simply wasn't ready to participate.
I entered the kitchen, where Damon, number one, was cooking. He was wearing Mariella's bought shirt, which she had bought, but it was a little short and tight on him. It clearly wasn't comfortable, but he wore it anyway, along with Mariella's favorite jeans, which were black, low-waisted, and somewhat tight. They weren't my style, but he was a grown man, and if he wanted to wear those clothes, fine. I was just his wife. However, he had his issues, and I wasn't going to nag him about his clothes.
"I have my list here for next week's meat order," I said, trying to sound neutral, neither overly timid nor overly cheerful.
He grunted and said, "Put it on the table. I'll look at it. Do you need anything for Monday? I'm on meatcutting duty this weekend, so what's first?"
I replied, "Well, the list has the days, so you can take your pick. I don't mean to nag, but will you come upstairs to see your babies sometimes? They're lovely."
He didn't reply immediately, just grunted as he looked at the list. "Is there food for Mariella too?" he asked.
I furrowed my brow and said, "Yeah, Charles knows his job. Mariella is upstairs on Wednesday and Saturday."
In a cold tone, he said, "Well, unless you have Kobe or Angus reserved, I doubt she eats just turkey or goose."
I blinked, somewhat surprised by this. "Like I said, Charles knows, he makes sure she eats as she should. Why this sudden interest in what she eats? Do you think we don't make her eat as she should?"
He was silent for a moment, then turned and looked at me coldly, without any affection.
He scoffed at my clothes and my open hair. "You can be a nasty cunt when you want to, Mimi. I'm just trying to make sure my wife isn't bullied by you."
I took a breath, shocked. What the hell was he talking about? Mariella was fine with us
. I rolled my eyes, the irritation that often flared up within me flaring again, making my tone sharp. "If you even suggest I'm somehow hurting Mariella or bullying her, I am sorry, Damon, but I'm not. She's more than welcome, and she likes to hang around the babies and do chores like the rest of us."
He looked at me coldly and said, "I know you're sorry."
I was flabbergasted; his attitude really set me off. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You expect me to be sorry, and for what, living my fucking life? Well, husband, you should really try to remember you are still married to me too, not just her."
Damon regarded me coldly and said, "How the fuck could I forget? After all, it was you who put a piece of your heart into mine. And you've taken over the whole pack, I see. Congratulations. You finally got what you always wanted: power. Well, Mimi, I must say this, and I'll try to be clear so your pea-brain can understand."
I sneered, "Oh, please, pea-brain? You're not very inventive with your insults. Let me show you my skills, you damn, old, goat-brained dickweed with an ego the size of which needs its own postal code. You're nothing but a daydream believer with delusions of grandeur and some damn belief you're my heart, you're my soul. You are nothing but a heartbreaker, the guy who sails away whenever he wants, and you are poison to me."
He snarled, "Cute, Mimi, really cute. I'm not in the mood for your little word games, so please, stop listing song titles like they're some kind of hidden message, and I should just melt and love you like crazy, miss you crazy."
His tone was venomous. I was flabbergasted; I had no idea what was wrong with him, but I was starting to reach my breaking point, meaning the nasty part of me would come out and hit him where it hurt. But not directly, nope. I would hit him long and hard and have no regrets.
I kept my tone low, my eyes sharp as I asked, "So you're dismissing me, is that it? You don't want me, only Mariella, like usual?"
He nodded. "That's right, Mimi. Mariella is the one for me, and you have no right to pull some kind of drama out of this, as this is all your fault. Your little idea got us into this mess, so deal with it. You have your lovers with you; you don't need me, not after all you have them all."
I tilted my head. "Are you jealous? Really, that I have other husbands? Oh, this is rich, coming from you, you damn fucking machine."
He countered with an icy declaration that chilled me to the bone: "Jealous, Mimi? Please. That would imply I want you, that I feel *something* for you. You're nothing right now but a bloody nuisance, and I want nothing to do with you. I must wonder what I ever saw in you. You're short, skinny as usual, your face perpetually sneering, your eyes devoid of emotion, and you haven't a lick of sense for how to present yourself. And you think I'm jealous of *you*? Something that looks like it crawled through a gutter and sewage line and hasn't slept in weeks? Even *I* have standards, and Mariella fulfills them all. She is mine, and mine alone. You're nothing but a glorified whore, ordering your harem around and thinking the universe revolves around you."
I was silent, furious. I took a breath, calming my mind to prevent an explosion.
He looked at me coldly and continued, "I'm not saying never, Mimi. Who knows, I might be in the mood someday, but not now. Leave the list. I'll get those meats, and God help you if Mariella has some kind of problem with her nutrition; I know you're responsible for it. I'm not doing this out of spite; it's just how I feel. I must be honest with myself. If I ever have any hope of growth, Mariella makes me want to be better, to try to be more for her and for our babies, our perfect three princesses. It's just a damn shame you have to rob every other husband from Mariella and from her babies to get one over us. You are truly greedy, selfish, and immature, Mimi. And as for your brats, keep them the fuck away from our princesses. I don't want to see them, hear from them, or care for them. You shall not come anywhere near our girls, or else I swear, that shed session way back then, with the songs, I will do it again, longer, and this time there will be no erasure. See how you cope with your robbed men then, when you're scared of them all the time."
"Please remove as much gristle from the bear meat as possible and ensure it's fresh," I stated calmly. "There's no need for the meat to oxidize. If you're feeling unmotivated, or would rather be with someone you love, please inform the pack leader. He can assign a new meat processor so the rest of the pack can eat. You don't need to feel responsible for me or my babies; I can handle them. Regarding Mariella, you seem to have a short memory, considering who's been robbing men in this pack. I'm not sorry. Actually, I pity you. For someone so old and broken, you've spent your life caring for other men's babies and trying to please the pack's nymphomaniac. I now understand you're not actually number one, so to speak, but rather what was left after all the good parts were taken away. As for your threat, you damn idiot, you're forgetting one little thing: Wulfe. I will tell him about this, and I won't hold him back. If he feels this pack needs a permanent pet, then so be it, but you will never threaten me again."
I didn't wait to hear his snide remarks. I walked away, maintaining a calm and collected posture, while my rage simmered. If Wulfe, Number Two, Five, and Ten weren't simultaneously controlling my rage, I would have made a number out of him. But my guys were literally clamping down on my mind, forcing me to walk back.
They didn't know the details, but this new potion made them feel my distress, and it seemed to amplify my rage. So, they acted, and I must admit, it was barely enough. I let them pull me back, but a dark part of me knew that if I had chosen, I could have easily broken free from their grip and done whatever my rage dictated. I swore to myself not to let them know everything. There was no need for the rest of the pack to see just how crushed my soul was once more, or how my wings, metaphorically, burned to the ground.
His words burned in my mind, and his scent offended me. Both my alphaside and my vampire side were enraged. Our so-called alpha male had just discarded us like we were nothing, and
I thought, "Fine, so be it."
It was his choice, as he so elegantly put it, and he would have to live with it. This time, there would be no magical kiss to win me back. Why, in hell's name, would I even take him back? I had others. He wanted Mariella, not me or my children, so be it. Fuck him and his hairy balls! I hoped his asshole would swell up and his nose would be crooked.
My mind raced, conjuring insults as my initial reaction was pure rage. It kept the pain at bay, but I knew, quite soon, I would have to face the pain, conquer it, and come out the other side, whatever was left of me. But I swore to myself that he would not be a martyr; I would make sure he was just one pack member, and he would not twist me into the bad guy. And Mariella? Oh yeah, she would be my ultimate weapon against Damon.
Plans, and many others, began to form in my mind, nasty ones. He had threatened me, insulted me and my babies. Fuck with him! I let my husbands, my true ones, pull me back. As soon as we were in our wing, Adam closed and locked the door, ensuring I wouldn't dash out and unleash my wrath.
Robotically, I said, "Please care for the kids. I need time to get my mind sorted. No interference yet; I am way too volatile."
Then, without noticing anything, I walked into a bedroom, sat on the bed, and let the pain come. It was now time to feel.
My bedroom's theme eluded me; my mind struggled to process details as I succumbed to the pain. Once again, it was over, and I was a fool. I always did this to myself; when would I ever learn? Never love him, never hope he'd be with me, never assume he was done hurting me.
And the worst part was, I had no idea what fueled this behavior. Was it something I said or did? Was it the tick of things, or something older and deeper? His desire to be "better"...better at spending time between Mariella's legs. I wondered what would come of all this, what would be left of me.
I felt hollow, yet I had clamped the hive right down, a little show to prove I was the true hive queen with ultimate power, even though I couldn't destroy it. I was the best of us at controlling it, and what had it done to me? Nothing much, perhaps just making me lose number one. Or had he ever even been with me? Had it all been a lie?