Exhausted, I attempted to corral my five toddlers. Time had certainly passed; they had found their feet, and, oh my god, they were everywhere. I sighed inwardly. Damon, still a "dickweed," hadn't changed, and things in that regard remained stagnant. Mariella was frustrated with her temperamental trio and Damon, who was a lazy bastard in the midst of a goddamn identity crisis, was no help.
The babies had just turned one, and it was a relentlessly busy time. They were always walking, grabbing, laughing, and talking, though not with many words. Regardless, it was April 15th. Our plan to thwart Dickweed's manipulation had been brilliant. They had been on their road trip during December and January, the coldest months, which saved us trouble since we didn't have to keep the entire house warm. We could keep our wing cozy while the other parts remained colder.
Then there were our romantic date nights. Almost every night, I was whisked away to the theater, dinner, movies, or even concerts by some Salvatore, Adam, Charles, or other boys. Of course, as Dickweed wanted to sabotage it, he would butt in, making it a double date with Mariella and him on a few occasions.
But hey, let's just say that while we were in the movies—me and number four—and those two, I had no idea what the movie was about.
My skilled husband used his magic and certain energies to entertain me in the naughtiest possible way, meaning my pussy was drooling, my nipples were erect, and I was barely holding on. I was mentally planning at least five different positions for us to fuck, and no one would notice anything. But, being naughty, I sent this to Mariella, who told number one. His expression soured, and he just wanted to watch the movie; he wasn't in a romantic mood.
Watching my toddlers, I couldn't help but smile. They were all their own little people, and I loved them dearly. However, Damon's absence and scorn still stung, no matter how often I called him a "dickweed" in my mind or how many other children I had. It was what it was.
Sadie, with her red hair like mine, shared many of my expressions. It was funny, though, because she had Damon's mouth and eyes, which were slightly darker, like a leopard's. She was very much a mini-me, always on the go and demanding. She inherited her father's temperament, his impulsiveness, and his lack of patience. I had put her red hair in ponytails that morning, but by 1 PM, they were long gone. She just couldn't leave them alone.
Sabrina and Seraphina, my trouble-making duo, had black hair and many of Damon's facial features, combined with my dark eyes. Their ponytails were still intact, and they were real little ladies, always in dresses, giggling, and getting into mischief.
As for the boys, they were blonde with Damon's arctic eyes, my eyebrows, and my jawline, but Damon's facial shape. Their hair was always mussed. Dash was fast; he would run and fall, but never cry, instead getting up and continuing to run. Darien was still my cuddlebug; his favorite thing was to creep right behind me, and if I didn't pay attention, I'd almost trip over him.
The boys wore dark blue and dark green shirts and pants, while the twins had their frilly dresses and Sadie wore a yellow shirt, skirt, and pantyhose. Dressing them was an effort. Sometimes they weren't in the mood to cooperate, and it felt like trying to stuff an octopus into a string bag, with them screaming, getting tense, and wriggling and twisting as much as possible. And potty training... oh my god, my days were truly full.
As I was coaxing Sadie away from the childproof gate, Adam and Number Two and Four walked in.
"Honey, behind you, I think the twins are up to something," Number Four said softly.
I rolled my eyes, striving for patience, and lured Sadie to play with an interactive book. Turning carefully, I saw Darien right behind me, smiling widely, his little teeth on display. I smiled back, picked him up, and carried him to the toy pile. He immediately reached for a set of rings, eager to stack and study them.
Adam, meanwhile, was preventing the twins from chewing on the floorboards; they, too, loved using their mouths on everything. The babies had been fed an hour ago, so they were full of energy, and this could take a while.
I wasn't paying much attention when Sadie suddenly looked behind me and said, "Dada!"
Turning around, I saw Number One standing nearby, holding a box of cut meat pieces. His expression was a mix of regret and wonder until he met my gaze, at which point it hardened.
I went to Sadie, who wanted to go to "Dada," as she and the others saw nearly all the Salvatores and other men, as such.
"No, honey, that is not Dada; that is Damon. Come on now, go play with your book, that's my girl," I said.
Charles nodded to Number One and said, "Bring them here, and thank you."
He simply nodded back and carried the heavy box, about 40 kilos of vacuum-packed, labeled, and weighed meat pieces, into the kitchen. Charles, who was on cooking duty today, could then put the extra in the freezer and the rest in the fridge before putting them in the oven.
I was preoccupied and didn't have time for romantic notions of Damon finally realizing his mistakes and what he'd missed. While I had countless videos of babies and their milestones, nothing compared to the real-life experience. It was mid-April, and the twins were just over a year old, walking, exploring, and seemingly everywhere at once.
When naptime arrived, we all sighed with relief, knowing it would only last a few hours before the cycle began again. They needed constant supervision—a lot of it. Because someone was at the flower shop at least three times a week, and I'd been there a few days myself, and Adam and the Salvatores were checking on our farm, which was up and running, and we could soon start selling meat, not all of us were available all the time.
Consequently, I had less time for chores like folding laundry, but I still had to deliver the clean clothes to the living room and fold them while keeping an eye on the children. I knew number one had also taken on extra work, maintaining his private practice, as it was expensive to stay home after Mariella's benefits decreased after nine months, while she was still at home.
However, thanks to Charles's income, as well as him managing my benefits, I was financially secure, and there were always people around the house. The snakes had also grown. We'd sold quite a few, thanks to their exotic combinations, and demand was high, but Charles was still considering it.
We still had our adult retics and a few youngsters—a lot of snakes, and some big ones, but pretty. Our ball pythons were unique. I'm unsure if our magic had changed them, but even though people say snakes don't bond with you, one almost-black mother snake, in a larger enclosure, always came to me whenever I entered the room, trying to get out. When I did, she'd curl around my neck, smelling my pheromones and rubbing against them.
One of our large reticulated pythons shared Mariella's affection, and she, in turn, reveled in the attention from such a massive snake. Our pack life was peculiar, both wonderful and nearly perfect, yet it lacked a certain spark. Damon, the "dickweed," remained stubbornly pigheaded.
We had expanded our kitchen and also discovered our cheese cellar. Since we possessed numerous cheese and wine cellars scattered across various castles and houses in the normal world, Elena and Katherine had connected my Moldovan cellar—a place I rarely visited—and moved the cheeses there. They did this so the cheeses would remain after the linkage, which had been severed a little over a year prior, when all of this began. I stumbled upon it by chance, and it was a source of inspiration.
I hadn't yet mentioned it to Mariella, who was preoccupied with "Number One" and the lively trio; since Number One handled most of their cooking, she had less time.
"My unicorn, I have an idea, of sorts, but let's see if we can bring it to fruition," Wulfe said to me.
He had come in and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. As the oldest among us, a vampire wizard over 2,500 years old, he often appeared as a teenager, but he was also well-suited and eager for bedtime activities. He was my other half, my spiritual counterpart, whereas Mariella was Number One's, and to complicate matters further, Number One was my best biological match, not a sibling but a mate.
Of course, the other Salvatores, who had been exceptionally close to me and familiar with my pheromones after living with me, had also grown closer. I continued my studies on various subjects whenever I could find the time, like pheromones.
When I revealed more, Numbers Two, Four, Nine, and Ten showed a great interest in the chemical composition of pheromones, and I had to demonstrate how I attempted to create new ones, which meant literally emitting the scent of a particular feeling, emotion, or sensation. This was made more difficult by the fact that I had a million things on my mind in this hectic household.
"What is your idea, my love?" I asked Wulfe.
He nibbled at the right side of my neck, near my pheromone glands. I focused and released a combination of five pheromones. One expressed my true, pure love for him; another, my happiness; a third, my relaxation; and a fourth, my curiosity.
As an alpha female, the fifth was a subtle show of dominance, which I hadn't taught him to recognize. He might not even notice it. All he would perceive was my love, contentment, and curiosity.
"Well," he said, "since we have so many exotic meats, how about we have a weekly tasting menu? I know we already have exotic meat in each meal, but on those days, we could offer a wider array, and the babies and girls could try things too."
It was an interesting idea, one I hadn't considered. "Well," I replied, "let me think about it. We have the protectors, and then there's our rotation. We could aim for dinner, weekends, or a day when the pack is here. Some of them are downstairs, and they would miss out."
He grunted, still holding me. I mulled over the idea. It had its perks, but then there were my protectors. Oh my god, had they found their balls! I needed to sleep for eight hours at least three nights a week, but I was failing. The next day, I had to nap. It wasn't planned, it just happened. And my meals... even though we tried to eat the same as the kids, I had to eat three extra, large meals in between. The men were cooking too.
Wulfe moved to the kitchen, either for dessert duty or because he wanted to make dessert. He left me alone with the five little gremlins. I watched them, reflecting on how much the Salvatores had become part of my everyday life. Despite the long road trip, this was a new record for us to be together in this kind of situation.
I had husbands who were eager to learn. I was planning to do some wire wrapping in the evening, after the children were bathed and put to bed. As I walked to my wire wrapping room after a night snack, I had company. Two and four had the most dexterous fingers, while six and eight were the most creative. Repetition was key.
I also had a stone crafting room, and sometimes I noticed that number one had done some work in there, not too badly. I had put my rock tumblers on a week ago, and I was planning on checking on them as they were a few days overdue and almost in the final phase. When I went to my stone room, my tumblers had been emptied, and most of my stones were gone, either missing or in his box.
Each of us had a box for our projects, such as rings or pendants. Mine was almost always empty, as my husbands would take whatever I was planning and finish it. Some of our pieces we would sell in our online shop, too, but I had little involvement and was planning on talking about it to Mariella someday. She rarely came upstairs, but when she did, she might have ideas for my plan.
I was planning on opening a new shop, manned by her and the girls, a witch shop where crystals and anything else she wanted to offer would be available. I knew there were many wiccans around, so they might be potential customers. As far as I could tell, there was no shop like that nearby.
However, I wanted to listen to Mariella's ideas first and see if she would have enough items to sell, or if it would just be a crystal shop. That would work too, but a magic shop had a nice ring to it, and who knows, maybe even Dickweed would want to be a part of it. Maybe cows could fly too.
But, right now, I was too busy with these five little ones, as they were full of energy and had no restraints. Everything was new and exciting, and I just didn't have any idea how many dangerous or harmful places there were for babies.
"It seems you too have your hands full, baby," a soft voice said from the doorway.
I turned to see Number One still standing there, watching us. Now, the twins had devised a perfect plan to rip the curtains off the window.
Damon couldn't help but smirk, saying, "Behind you, those two have your decorative drive."
I got up and went to the girls. "Nope, not that. Come on, you two, see, here we have a nice train, wroom wroom."
I made a motor sound, trying to get them to pay attention to the toys.
Damon said, "I am sorry. I have been a dickweed, and I'm not... I'm starting to get this individuality thing, and it takes time. Sorry about the whole damn mess. I know I let you down, and I failed my own babies. I would like to take their paternity back. I hope you are not going to try to block me. I need to talk to Charles about this."
I rolled my eyes. I didn't notice again as Darien had crept behind me. I took a step back, bumping into him, and tried not to make him fall over. I tried to regain my balance, but I fell to my knees, startling Sadie as a sharp "Fucking hell" erupted from my mouth.
Damon smirked, unable to contain himself as I scrambled to soothe Sadie.
"Shh, Mommy just fell, it's okay, no need to cry..." I picked her up and rocked her, which drew the attention of other toddlers.
Jealous, like their father, they began trying to walk to me, eager to be held. Numbers two and four appeared and came to help, while I saw number one walking away. Well, now wasn't the time to listen to his excuses about reconnecting. Let him be a father if he chose, but knowing him, it was still just talk, not action. I wasn't sure how long it would take him to stop yapping and face the consequences of his actions.
As for his apology... blah. He talked, but as a living lie detector, I could tell if someone was being insincere. He had been polite, but there was no real regret for hurting me. That much I could tell, and it hurt me more, though I hid it deep inside.
It was difficult, but I had a few hidey-holes left. Not many, given the eager telepaths living with me and Wulfe's guidance on managing my neurosis. My mind was constantly cleaned and watched over, so I had no chance to let my neurosis fully return. I was loved and cared for; what more could I hope for?