As Mimi Salvatore, the alpha female of our pack and, in my mind, the de facto leader, I had my own plans. I was in my craft room. Few people had talked with me in the days since I realized I didn't trust Damon, especially since they'd stopped their fuckfest just yesterday. I was perfectly content with this arrangement.
The girls, as well as Leopard and Demon, were occupied with toddler duty. I was handling a mix of tasks: laundry, some sorting, and preparing snacks. We had recently divided roles for meal preparation; one person would make the main meals, and another would handle snacks for both toddlers and adults, which included chopping fruits, meats, and vegetables into ready-made bowls. This way, anyone could grab a quick snack when needed, and it didn't take long to prepare. I wasn't sure how to proceed with the day.
I'd also set aside time for flower work. The Salvatores had sent their offer to a couple, and they had accepted it. It would be a huge undertaking, but Charles and Adam were going to handle most of the flower ordering, so I didn't have to worry about that. I did, however, have smaller orders lined up that I planned to address at some point.
Perhaps, I thought, I could even spend a day or two in my shop, as it was still mine until next year, and I wanted to work. Sure, I was pregnant again, but this was only the beginning. I wasn't as far along as Mariella was.
Since I had no symptoms, well, besides my morning sickness, low libido, impossible temper, sore body, and achy breasts, all of this meant my fuse was incredibly short. I might snap at Charles for no real reason, so I needed a distraction, something enjoyable.
I sat in my very comfy chair, working on beadwork. This meant using very small beads and thin thread to create little cups or mandalas, whatever I was in the mood for. It required focus, as not all the beads were exactly the same size, so I needed to adjust the tension of the thread, preventing my work from warping too much or creating tension in the wrong places, which would cause it to twist the wrong way. As my fingers and hands worked, my mind reeled.
I was struggling to find reasons to trust Damon, searching for a way to move forward, but it wasn't a quick or easy fix. The facts were clear: I needed to see him earn my trust through actions, not just words. Knowing him, losing my trust would be a significant blow, potentially pushing him away. Yet, I couldn't help myself; I had to be honest and eventually confront him.
This was a conversation I dreaded, especially considering my circumstances: I was his wife, pregnant, and about to tell him I'd lost faith in him as a doctor and a husband. There was no easy solution, and deep down, I knew I was right. He had made too many mistakes, and I couldn't simply overlook them.
Lost in my thoughts, time seemed to blur. To my surprise, the door opened, and Damon, Number One, walked in, alone.
He looked at me, sat down, and said softly, "I think we need to talk, baby. I know talking is just talking, but let's work through this and see where we stand."
His expression was somber, his brows slightly furrowed, his mouth a firm line, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Somehow, he knew, or at least suspected something, and it didn't make this any easier. My heart felt torn. I hated doing this to him, but if I didn't speak up, I'd create a bigger mess.
Maybe, just maybe, he would understand. However, I wasn't so sure. I tried to calm myself, taking deep breaths and controlling my expressions, careful not to appear robotic. It was a balancing act, after all.
I placed my work on the table and looked at Damon. "This might sound harsh," I began, "but I can't lie. I could, but it wouldn't help. This isn't one of those situations where my usual 'fake it till you make it' approach works. I'm just going to say it out loud: I'm a rotten wife. I know that. A rotten partner and mate. I feel like I'm letting you down, but my kids come first. What happened...should never have happened. And it was all your fault. Truly." I paused, taking a breath.
Damon's expression deepened. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it, but there was a palpable sense of dread in his gaze as he awaited my judgment, like a man on death row. I rubbed my eyes, ran my hands through my hair, and sighed wearily.
Looking into his ice-cold eyes, my voice sharpened into an unforgiving tone: "I have lost my trust in you, utterly. As a partner, and more importantly, as a doctor and protector. You literally caused my death, as well as my son's. Your dismissive attitude put them on ventilators and gave me a fresh set of nightmares. Yeah, Wulfe keeps me safe so I can sleep if I'm in the mood, but the memories just keep rolling in my mind. I can hear Seraphina's whimpers in my ears, the tube in her throat, her being sick and scared. And all I could do, as sick as a dog myself, was try to touch her, lie to her face that everything would be okay, while listening to the doctors discussing in the hallways when they would have to tell me to brace for the worst. All because of you."
Damon nodded, his head bowed. He slumped slightly, looking at the floor before taking a deep breath and lifting his head to meet my gaze. "You are absolutely right, baby. It was all my fault. And I don't deserve your trust, not yet. I will try to earn it. But I must say, thank you, truly. You are the first person who has ever said it to my face, just how badly I've messed up. And despite how hard it is to handle, I needed to hear that. I needed you to tell me I'm utter shit, that I've made a huge mess."
He offered a tired smile, took another deep breath, and continued, seemingly worn out. "It helps, as weird as it is. I've now hit rock bottom, and I know what I need to do. I need to do better. I need to not let that ever happen again. But I need to first get my mind under control, and I need to keep being pack leader, part-time at least. And, fuck, I need to stop trying to fuck my problems away, as it just makes things so much worse."
Nodding, I spoke, my voice tense, my body language betraying both my irritation and the conflicting emotions within me.
"I can't control how I feel," I stated honestly, "Because when I try to force myself to accept something my instincts reject, it only creates more problems. I haven't been a good wife here, and I should be able to move on, to start fresh. But I can't. I'm not sure what I need, how I need it, and frankly, I don't even know what I'll be doing next week. I'm in this limbo. I suppose this is a kind of healing process, now that I've permitted myself to feel everything that's happened. I've grown, learned something, because I can't just blame myself. You are one of the biggest reasons this happened, because you decided to have an identity crisis, to choose Mariella over me, to forget you had actual children, biological ones with me. Instead of being their father, witnessing their milestones, you worshipped Mariella and her kids, none of whom are biologically yours. Sure, it might not matter in the big picture, but for me, it was the ultimate betrayal, a clear message of how low me and our kids ranked in your priorities."
My voice, unwavering, delivered blow after blow, nearly destroying our relationship. I didn't do this out of malice, but because I had to. In order to move on, I needed to react, to accept my feelings, to face what the hell had happened. It wasn't as simple as smiling and moving on, trying to forget it ever took place. Not with my memory.
"I messed up, badly," Damon admitted, his voice weary but with a hint of acceptance. "I don't know how long it'll take to earn your trust back, but I promise I'll try. I can't predict the future, especially with this pack's volatility. Making promises now could backfire. We'll take it one day at a time, and hopefully, we'll get there eventually. In the meantime, you'll have to tolerate me. I'm going to be a father to our children, and nothing you say will change that. Just accept it. Maybe I can regain your trust, but I won't pressure you. However, I'm still your husband, your protector, and a partial pack leader. If you think you can keep me away, it won't happen. I'm staying put. If I see you doing something reckless or overworking yourself, I'll say something. You won't get space and time alone, not without me."
His voice held a steely dominance, a surprising shift. But then again, it might not last. All Mariella had to do was whine, and this 'vuss' would revert to worshipping her. I wasn't expecting much, despite his current dominance, his display of alpha power, a challenge, almost testing if I would fight back. I wasn't sure if I was in the mood to show him my strength. He met my gaze, a steely glint in his eyes, flaring his alpha and vampire power, showing he wouldn't be easily pushed around.
Time would tell, but I wasn't in the mood to turn this into a power struggle. Damon was fickle and unpredictable, and Mariella still held sway. If she whimpered, he wouldn't hesitate to rush to her. It was just a fact of our messy life; I was never Damon's top priority. Though, among the ten Damon Salvatores, the other nine at least saw me as a priority, more or less. I was cared for.
Damon stood and walked away, his gaze absentminded. I guessed someone was talking to him telepathically, and it didn't take much guesswork to figure out who. It was most likely Mariella, and she was, once again, being a clingy, jealous cow, needing Damon by her side. Better for me; I still had things to do and places to be. I had so many ideas about what I was aiming for, what little chores I was planning next.
Despite the fact that the discussion had been a hard one, perhaps even one of our most honest, in its brutality, at least it was honest. I sat for ten minutes, then got up and walked to the laundry room to start a load. However, considering I had fourteen husbands, a soulmate, four grown daughters, and toddlers, there were plenty of people looking after me.
I had just gotten the kids' clothes in the machines, and was about to load a few machines full of bedding when a soft, dominant voice behind me said, as a strong arm grabbed my waist, pulling me tightly against a hot, hard male body, "Baby, you shouldn't do too much. We're here and we can do laundry. Go on, go sit down. After all, you are pregnant."
Number Nine's voice was steely, and I rolled my eyes. I wasn't even through my first trimester, and I'd be crazy if this continued. When would my dear husbands learn that pregnancy wasn't a disability? He didn't give me another choice, teleporting me back to the upper floor.
I stood in the middle of the corridor, cussing lowly under my breath, "Fucking harebrained idiot, I mean, come the fuck on, I am pregnant, not an invalid. What the fucking ball-hair obsession those damn over-egoistical males have that I am utterly incapable of doing laundry?"
My voice was low, irritated, and my irritation flared even more when Wulfe's calm voice said behind me, "My unicorn, what's the matter? I might have told them about your plan to do laundry, even though it isn't officially laundry day. I don't want you to overwork yourself."
I turned to him, my eyes squinting. I was hormonal and had no filter. "Oh, thank you. I'm just pregnant, not an invalid. I can still do laundry; there's no need to wrap me in cotton wool. After all, my condition will take quite some time. Next time, ask before you act." I walked away, not waiting for his answer.
Wulfe was my soulmate. Our bond was so damn deep, and his mind was partially merged in mine, protecting me, sheltering me, but still, I was too fucked up to really control my irritation despite how good their intentions had been originally.
My determined steps led me to my flower room, where I clutched my printed orders. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to tamp down my irritation. *Fuck*, I was pissed. I hoped this could be a kind of zen thing, that it would calm me the *fuck* down. Damn males, always messing with my plans, always knowing better. This was my fucking body, my decisions.
I fumed inwardly, not caring how many of our pack heard my fuming through our unique hive mind, the hive created during our vampire wedding—mostly by me. My ego flared. I was freaking good at what I did, and I wasn't going to let men tell me otherwise.
After all, I was pretty sure I was the strongest being, or at least the most resilient, in the universe, or on Earth at least. I was egotripping in my mind as I focused on making my arrangements, because I was so damn good at this.
Of course, my egotripping and fuming were clearly heard throughout the hive, and many of my husbands were actually quite amused by me, though they kept it hidden. They thought my hormonal, fucked-up state of mind was a refreshing change from my normally reserved and controlled demeanor. It was fun for them to see the real me again, not the facade I presented to others.
I had no idea what the future held for us. Would I regain my trust in "number one"? Could he change? Would I become a handful again, as I had been during my pregnancy? Would my pregnancy, or Mariella's, be without complications? If she faced another medical crisis, it might trigger a new set of problems for our pack. As the toddlers grew, the terrible twos were approaching: eight temperamental toddlers, plus our new broods.
Life would be busy and, no doubt, very interesting. Of course, all of this would, or might, teach us some valuable lessons—or perhaps not. Only time would tell. The future, as uncertain as it was, would be ours once more, and ours alone. It would be what we made of it, nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes, the choices we make are the only higher purpose our lives have.