After waking up five days later, I, Mimi Salvatore, alphafemale, and smug one, was in the shower, scrubbing myself clean. I figured I had gotten something nasty in my system, as Damon was sleeping next to me, looking utterly exhausted. I tasted his blood, and he lacked a bit of everything, meaning he had used a lot to cure or help me.
But that was fine; I didn't regret it. I was too hormonal for that. Instead, I informed numbers four and five about his condition, and they promised to take him to the medbay for nutrient IVs and blood tests.
I wasn't in the mood for Mariella's company; my hormones were fluctuating, making me, once again, feel nasty. I was crafting a plan to get one project done—nothing too harmful, but also too wonderful to share. Therefore, I needed to distract my husbands and keep Mariella busy.
I was skilled at arranging this, not manipulating, as manipulation sounds so nasty. I was just making sure I enjoyed my life and had a good time despite my growing bump, my growing breasts, my crazy mind, and all the pregnancy symptoms. I had no case of my syndrome, no obsessive self-hate, no tangles in my mind; I just needed my own time and to work on my project in peace.
My project was simple: a movie marathon with treats in a particular room. There, I had a special big bed (not sanctified), a massaging mattress, a big-screen TV, and a nice fridge that I would fill with treats. Then, I would take it easy, finding my own peace and relaxing.
As for the toddlers, they were on a trip with Adam, the boys, Salvatore's numbers eight, nine, and ten, and the girls. It was a little road trip to give the protectors, meaning Charles and number one, time to do their job with us: keep their teeth in our throats and heal us. I wasn't sure if Mariella was free yet, but I wasn't in the mood to do chores. Since my flower shop was also taken care of, there was no need for me to go there yet.
It was the beginning of October, nearing my 15th week, which meant Christmas was approaching. Knowing Damon, he was already considering having me take my maternity leave early, especially since my last pregnancy had only lasted 30 weeks. This felt both scary and worrisome since being pregnant was still new to me, and my hormones were all over the place.
I started eating whatever I wanted, secretly, and in peace. This, however, made my husband extremely worried and anxious. Due to the pregnancy, my caloric demands, as well as my need for minerals and vitamins, were astronomical. Their protective instincts were on high alert whenever they detected my pheromones.
I was walking into the kitchen when Mariella telepathically asked, "What are you planning? I'm washing myself; that damn Corndick wanted me to smell like sweaty male. I'm just so pissed off."
I replied, "Been there, done that. I'm off to make some food, treats, and load up my fridge, then have a movie marathon. I need my own peace." I added cattily, "Damon was sleeping next to me, utterly spent, and he had a long list of deficiencies in his blood, so I informed a few of the Salvatores about the state of our pack leader, and he is currently in the medbay getting treatment."
Mariella replied, "Oh my fucking god, fine. I'll tell them to check on Charles, too. After all, we're pregnant and need everything we can get. We can't afford to make substances. Oh, perfect! Please, can I join you in the movie marathon and enjoy the treats? It seems you have a nest."
I retorted, "Yep, I have a nest, and fine. I was planning on Marvel movies, Jurassic Parks, etc. Not sure if you want to watch them."
Mariella's reply was surprising. "You know, I haven't actually watched them that much. I know you watch them, Damon has watched them, Wulfe watches them, but me? I'm ready. For me, they are new. And please make us treats. I'm on my way to the kitchen; teach me, and please make your lemon cake; it is such a treat."
I walked into the kitchen and gathered my ingredients. I had a lot of meat prepared, and I instructed Mariella to empty the smoking cabinets. There were treats for us. Mariella entered the kitchen with her hair down, wearing only a maternity dress and slippers, without any makeup. Her belly was already quite large, and she waddled.
I retrieved a specific type of bread from the freezer, cut off the crusts, laid the slices in a large bowl, and flattened them slightly. I then moistened them with our broth. Next, I took the meats Mariella was bringing, along with a few others.
I was assembling a mixture of smoked horse, smoked lamb, smoked deer, cooked ham, fried Wagyu, and Kobe beef. I put these into a blender, creating a meat paste. I added some cream, cream cheese, red onions, salt, cooked eggs, and sour cream. Voila, my mixture for the sandwich cake was ready.
Mariella looked at it and asked, "What is this? A novelty? I know Damon would probably strangle you on your panties for eating this, but it looks yummy."
I smiled and replied, "It is. This is a remnant from the old times when I was human. We sometimes made these for celebrations, but my sister and I made them for our meals. She loved cucumbers and other things, but I couldn't tolerate them. I had gallstones back then, but some of the stuff was repulsive to me. I was picky, but my sister was an even pickier eater."
Mariella paused, then asked, "Damon has never mentioned you had a sister. Does he know?"
I nodded and said, "Once, I went to Finland. I was feeling down and wanted to feel something, so I was in Russia doing gigs and had a bit of free time. I decided to visit our grave—well, my old life, my ashes, or what was thought to be my ashes, were buried in the same grave as my grandmother, my mother, and my sister. Anyway, I bought a few bouquets, one for my mom and one for my sister, drove to a city called Lappeenranta, and went to the cemetery. As I was walking to the grave, Damon was there. He had anticipated my idea and accompanied me. We saw the grave, and then I visited my aunt's old place. Afterward, we returned to Russia. I experienced some road rage, and he velveted me because he couldn't handle it. He did warn me, but I did not listen. I showed him my Moscow house, but he left; he didn't stay, even though he had initially said he had time."
My voice was a bit monotone as I continued to assemble our treat, old memories from my human life resurfacing. It felt strange; a part of that person still remained, though she was hardly a killer, leader, mother, or sex beast.
Mariella surprised me, saying, "Next time, I want to be with you. I want to see the grave. I know you snatched your little things, including that house, and keep them under aliases, even from Wulfe. But someday, we will visit them. I want, no, I *need* to see. There's something there for me, and I'm not sure what, but maybe it's energy, maybe it's something."
I replied, "Well, then you'll see the grave of the big white cat. He's buried in the backyard there, along with Chaoscat and a few other pets."
Mariella's eyes flashed as she responded, "That's it. There will be certain plants, herbs for me. It's meant to be. I'm not sure when, but now you know I need to visit those places. There's a higher purpose for them as well."
I was now smearing the remaining filling on top of my sandwich cake and handed Mariella a plate full of thinly sliced rabbit.
"Make roses out of them," I instructed. "Let's make our treat pretty, then chop some chives and chervil. I'll take a few fronds of dill and fennel; it gives this an edge."
She smiled and worked. Once I had used the rest of the filling, I put the bowl into the dishwasher and grabbed my herbs, their aroma filling the air. Next, I took a bag of iced shrimp and put it in a bowl as well.
Mariella exclaimed, "Oh my god, I want those! Take a lot of them!"
I nodded and said, "We can use them as decoration, but I love it when the saltwater melts in my mouth." She smirked, licking her lips as if she could already taste those shrimp in her mouth.
I chose a few bottles of dry white wine for us, and I let Mariella select the cheeses. Meanwhile, I took a bit more—my very strong blood capsules—and some seafood and sauces. We didn't want to eat sensibly, and we definitely didn't want any males around.
Once again, my alpha power flared, igniting Mariella's beta power. This activated her pack instinct, meaning I was her alpha, not Damon. My usual stance, "DO NOT OBEY DAMON," was also influencing her. Since we were pregnant, our hormones made us even more difficult to manage, and it would take considerable effort for any male to control us, assuming they were even strong enough to try.
Oh, it was so perfect. Forty-five minutes later, we were lounging on my bed with a massage running. It was perfect. Our treats were divine. This was life!
We were watching *Jurassic Park 1* when my brows furrowed in irritation as the door opened. Damon, Charles, and the rest of the pack walked in. Damon's sharp gaze immediately focused on my perfect sandwich cake, and Mariella rolled her eyes. Number two grunted. She took a large spoonful—no forks, only spoons—and ate her piece, savoring it with gusto.
"I'm trying to be a husband here, not your savior all the time," Charles said to Mariella, his voice laced with frustration.
Mariella rolled her eyes and retorted, "Chill out, let me have a life. No need to be so strict."
However, Damon approached, took the plate from Mariella, and placed it on the table.
His voice was calm, explanatory. "Darling, your gut processes carbs these days only marginally better than Mimi. Since you have a functioning pancreas, Mimi's nut flour invention is actually hindering your cellular turnover. Your six fetuses have overtaken your nutritional distribution, meaning they take the best bits first and leave the rest for you. Consequently, there's stuff in your liver that shouldn't be there. Your pancreas is screaming as it's working at about 600% speed, and your gut is quite full."
He pressed on Mariella's abdomen, causing her to wince.
Damon, however, was merciless. "You are currently feeding your babies and overloading your system with glucose, dextrose, and other sugars, making your tissues suffer, as well as your magic stutter. Your grip on your bloodlust will fail, making you try to get more blood, which worsens your gestational diabetes. Then, I'll have to hand you over to Wulfe's care, meaning he'll limit your blood intake and control your vampire side."
Mariella pursed her lips and conceded, "Fine, I won't eat. I do, however, want to continue our movie marathon."
Number Two interjected, "Not in this bed. Those vibrations aren't good for you; they make your blood clot, and the last thing you need is an embolism. You too, baby—no more massaging beds. And don't even get me started on your diet, my lady. You two will now be under scrutiny and control, and this time, baby, no amount of your pheromones will make us back off."
I rolled my eyes; they were jealous because we females had time just for ourselves, and we weren't worshipping them. It wasn't that bad, or at least my hormonally, glucose-deprived mind thought so.
Number four walked up to our fridge, opened it, and shook his head. While Charles and number one helped Mariella up, someone shut off my TV. That was fine; I had TVs in other bedrooms as well. I got up, and as Wulfe hovered around Mariella, I simply walked out. The few pheromones made a world of difference.
No longer hungry, I walked to the south side of our wing, where I had a nice, comfy bed and a good-sized TV. Since our movies were on our server, I could continue to watch them myself. My pheromones would keep the pack firmly caring for Mariella. After all, I had just alerted them, telling them Mariella needed care, pampering, feeding, attention, and a lot of TLC. This kept them busy and gave me my own peace and quiet.
As I opened my bed and flicked my TV on, I also reached under the bed. There was a huge box there, which I took into bed. Opening it, I found beads, stone beads made from many different crystals, semiprecious stones, and even jewels. There were also needles and string. I simply started to put the beads on a string, making bracelets or necklaces, nothing too complicated.
There were over 80 variations, from chips to big beads, and everything in between. Jurassic Park was on. I was just relaxing, having made sure I had my own time to watch my movies and do my crafts. I was certainly not in the mood to be cared for, not at all.
The snowball gained too much momentum, and my alphaside was actively testing Damon. He likely didn't even notice he would become obsessed with caring for Mariella. Like other Salvatores, not as "pussyslaves" but as husbands, doctors, and pack members, he was drawn to her. My pheromones had marked her as weaker, someone in trouble.
Damon had promised in Australia to be the pack leader, exhibiting a pack member's need to care. I had masked most of my stress scent with my pheromones; pheromones were scents of feelings and sensations, but with skill, one could lie with them. It takes guts and focus, but it's doable. All I had to do was find the correct feeling and let myself feel it, emitting it through my pheromones – or so I thought. Life, however, has a way of teaching lessons, even to me, surprisingly, and not in the way I wanted.