As I woke up utterly drained and sweaty, with no sense of time or day, I sighed inwardly. I had vague memories of being ill and feverish, and there was always someone near me, keeping me calm and helping me sleep. Now, however, I could feel that my fever had broken and I was on the mend, but by God, I was wiped out.
I felt like I had no energy left, though I needed to pee. As usual, but this time, there was no restlessness driving me to crawl—only a sense of sweaty weakness and a kind of healing.
I opened my crusty eyes and noticed that the bedroom was dim; thick curtains were drawn over the windows, and the room was hushed, so I assumed it was nighttime. I struggled with my movements, trying to get my body moving and to remove the heavy layers of blankets over me.
Despite being wet with sweat, it felt wonderful. Oh God, I needed a shower, but first, a trip to the bathroom for a pee was in order. Then, perhaps I could take it easy and see if I had the energy to wash myself.
It was strange—there was no bump or heaviness as I sat up, and looking at my hands, I realized I was quite skinny, very much so. I wasn't sure if I even weighed 40 kilos. Still, there was recovery food in the freezer, and I felt I could do more.
And my babies—I wondered if they were okay. I recalled Damon telling me I was anemic, but since I had no lines in, I wasn't sure if I had received a blood transfusion or if my body had started making new blood on its own.
Many thoughts came to mind as I sat on the edge of my bed, preparing to stand up. I felt like Bambi taking its first steps. Steadying myself on the nightstand, I got to my feet. Whoa, I felt kind of dizzy, but I held on tight and waited for my head to regain its balance.
After all, it seemed I had been sick for quite some time. My body, unaccustomed to prolonged inactivity, truly disliked being sedentary. I was meant to move, and long stretches trapped in bed had made me lazy, requiring considerable effort to get going. However, as I possessed immortal time, I could afford to be patient.
The air around me was thick with the scents of laundry detergent on the linens, my own sour sweat, and even my breath. Faint but still perceptible, pheromones wafted through the air, carrying the scent of caring love and worry. These were emanating from many men and even some girls.
It appeared that many pack members had once again been affected by me and my peculiar illnesses. I couldn't help my thoughts; it was simply how I felt, like a burden whenever my sickness necessitated the pack falling over backward to assist me.
Finally, I regained enough balance to take actual steps. Of course, I wasn't pregnant, but my extended pregnancy had made my body accustomed to a certain state. Now, it was an entirely new challenge to find my footing and understand where my muscles needed to provide support. Still, I had time.
I made my way to the bathroom and peed like a horse. Oh, it felt wonderfully exhausting. As I slowly awoke more, and my body began to stir, hunger and thirst soon became evident. I started planning my next moves.
A trip to the kitchen would surely be manageable without completely wiping me out. Then, if I gained some energy, I would need to change my bedding or perhaps find a clean room to rest in. A few days of rest and taking it easy, and I would soon be right as rain—thin but capable, no longer a bedridden, sick husk or an overly bloated whale.
I swore to myself that I would not get pregnant again anytime soon. Otherwise, I might do something drastic to my dear husband, who seemed remarkably gifted at getting a bun in my oven, so to speak.
I woke my body up and stretched, realizing I desperately needed to drink gallons of water and eat something, anything. I wasn't sure if I could digest meat yet, but ice-cold fruits and berries seemed perfect.
I wondered if I'd have the energy to whip up a strawberry curd and cream mixture; it would be just perfect. I didn't even bother to check the time as I left the bathroom, slipped on my fuzzy slippers, and exited my room. To my surprise, it wasn't as dark as I'd assumed, and I could actually hear voices. Perhaps it was still evening, and someone was still awake.
I made my way towards the kitchen, not really caring how I looked or what I was wearing – a damp nightgown and mussed, partially still damp hair from sweating profusely as my fever broke.
"Baby, what on earth?" a voice asked behind me just as I was about to enter the kitchen.
I turned around to see Mariella and Damon walking towards me, their expressions puzzled.
"Are you feeling better? Should you be up yet?" Mariella asked.
"I'm thirsty and hungry," I replied. "I'm going to get something to drink and then maybe make myself strawberries, whipped cream, and curd. I can eat something, but I'm not sure if meat is too much for me. My fever broke, and I need a shower at some point, but first, I need a drink," I explained.
As Mariella came to me and grabbed me as if afraid I would topple over, Damon interjected, "Well, let's go to the kitchen. It's only the afternoon. I was about to come and check on you, but if you're hungry, I can get you something a bit better than your foamy dessert and drinks. Yes, you are dehydrated. A shower can be arranged too. Actually, I think I'll turn on the spa, and you can use the sauna and wash, and then we'll get you a nice clean room to rest," he muttered, stringing together plans before I had any chance to ask anything.
It seemed obvious he wasn't going to ask for or wait for my opinion. Fine, I'd just go with the flow.
I was led into the kitchen, where a few other Salvatores were preparing food. Number Five looked at me and moved without a word, while Wulfe, ever the comfort, came over and hugged me. He murmured about how awful I looked, but how happy he was to see me recovering.
Number Three brought a large, steaming mug of broth to Damon and me. As Number One sat beside me, he conjured a straw and carefully guided it to my lips, ensuring I sipped the hot liquid without burning my mouth.
"What do you want for her?" Number Two asked Number One. "I have meatballs, mash, meat sauce, terrines, and some thickened chicken soup for the kids."
Number One replied, "Meat sauce, meatballs, a bit of mash, terrines, and cracklings. Those should be in the freezer, left side. I just snatched it from her mind."
Wulfe chimed in, "Yeah, her recovery foods are on the left side. There are plenty of them, so go ahead and pick what you need. Coffee, my love?" he asked me.
I nodded; the thought of aromatic coffee sounded like heaven, even though I was sweaty and hot.
Number One nodded, and it seemed he was engaged in a telepathic discussion with several other Salvatores, as well as about Mariella's food. They then turned their attention to feeding her. Mariella rolled her eyes, but she had little choice as Damon glanced at her sharply.
Soon, I was brought food, and Damon, sitting beside me, constantly directed me on what to eat and in what order.
As I chewed slowly, unsure how my stomach would handle the food, he crooned, "Come on, Mimi, go on, take the terrine next. That's it, go on, you can eat. I'll make sure of that."
It felt a bit overwhelming, but a part of me realized that perhaps it was time for me to change, too, to learn to accept this care.
Mariella was eating her soup, chicken soup with steaks and mash, but she prioritized the soup.
She was planning to get up, but Damon said to her, "Nope, you are not going to get any pomegranate juice. Charles gave me your stats, and my radar is up to date on you, too. It messes with your minerals, weakening your bones, and no more of that shit anytime soon. Actually, Adam and the boys will have an exercise routine for you to strengthen your bones."
Mariella snapped her mouth shut, silenced by a sharp glare from Number One, who made her cease her objections.
I remembered I had juice in my special freezer, which I could also have. As Number One was also getting a meal, I got up and walked into the kitchen, with Mariella following me, unsure of what I was doing.
"I'm getting myself a little treat," I explained.
In our kitchen, there was a smaller room containing our larger pantry and a special freezer. This freezer was meant for liquids, but since I had placed items over the lid when it was filled about a year ago, no one had paid much attention to it, as it was rarely needed.
However, when all this began, we had had good crops the following autumn. I had made juices and frozen them, and there were plenty of different broths and some of my milks in there, too.
As I cleared the surface, the Salvatores were focusing on feeding the older girls: May, Emmylee, Britney, and Ashley. They hadn't noticed me. The girls seemed to be complaining because Damon had tasted their blood, as had the other Salvatores. This led the Salvatores to be much stricter with food, meaning no more snacking whenever they pleased.
Ashley and Emmylee had come in to get baguettes, which they usually did. Bread is one of the things Damon rarely permits, so the mere mention of these ladies planning their subs made him see red. Consequently, the girls were given lectures, proper food, and their baguettes were removed, as that kind of "trash food" was no longer allowed.
After I finally opened the lid, Mariella exclaimed, "Oh, whoa, I had no idea! Wow, what do you have in here?"
Her exclamation naturally drew the attention of Number One, who soon joined me, along with the other Salvatores and a Wulfe.
Wulfe remarked, "Oh, our juices! I had almost forgotten them. Well, they are delicious. And oh, our original broths! Do you recall those few days when we made all of them?"
I nodded.
Number Two then chimed in, "Now, let us take an inventory of what we have here. And, my wife, what were you looking for, anyway?"
I replied, "Just some juice, as it is good for me. In my current state, I suspect my sugars will act up, so juice is a good option; at least Charles said so."
Number One murmured in my ear, "Oh, Saint Charles. Fine, move over. I will take stock. And yeah, most of the juices are good for you, but as smoothie bases or in desserts, you need caffeine. Mostly, Coke is a better option for that."
As I reached for the raspberry blueberry juice, Number Four, this time, grabbed it from me. "You heard Number One, baby. Move over, let us check this out."
Mariella muttered something as she was also checking the juices, and she, too, was pushed away. Number Four then grabbed my milk pouches that I had reserved in there while the other Salvatores took stock.
I saw Number Five writing everything down on a datapad, as they had already compiled lists of the contents of each freezer and pantry. Their pedantic nature was evident, and it made my teeth grind; there was no need to list everything all the time.
As Wulfe ensured I was not going to fall over, I returned to my spot at the table.
He turned to me and said, "Now, listen, and listen well. You are skinny and tired, and you are still recovering. The babies are still in incubators, and Mariella's babies, being within their adjusted age, are not yet large enough to be independent, so they also need care. It is not the time for you to overexert yourself and collapse; instead, behave and do as you are told. Let us help and care for you, ensuring you recover as you should. You were out of it for nearly two weeks with a nasty infection, and now is not the time for you to be at your strongest, so don't even consider it."
I nodded, surprised by Wulfe's assertiveness, protectiveness, and his overbearing attitude. He wasn't usually so commanding or confrontational. However, I suppose circumstances had changed him too, and after two weeks of a nasty infection, males tend to become protective. Therefore, it was my own attitude that needed correction, not so much the behavior of others.
As I sat there eating, I realized I hadn't truly bonded with my babies. Of course, considering everything and the nature of my pregnancy, perhaps this was a form of baby blues or something similar. However, as soon as this thought entered my head, a sharp headache lanced through my skull.
Wulfe snapped, "I have placed a spell in your mind that snatches any and all thoughts that might bring you harm. This means that as you were about to convince yourself you had baby blues or postpartum depression, and with your willpower would have made it so, this stops it. It also alerts the Salvatores and me, and we will prevent your self-harming tendencies."
His expression, with pale, furious eyes and a tightly drawn mouth, revealed his concern. As I smelled the air and his pheromones, I realized he was genuinely scared for me, knowing my capabilities, and he wasn't going to let me descend into depression.
Number One added, "You haven't bonded with the babies because you haven't smelled them, touched them, or seen them, but you will. Just give it time; I reckon a day or two, and you'll have your hands full. Besides, toddlers need you, too, so now is not the time to get twisted in your mind."
I nodded, my mind feeling somewhat sore as I felt Wulfe aggressively erasing any thoughts of my baby blues.
It was time for me to once again change my perspective and my assumptions. It seemed that promise had done to Damon; now that he was free, he was realizing the freedom of making his own choices. Surely, I had no idea how this would turn out in the real world once it was all over and the promise was back. Would he have grown or not? One can never know for sure; that's the future in our pack.
Despite Mariella, Mimosa, and even Damon having the ability to see the future at one point, I, being chaos personified, always threw them off so badly that they stopped trying to see possibilities. My unpredictability brought so many new choices and possibilities they had never seen, making their once-fancy ability rather redundant when dealing with me.
Furthermore, as they too became chaos, or got some of my chaos powers, it made it even harder to see the future. Therefore, it was easier to just wait and see than to look through endless loops of possibilities, none of which would come to pass.
So, it seemed that once more, it was time to start living and try to be a wife as well as a mother to ten children. Well, easier said than done, right?