Christmas and the new year passed as time passed. Mariella and Damon were still completely in love, being mostly downstairs and, oh my god, having fun upstairs. I had weekdays or nights with Salvatores, not all of whom were taken by Mariella but by me, as well as weekends with others.
I was usually full of bite marks, bruises, and whatnot in the morning because I had undoubtedly taught them to love, but they returned the favor and began to coax me to combine my rage and lust. I had done it a few times in the past, once with Magnum, and as I had mentioned in passing to Wulfe, he had become jealous, but this had given Salvatores the idea to start to really use it as a way to get my rage and frustrations under control.
But then, after a few weeks, right around New Year's, both of them got their act together and came upstairs now and then, but as it was, I was working, as were most of us. And I had a horde of husbands to look after me and my neuroses, as well as my nasty side, which was pressed down almost daily, and my darkness was kept in check.
I was surely less sassy and eager to take control of the entire world when I was fucked out of my mind and had to wake up at 5:30 a.m. to get kids' lunch bags, men's lunchboxes, and my own meals in order and then get ready to go to work at 9 a.m.
Kids were taken to daycare by some version of Salvatore, and I was then picking them up as they went now at 11:30, four hours means they got home at 15:30, meaning my days in those days were quite full.
Mariella also worked, and one thing that annoyed me was that we took the same route, which meant she was in the car with me both times. For some reason, I couldn't stand her during my pregnancy. I had no idea why, but her voice, scent, and everything about her fucked me to the max, and driving with her was always a test of my self-control.
Salvatores had found fun in making lunchboxes and lunch bags, and it was usually done like this: one team came up with what to put in lunch bags for whom. And then they collected and readied most of the stuff, as well as put up a list of what was meant for whom.
Morning shift: it was pretty much me and the girls, as well as Wulfe, who had to then read the list and compile those said boxes, and as the kids got home, there was another shift feeding them, and checking if they had eaten everything and
There were also a few guys making actual breakfast while we were filling those bags and boxes for men. Salvatores and who knows who had also listed who should eat what. And it was one damn show that always took so-called orders, fulfilled them, and had them ready on time because some of the guys went to work pretty early.
We were now hoarding money because we needed it, and this meant everyone was working as hard as they could. Charles and Damon had combed through benefits from everywhere and done everything possible to maximize our earnings, and when I got home, I might have had some orders from an online shop or I needed to make some arrangements for the next day.
I tried to find time to spend with kids who were usually hungry, cranky, and overtired from refusing to nap in daycare, so it was up to men and girls who were kids and baby duty to feed the kids, put them down for naps, and prepare more food for them. Make sure I was eating as well.
Weekends were busy in a medical sense because numbers one, two, and four checked everyone, including me, in my sleep, but because there were so many of us, it usually took the entire weekend to translate results of tests for upcoming weeks, eating, lunch boxes, and so on.
Number one was working on ER three days a week while maintaining his private practice in Roseau two days a week. Charles, Adam, the boys, and four salvatores had driving gigs that ranged from day shifts to driving for a week and then taking a week off.
Wulfe was working five days a week from 7.30 a.m. to 4.30 p.m. and was exhausted, but he had been promoted and received a higher salary. I was in my shop at least three days a week, usually five, and the shop was closed on weekends unless you counted online shops.
It was the end of January, and this damn winter was harsh, with lots of snow, brutal westerly winds, and cold as hell, which meant we used a lot of wood and trash and lit several fireplaces, and it was not uncommon for us to huddle upstairs near warmth rather than warm up the entire damn house when it was particularly chilly, windy, and snowy.
It was our 22nd week, and this was yet another Friday as I trudged from my warm bed with my husband, who had awoken as well, and went to shower because most of us would be working. Number two had a driving gig, but he was coming home for the weekend later on today.
Damon was working in a hospital, and I was again on duty to put up lunch bags. Wulfe was absent because he had another meeting in Minneapolis, but he, too, would return home later that evening, as his flight would land.
Charles and Adam were on grocery and baby duty, as were five of our older girls: May, Britney, Lily, Ashley, and Emmylee. Others were assisting Mariella in her shop while also working temporary jobs. Damon would leave before 7 a.m., so I would prepare his lunchbox first. Numbers three, eight, and ten would also leave around 7.30 a.m., so I had to pack for the men first.
Mariella walked into the kitchen, tired and yawning. I had already taken a lot out of the fridge, piled it up, and opened the men's lunch bags, which were stainless steel and had many lockers. I grabbed lists from the wall to see what was planned for them. They were kind of orders.
Sure, there weren't any measurements. I read number one's list, which said "wagyu patties, pasta salad, mixed nuts 3, cranberry juice, orange juice, chicken thigh skewers, and dark chocolate."
Mariella went to the fridge, took one of her plates, and walked to the table to snack on something; she was not nauseous, but she was hungry, and she wanted to eat, but Men had made her diet quite strict, whereas I had no appetite until the afternoon, and even then I was picky, which was one of the reasons I was filled every night as much as they could cram into me their bump.
As I was starting to compose number one's lunchbox, Adam walked in and said, "Oh honey, let me help. I can take care of three and eight for starters, and then I'll help you with the kids too."
He deftly began to pick and choose what was required and quickly assembled the lunchbox; I had already completed almost all the number one's, and I was just getting his coffee into his large thermos so he could have suitable coffee at least part of the day.
Weekends were not only medical days but also days for tasting and updating, which meant protector work. I had to snack on each Salvatore, update their books, and then medical minds would look at them and order tests and whatnot. Which meant I was snacked on by ten Salvatores, more or less, because each of them had a slightly different perspective on what it came to for me.
Kids and babies were also tasted, and numbing energy was used to make it painless, but updates were important. What was most hilariously ironic was that I was not blood hungry; I had forced myself to drink blood, which made me shake my head more than once, so weekend tasting was not my favorite thing because blood was not what I wanted. I had to drink from the ten. It was always a yuck moment for me.
I continued to place number one's lunch bag, coffee, and all the other items that were required; of course, I had to remember to place utensils for him as well as a few other items that were not on his order, but I had a routine and knew my job here.
Adam was humming under his breath, and he was wearing a dark mauve tee shirt and black jeans that were tight as hell. I noticed Mariella looking at him from time to time, but I was content with my nightly sessions, and my poor pussy felt ever so sensitive.
I was wearing pink jeans and a white t-shirt, and my hair was in a ponytail, but I had an idea to make a bun with braids; I had looked up ideas on the internet a few days ago, and because my hair was so thick and long, not everything worked perfectly, as some styles may appear overly heavy because I had so much hair, but this might work; it will take some tinkering, but I can do it.
"Mimi, what do you need me to do?" Mariella inquired as she brought her plates to the dishwasher.
Oh, I wanted to say, "Get lost and don't come near me," as her voice grated my ears again.
But I kept my irritation in check and said, "Start with Candice, Amber, and Tiffany. Orders are there. I'll be done with number one soon, and I can handle ten; Adam will probably help you out, or he'll start on my end," I said.
As it was, number ten walked in and said to me, "Fine, I'll make your and Mariella's lunches so you can do mine, and then I'll fix your hair. Nice idea, my love, but let me do my version of it."
I sighed as my idea was snatched from my mind, and Number Ten just smirked so damn arrogantly, but kept his gaze on Mariella, who tended to snack while making lunchboxes because she was hungry and then some.
I was just idly pondering as I closed number one's case and placed it on the side table, wondering how many damn litters we'd have after these and whether any of them would be normal pregnancies with no strange problems, or if this was just part of the education and time in this pocket universe. You never know, but you can always try your hardest and hope for the best, even if you don't know what you're doing half the time.
As I was preparing the next lunchbox for number ten, he asked, "Baby, come on, tell me how it felt after you first killed Damien; I know I was a mess back then, and it took mostly two, five, and four to put your dark side to sleep, but I wanna know."
I shrugged, knowing why he asked. Mariella had been talking to a lot of Salvatores, getting them to open up, even if number eight was almost seeking my security from her. There was something nasty in his past that he did not want to face, but numbers ten and nine had gotten pretty damn good at empathy as well as eating other feelings than rage, and he was just making sure I had no triggers in my mind.
They discovered about a month ago that Damien, possibly Krycheck, and other nasties had placed triggers in my mind; they were aware of this but had never found them. And those triggers were nasty; what they first discovered caused me to almost shut off all of my feelings, and I was very cold to them.
It was only number five who remembered Wulfe telling him about my triggers, such as certain phrases and gestures, quite some time ago. However, he had also placed them in my memories.
Wulfe and the Salvatores were tasked with quickly locating and removing memories associated with specific sensations and feelings. This was one reason for my fuck-therapy, as it prevented me from triggering myself at night.
I took a deep breath and responded, remembering everything. "I was free; my darkness gave me freedom like no other, and I realized Damien was gone. Damon, number one, he was history; Adam and Charles had pulled back quite a bit as number one, and Mariella manipulated them. And I was free to do whatever I wanted; I was no longer a leader, no longer an example, and it..."
I grimaced as sharp pain hit my mind; Wulfe, even when he was working, was constantly monitoring me, and Number Ten hit my brain as well, blocking my sensation of freedom and fading memory of it.
"Fine, we have to deal with this; we have one more trigger here," he said.
And I could feel more telepathic work in my mind as other salvatores came to make sure I did not get to that trigger. Hell, I had no idea what it would have made me do. But there had been stuff like withdrawing from others, being alone, not telling others what I was doing, feeling hollow and lonely, almost trying to make me even more psychopathic, if that was possible.
There had been few to unleash my darkness and my killer side, as well as my vampire side. But I had both my husband and my soulmate making sure I was taken care of, because that was what this was all about: love and caring.
One thought occurred to me, which was somewhat irrelevant because we were still in this world, a pocket universe of sorts, but I couldn't help but wonder what could be done, as only a year would have passed in the real world by the time this was all over. And, since the majority of the pack was on a world-saving mission, they may not have had time to deal with this.
I asked Adam, "Adam, did you hear anything about the Krycheck situation before this started? Magnum mentioned it, and it just came to mind as I was thinking about how to deal with it."
"And what that might be, baby?" a soft but distinctly irritated voice asked behind me.
Number one had just walked in and heard my question; he wanted to know everything, all the time.
Adam grunted, "No idea, honey; care to elaborate?"
I took a deep breath and said, "Well, Magnum had a few hints about a new technique that Krycheck was attempting to perfect, which was meant to trigger VENOMS to vampires but not with blood, but with drugs, manipulation, and faster than venoms would hit. I'm not sure how accurate the information was, if they changed anything, or what could be done; could Krycheck pull it off? Just came to mind because it is not a simple problem to solve."
Number one grunted and snapped. "No, it is not, and you can be certain that you will not get anywhere near Krycheck if this type of technique is used. Not until we can make sure he doesn't do it to you or anyone else."
Tension rose in the kitchen as Salvatores communicated telepathically and began to plan what they would do if necessary. We still had nine or ten years left, so we had time. It wasn't as acute. Now it was time for another workday and then a weekend, for which I was grateful.
It was almost another week done and dusted, and oh my god, I had been waiting for weeks. Everyday life can be extremely exhausting, with both advantages and disadvantages. Making money like this, let's just say I'd be very grateful once this is over.