As I got up, it was early morning, and Number Eight was already in the shower. He had a lot to do today, and he had some sort of plan for us to move forward, which he intended to share over breakfast. He was going to start the washing machines right away so he could tackle the next load in the afternoon.
I, on the other hand, was still reeling from everything that had happened and felt utterly exhausted just contemplating the tasks ahead. I had to pull this infernal sled, laden with stones, which was essentially our pack, forward, while Mariella victimized herself. My mate was afraid of me, and he, as usual, lacked the courage to deny Mariella anything.
Consequently, she whined about needing Salvatores, and he procured some for her without consulting the Salvatores themselves. Thus, he was once again abusing his pack leader status, which would only make our situation more difficult. However, surely we could manage, at least to some extent, or perhaps partially.
The bedroom was a deep blue: dark blue rugs covered the floors, and sky-blue shimmering curtains flowed, partially obscuring the windows. A dark blue velvet spread lay neatly folded on a bench at the end of the bed, and I slept in electric blue silk sheets, naked beneath them.
Despite this, I didn't feel particularly seductive and tried to muster some energy, aiming to appear much more invigorated than I actually felt. The nightmare that had gripped me the previous night had left me tired, and even though I had slept the rest of the night in Number Eight's arms without further nightmares, its effects lingered.
I could sense Wulfe working diligently on this particular memory. I couldn't help it; Damien had sunk too deep into my mind. The trauma of being in that dark shuttle, devoid of sound, smell, or sight, with only pain as a sensation, had imprinted itself deeply onto the part of my brain that perceived safety, care, and security. Therefore, I had to ensure my surroundings provided sensory input—sound, smell, light.
I could no longer sleep in darkness or be in pitch-black conditions; I needed some light, some sound, something to anchor me in the present and prevent that memory from resurfacing. I could feel Wulfe's will in my mind, along with several spells, and his love as he noticed I had woken up. He also appeared rather tired, yet simultaneously quite shaken.
As the bathroom door opened, Number Eight emerged, a towel slung around his hips and another in his hand to dry his hair.
"Morning, honeybunny," he began, his voice tinged with the lingering worry about the horror of a nightmare. "That memory... I have no words to describe just how awful it felt. Holding you, trying to help you, feeling your fear, distress, and terror. Even my telepathy couldn't be a miracle cure."
My voice was flat, the weight of everything pressing down on me.
"You know," I said, "I had a gift for Number One, reserved for him after this was all over. But no, he doesn't deserve it. I'm not sure if I'm going to give it to anyone at all. I can keep it."
Despite my dullness, something in my voice made Number Eight perk up. He came and sat beside me.
"Well, bebe," he said, his French endearments a familiar comfort, "how come I feel like this secret of yours isn't very healthy for you to keep? Perhaps I should be the one handling it."
He looked at me with a worried expression.
"It's a creature, an enemy," I explained. "I've kept it prisoner for a long time, draining it, ensuring it doesn't die, but at the same time, I make sure it won't revive when the time comes."
Number Eight fell silent, pondering who this gift might be.
"Well, tell me," he finally asked, "what or who is my gift? I know this is something I need to deal with." He paused, then added, "You know, ma chérie, your anecdote about us, the Salvatore hive being a berry bush, was actually pretty spot on. As we were clipped off, that tiny nub of us stayed, experiencing it all. And since each of us is unique, we all got them in our own unique way. Number One sees himself as number one, but the only thing he is, is that he's the most dominant. Thus, Damien saw him as a threat and imprisoned him. However, since our parents had no idea about us being a hive, they couldn't teach Damien about us. I have no idea what would have happened if he had known."
I nodded and confessed, "It's true, each of you are individuals. The only thing you share is your appearance, nothing else. You react differently to things and in your memories. And our history. You carry deep trauma, long before I became involved with you. You have less trauma concerning Damien. He rarely manipulated you, likely because he saw you as a state of mind similar to his own – inclined to hurt, inflict pain, and kill. Therefore, he left you be. However, individuals like Number Three, the gentler ones, the seducers, he corrupted them, forcing them to subjugate themselves to as many women as possible. He turned sex into a pretty useless activity. Damien was a rapist; he never derived pleasure from sex, as he admitted to me himself."
Number Eight simply listened. These thoughts just arranged themselves in my mind; it was how my mind worked. Sometimes this very analytical nature was tiresome, as I would gather much more information than I actually desired, but my mind simply functioned that way – I couldn't help it. It was part of me being a pretender, a being of chaos, coupled with my hypermemory and an intense ability to focus.
Finally, I relented and said, "Your gift is the very nasty Incubus King, whom you killed when I was dead and then revived. He was brought back by other succubi through an ancient ritual, binding his life force to theirs. This means each of them lent him a bit of their chi to sustain his until he regained his full spark, but the linkage would remain. My witches, however, managed to sever that linkage and ensure a new one couldn't be made. He's kept alive, drained because his blood is useful, but in good condition. My original idea was to let Number One showcase what a vampire king, an ancient being, a wizard, could do to him, ensuring he'd stay dead and letting Damon have fun with him. But he wasn't in the right mood, and he might have misinterpreted my gift."
Number Eight smiled and said, "Oh, thank you, baby. Me as well as several other versions are ready. Numbers Two, Four, and Five are now aware and prepared to deal with him when the time comes. They are also refining my plan for our pack. That damn bastard won't die quickly, and Wulfe knows this too. He has quite a few curses to use that will make him vulnerable. Additionally, ensure his death weakens every damn succubus and incubus. You see, incubi use succubi. As females, they possess the ability to extract chi more efficiently and less painfully from men than when an incubus targets human women. Therefore, it's common for an incubus to enslave or bind several succubi. This allows us to strike them where it hurts, and there are no kind ones among them. Oh, glorious days are to come," he said to me.
"I have chosen your clothes and mine as well. Today, I'm going for Valentino; I have a nice three-piece suit that I've tweaked a bit. I've changed the pants to chinos and added nice loafers, but I'm keeping the shirt and jacket. Your attire choice is Vera Wang; it's a modified wedding dress with some color, and I got you a nice set of heels from Yves Saint Laurent. The others have also been dressing up, and let's just say no one wants to put on the clothes Mariella bought, as she has no idea of our sizes. You, however, clearly do."
I nodded and said, "Well, time and experience have taught me. I have a pretty good eye for sizing, and since I've been buying clothes for Adam, Charles, and the boys for a long time, I know my business. They weren't always happy with my choices, but we had a pact: every ensemble had to be worn for a day, so they also learned a bit more about how to use colors or accessorize. I haven't yet delved into dressing up the Salvatores."
He smirked and replied, "Feel free to accessorize with me. I'm always open to a personal dresser, and you seem to have a damn good eye."
I smiled and said, "Let's just say it took time for Adam to learn to wear a bright pink scarf instead of a dark tie, and for Charles to wear more casual suits, expensive ones, but those were tailored for him, so they fit like a dream. We went to so many fairs, and many of them were clothing and fashion related. Of course, there was a gentlemen's section as well, where I led my guys more than once, and there were always eager women ready to give them a complete makeover."
Number Eight, smiling genuinely, declared, "Once this is over, you must take me to those fairs. Have them revamp me too; I want to experience it all. I'm not as stiff as Number One, who, for his part, has no qualms about Mariella's poor clothing choices, yet he wears them despite their being too short, cheap, tight, and garish. I'll also find a hairdresser and cosmetologist to give you an overhaul, perhaps even letting them change your hair color."
It was, once again, an amazing realization. After all, we had been through, this version of him, the most traumatized, sought my love, wanting to spend time with me, and desiring a life with me beyond this ordeal. I was entirely on board.
He gathered his clothes and began to dress, first laying the garments on the bed while looking at me intently. Then, he removed his towel. I lay back, enjoying the spectacle. However, he proved to be a bit of a tease as he first pulled on his chinos, foregoing underwear, thereby partially concealing his anatomy from my heated gaze. Nevertheless, it was captivating to watch his sculpted muscles ripple beneath his skin as he then donned his shirt, pulling it on with a bestial smile directed at my rather aroused expression.
In a low voice, he said, "Well, I have no idea where this day will lead us, but you might want to watch when I take these off as well."
I simply smiled as he slipped on his loafers and announced, "Alright, baby, I'm off to turn those machines on, and you get dressed. Head to the kitchen; we have people there ready for breakfast, and the kids too. Then, I can reveal my nefarious plan for the future."
He smirked one last time, in a most infuriatingly arrogant manner, before leaving without waiting for my reply.
I lay there, shaking my head, not bothering to ponder his idea. I knew much of this would once again fall upon my shoulders, simply because I possessed the intellect to organize everything as efficiently as possible, along with the motivation to do so.
I slowly got up from the bed, idly considering that if Fiona or Violet were cranky today, I'd have to wear them again. However, I also had flower orders to fill, and if I felt perky enough in the evening, I might have time to make a set of wire-wrapping bases for our most popular designs. Salvatore's were doing them too, but now that Mariella had gotten her hands on them again, there were fewer free people in the evenings to do crafts.
I was also thinking of my own heated body and how I might use my girls to make men's lives a bit more difficult, demanding, and in a very carnal way. The best part would be to get them all excited, knowing they still had chores to do, while I slipped away alone to the spa, enjoying the sauna and leaving them with their frustrations.
They might eventually come back to me, but seduction, teasing, and having fun were important aspects of our lives. It wasn't just about being a mom or dad and doing chores. This was our life, and I wanted it to be good, free of regrets. I hoped that later on, no one would wish they had done more, but rather see that they had lived life well, with family and love. At least, that was my hope.
My attire today was a form-fitting, pink checkered dress in a 50s style, which fit my slender frame like a dream. Sure, it had been a wedding dress as it went along my shape, but checkered pattern changed it fully. I paired it with soft, peach-colored pumps with high heels, featuring the letters YSL. These were quite the showstoppers.
I left my hair down, imagining that if there were males in the kitchen, they would certainly handle my hair. I simply added one of my special hairbands, custom-made from rose quartz, rubies, and sapphires, to keep my hair out of my eyes. I had made this hairband myself, choosing only the best stones, which were quite valuable, for this project.
I had actually also made rings and pendants out of this material, forming a whole set. This set had been one of those things I used to deliberately annoy Damon, particularly when I set out to kill Damien the first time.
I had made this set for myself, just in case Jarod ever became free, as he had promised to marry me. Therefore, these would be my wedding jewelry. And oh boy, did this choice anger not only Damon but also numbers two, five, nine, ten, Adam, and Charles.
I hadn't shown them my set; I only mentioned it to Jarod during one of our video chats. This conversation once again ended with my laptop being smashed to pieces. Afterward, I spent a passionate week with nine and ten. Meanwhile, Mariella was too focused on number one, who no longer cared about me at all.
Anything I did meant nothing to him; from his perspective, he didn't care if I was involved with Jarod, as he had fully let go of his feelings for me. There was nothing left for him to feel. I had brought this about myself, and while it was a difficult time for me, it was also fun and quite liberating.
However, a sharp bout of headache reminded me that those tiny bits of Damon and Wulfe still resided in my brain, preventing me from getting too wild with my ideas of freedom and such. I still had triggers in my mind.
The original idea belonged to Damien, Damon's evil twin, who had intended to implant these triggers in my mind and also in Damon's. Specifically, certain expressions or words from him would re-trigger these sensitivities in me. This was one of his nefarious plans to ruin everything between us. But instead of ruining things, fate and destiny had intervened, leading to this particular weakness, as I perceived it, motivating the Salvatores to love me, care for me, and be there for me properly and once and for all.
It also provided a space for me to grow as a woman and a wife, learning to be loved, which was something I was finally beginning to understand. For so long, I had perceived love in a very specific way and had been quite stubborn about it. Because of my own rigid idea of love, it had been difficult for me to grasp the extent of the Salvatores' love for me and how they truly showed it.
When Damon and I first met, he had the idea of making me a woman. He initiated this, but then other events unfolded. My career as a killer began, and this ambition of his slowly faded into the background. I was already female, lethal, and skilled at my work, but then life intervened, and the whole notion of him making me a woman was eventually forgotten.
While I certainly had a predatory nature, as a sex beast, I was never an actual woman in his eyes. This difference, among other things, led to our drifting apart, as Damon found human women better suited to his emotional and romantic needs than I was.
I was reflecting on our past as I prepared to face the day. Now, I am a wife, the alpha of this pack, and the mother of four cranky babies and ten toddlers. My life is undeniably hectic, but it has also been a continuous source of invaluable lessons, as it should be.