.Waking up early in the morning, I was eager to begin my project and found myself immediately planning breakfast. Since it was the weekend, I knew I could indulge a bit more freely and enjoy some treats. It was likely that no one else would be awake at this hour, not even Adam, who was out with Mimosa, Shadow, and a few other guys. This meant I would have the kitchen all to myself, and I would have plenty of time to start my art project in peace and quiet.
First, I took a shower, washing myself with my new line of dog products. Colin had been very particular about what I used, and he had also replaced my plastic sponge with wash flowers and natural sponges. I had developed a decent itch and rash from scrubbing too harshly, which had caused microplastics to become embedded in my skin, so that was no longer an option.
I also knew I needed to check for fleas, and I had received a few messages from my resistance organization. After reviewing things on the dark web, it seemed likely that I would need to visit the base to ensure everything was running smoothly. But for now, it was time to relax and enjoy a fantastic breakfast. I already had a clear plan in mind for what I wanted and how much I would eat. After that, I could finally begin working on my top-of-the-line art project.
I walked into the kitchen, finding it empty and dark, and flipped the switch, flooding the room with light. The first thing I did was start the coffee.
After smelling the approximately 350 different varieties of coffee available, I almost instantly zeroed in on my preferred type. I took a generous amount of the beans and started my machine, reserving enough for at least a second batch, and possibly a third, to fill my thermos.
Uncertain of the exact amount I would make, I then walked to the fridge and retrieved the massive roast I had prepared yesterday in the outdoor smoking house. It still weighed around 15 pounds: a Wagyu beef brisket roll filled with organ terrine, quail eggs, and various other delicacies. Lifting it onto the unakite counter, I admired its green and pink hues while my glorious roast was ready to be sliced.
However, my preparations were not yet complete. I returned to the fridge and retrieved a large crusted ball of deep-fried dough filled with various bird meats and spices. Wulfe had created this dish, and I hadn't yet tasted it, though I had described to him a traditional Finnish dish where vegetables or fish, and sometimes even blueberries, are wrapped in rye dough and baked. He had put his own twist on it, using a nut-based dough instead of rye, which suited me perfectly.
I placed it next to the roast and proceeded to select a wide assortment of smoked meats that also needed slicing. Furthermore, I had a pot full of boiled eggs to choose from. As I said, this was shaping up to be a wonderful, tasty breakfast.
For dessert, I had a large raspberry cream-filled cake; raspberries were still in season, and the children had picked them to bake into various treats. This was going to be a good day, perhaps even a perfect one.
Just then, Damon entered the kitchen. He had used his abilities, including drugs and telepathic probing, on Mariella to extract a wealth of information that Mimi had taught her. Damon's curiosity drove him, and Mariella, being weaker, had no choice but to comply with his desires. Despite his love for her, Damon was starting to reveal a less pleasant side of himself, a fact Mariella recognized as another challenge she would have to navigate.
Knowing his mood, she decided against trying to seduce or fight him, as every Salvatore was now more closely connected to the hive mind under his control. He could easily spread his ideology to them all, jeopardizing her desired lovey-dovey life.
Damon used the hive and immediately sensed Mimi's smugness, as well as her excitement for the day. It was time to remind her that he was still around, and she might need one of his special lessons right from the start. This lesson, in particular, might confuse her, making her less able to maintain her dismissive attitude toward him. He was confident in his abilities and prepared to remind her.
Just as I was about to cut into my roast, a hand clamped onto my wrist.
A strong, masculine body pressed me tightly against the counter, and a dark, dangerous voice whispered in my ear, "Haven't I told you time and time again, baby, that little girls shouldn't play with big knives? It's obvious you need a lesson."
A strong arm clamped over my waist, effortlessly trapping my wrists, and a thigh pressed between mine from behind, forcing me to spread my legs slightly. His other hand, Damon's hand, as an overpowering scent of passionfruit engulfed me, wandered down my body, finding its way under the waistband of my skirt and into my panties. Three fingers sank into my pussy while his thumb began to work on my clit.
"Be quiet. Not a peep. And I'm watching the hive. Behave and learn your lesson," his voice crooned next to my ear.
His fingers curled inside me, pumping in and out, finding every nerve, and his thumb made my clit swell up, harden, becoming so sensitive that I knew I wouldn't last long. He sank his fangs into my neck, making it even harder to handle, and his fingers sped up. His thumb ground against my slit mercilessly, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning.
He hadn't made me feel like this in what felt like forever; I was putty in his hands, utterly powerless and forced to take it all, to obey him. Soon I was panting, my legs trembling. His fangs dug deeper into my neck, draining my blood, while his fingers were borderline cruel as they worked my G-spot.
I could feel myself dripping, my clit feeling five times its normal size, and I was so close to climaxing, but he held me back. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I bit my lip, tasting my own blood, as his hands kept my wrists in their merciless grip.
White-hot euphoria exploded from my core, flooding my body and igniting every nerve as he finally released me. He retracted his fangs and licked my neck, sending shudders through me. I could feel the dampness of my clothes, a testament to my exertion.
Still trembling in his grip, my orgasm seemed to stretch into eternity before he finally withdrew his hands and licked his fingers.
"Hmm. Strawberries and champagne, baby, still as perfect as ever..." His dark voice crooned in my ear.
Then, he directed me to the table and brought my coffee, reserving a pot for himself as he began to fix my breakfast. Silent, I reached for the coffee pot, my hand trembling slightly as I went to pour a cup into one of my older mugs, but he intercepted, replacing it with a newer one. It seemed the seducer was back in full swing, adding a little more spice to my life.
I wasn't sure how this would affect my art project, but I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on regaining my composure. I steadied my hands, sipped my coffee, and tried to gather myself. Damon compiled my meal, not what I had planned, but a no-nonsense, healthy meal exactly as I should eat.
So much for weekend relaxation! Still, there were other meals to come, and I was determined to ensure Mr. Salvatore, my dear husband, wouldn't be in the kitchen at the same time. Or, if he was, Charles would be there to ensure I got my weekend treat. I was good at planning.
Soon, I heard footsteps, and to my surprise, Mariella and several Salvatores, as well as Charles and the rest of the pack, were joining us for breakfast, even though it was quite early. The kitchen quickly filled with chatter, clanking dishes, and a variety of scents and sounds as everyone began to prepare their own breakfasts.
Charles's expression tightened as Mariella walked to the fridge and retrieved a liter bottle of pomegranate juice. He had instructed her to limit herself to 350 ml per week, a quota she had already exceeded. Now, she was openly defying his orders, further exacerbating the situation by picking and choosing whatever she wanted to eat.
I could feel Charles's irritation growing. Although Salvatore and Damon were present, and it was the weekend, Charles, still acting as her protector, was hesitant to intervene, but he was nonetheless irked.
Feeling somewhat catty, I believed Mariella was due for some serious discipline, but I needed to be cunning to orchestrate it.
Using telepathy through the hive mind, I contacted Damon: "Damon, look, Mariella is eating whatever she wants, and Charles is about to lose it. However, because it's the weekend, he's letting it slide. I wonder what Mariella would do with a good lesson?"
Damon looked around before replying, "Sure, but if I'm the one to administer it, it wouldn't be a lesson she understands. What do you have in mind?"
Keeping my tone calm, I replied, "Charles can give Mariella effective lessons, ones she truly understands. I don't want to come across as catty, but if you see the need for her to get a grip on her eating and you don't feel you are perfect for it, why not suggest Charles? He is her protector, and she might understand him pretty damn fast."
Damon smirked, and I could sense him reaching out to Charles. Charles glanced at him and then stalked towards Mariella like a jungle cat. He slammed her face into the wall and, in a low, dangerous voice, reached for the bottle of pomegranate juice.
Charles's muscular body trapped Mariella against the wall, and his large hand went under her skirt. Soon, a wet sound filled the air, but the pained whimpers escaping Mariella's mouth were not lust-filled sighs.
Charles was hurting her more than pleasuring her, giving her a lesson she wouldn't soon forget. Damon ate his food in peace, and I could see a smug smirk on his face as Mariella seemed to reach out to him, but there was no mercy.
After her grueling lesson, Mariella sat in her place, waiting for Charles to bring her food and drinks. She maintained a neutral expression, but I could detect micro-expressions of irritation directed towards Damon, as well as the other Salvatores. Her little "pussyslaves," as she saw them, had seemingly grown a spine, and no longer defended her. She hadn't fully considered the consequences when she allowed the Salvatore coven to reunite.
Damon was now using everything he knew, including information gleaned from Mariella's mind, to strengthen the Salvatore hive, thereby diminishing her influence over them. Mariella was displeased, but she recognized this as a lesson in the repercussions of her actions; every action elicits a reaction, and this could, and did, lead to unforeseen consequences, which frustrated her immensely. They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and it was time for her to learn that as well.
After consuming what felt like a mountain of food and sharing every coffee pot with Damon, who happily drank from my mug, I was finally able to leave the table, leaving the others to continue eating. I walked to the craft room while Damon remained, chatting with Tim, Taylor, Wulfe, Alaric, and the other boys about their plans.
One favorite activity was chopping wood by hand with an axe, not a machine, as it was a good way to manage rage, and they all enjoyed it. Some of the boys and wolves were going to rake leaves since it was autumn and the weather was pleasant.
However, I was focused on my art project: a vine painting that would span about three meters, be quite wide, and feature various accents, some made of pure gold, silver, and platinum. I had previously emptied nearby bank deposit boxes and had several ingots, which I intended to use.
The process would be layered; I had a special printer that had printed the vine in pieces on sticky paper stencils. These stencils would be applied to the wall, revealing small holes to be painted in specific colors. As this paint was ultra-fast drying, once a layer was completed, I would remove the stencil and apply the next, which would expose different areas. I also had a list detailing which tones to use with each stencil.
The paints I used were ultra-vivid, and I mixed them specifically for this project using a special machine. I had planned my vine design with a computer, then printed it out and ordered the necessary paints and accents.
Although I had a general idea of the final appearance, the computer screen's small size meant translating it to a large scale would require considerable effort, but the result would be grand. I hadn't shared my plans with anyone yet.
Furthermore, I had folders full of ready-made stencils that I intended to offer to others interested in creating similar designs, perhaps as a border near the ceiling. The vast number of paints and shades available allowed for custom mixing, and while I didn't discourage the use of computers, it would take time.
I was also uncertain about how long we would remain in this house, as something could always arise, such as a trip to the base to check on things or some other unforeseen event. Therefore, I was embracing the present moment and going with the flow, avoiding excessive planning while also proactively moving forward.
Now healed and in good shape, life felt enjoyable once again. The lesson Damon had taught me added a bit more intrigue, suggesting he hadn't completely lost interest in me or was no longer entirely under Mariella's control. However, the future could be either pleasant or unpredictable.
As the hours passed, I thoroughly enjoyed my project. Although it currently consisted of random green dots on the wall, it would eventually come together. The leaves were beginning to take shape, and once they were complete, I planned to use a special, gentle solvent to subtly blur the colors, enhancing their lifelike quality.
Mariella approached to observe my progress, furrowing her brow as she struggled to understand my vision. I was standing on a ladder, or rather, a small table that allowed me to move back and forth as I meticulously painted each piece in place.
"What is this?" she asked. "What is it going to be? Some kind of modern art installation?"
I replied, "Nope, a vine. I'm using multiple shades and these stencils to ensure accuracy since I lack the artistic flair to paint this freehand. I planned it on the computer, created these stencils, had a special machine mix my pigments, and now I'm just applying them one by one."
A dark voice, close to me, said, "Really, Mimi, baby, you didn't need to share this with me. Was that lesson something you want to repeat, or what?"
I continued with my artwork, even as my pussy got the idea and became very wet, and quickly so. A smug little chuckle escaped from Damon's lips, a response to my state of arousal.
I said, "There are ready-made stencils and paints in the craft room. Those spaces near the ceilings could use decorative boards."
Adam's calm voice interjected, "Fine. Tim, Taylor, Alaric, and the boys are ready to tackle those. It seems your work is quite large; surely you could help."
I kept my mouth shut; this was *my* work, not just some pack project. Adam wasn't pack leader; Charles was. However, there was a steel in his voice that told me it wasn't a mere suggestion.
Damon hopped to my table, came right next to me, and watched as I painted a small piece in very light green using the tiniest brush, as these were details I was adding right now. I wasn't even halfway done, and there were a huge number of little slots to be painted. This was my 18th paint, and there were well over 80 shades in all, as this had flowers as well.
Damon came behind me, grabbed my hand, and said in my ear, "Come on, baby, let's do this together. See, easy does it, just let it flow, don't force the brush, you end up breaking it, keep it light."
His hand directed mine, and even though I was a lefty, he was ambidextrous, so it wasn't hard for him.
Mariella asked, "What can I do?"
Adam responded, "Come on, let's go choose a project over here. See, this wall needs sprucing up. She had ready-made sets, so we got to work. I can help you the same way Damon helps Mimi; after all, I am your husband."
Mariella was quiet; it seemed she was getting attention from her other husbands, and it was no longer her choice who to be with.
Ten minutes later, I said to Damon, "There are extra cups. I have this shade left, so why don't you take a cup and start from that end? That way, we can make this faster."
His voice crooned in my ear, "What's the matter, wifey, can't be near me? Oh, I can smell, I can smell so damn well. I am not leaving you yet, nope, we are doing this together, as a couple."
We continued, and he pressed right against me, keeping my hand in his. From time to time, he pressed our scars together, each time causing the colors of his tattoo to become more vibrant. Simultaneously, my tattoo gained a nice picture of us in the kitchen, capturing me during my lesson. Then, a portion of my tattoo became almost like something from a pornographic book, with explicit imagery, but perhaps it revealed truths about me.
When it was time to apply the next stencil, Damon took the lead, placing several of them in their designated slots. He then used magic to color the stencils, allowing us to see the color that each slot was to be painted.
Having learned of my emptying my safety deposit boxes, he reminded me in a low, dangerous voice that he was still my guardian and handled my money. Therefore, it would be up to him to decide where the rest of the ingots would go. That was fine by me; I was rich enough.
I then started to add the outside lines as well as veins to the leaves, using gold and silver paints. Currently, Damon, Number Two and Four, Mariella, Charles, and Wulfe were participating in this art installation with me, so I continued on.
Mariella, who was finishing the flowers, as she had moved on to our artwork, asked me, "What's next? There are no stencils for the flowers."
I responded, "It's time to get creative. See, I'm using gold and silver to create the outside lines and veins. You, take this."
I gave her a small cup of platinum paint and, moving near the flowers, directed her: "See those stalks inside the flowers? Take the smallest brush and just put a tip of paint on the end of each of them, like this."
As I was demonstrating, Number Two got closer and again grabbed my wrist, saying, "Let me show you. You dip your pencil lightly, so there is just a shimmer of paint on the end, but not a bead. Then, like this, tap it gently; don't put a whole lot of paint there. After this, take this metallic green, and using this fine brush, trace these lines like this."
He demonstrated with my hand. Mariella was almost smiling at my little trouble with the overeager male, but her smugness faded away as Number One snapped his fingers, and Number Three joined in, soon assisting Mariella by hand.
As number two stepped aside to resume his previous task, I returned to my station to continue adding lines and accents to the artwork. I had my metal paints, a variety of shades including green, pink, red, blue, gold, and silver, some even containing real precious metals.
However, my time was limited because number four approached and offered to take over, saying, "Let me do that; I have a steadier hand. Besides, I don't trust those metals not to harm you."
I rolled my eyes but conceded, deciding to start blending the colors of leaves instead.
I grabbed my special solvent, poured it into a cup, and selected a fresh, small brush.
I approached the first leaf I had painted, ready to dip my brush into the solvent, when Wulfe asked, with an innocent but loud tone that ensured Damon would hear, "That smells nasty. Have you cleared it with Charles or Damon? I'm not sure you should inhale that stuff, considering your sensitive lungs."
I rolled my eyes again and added water to the solvent, saying, "See, it's all right now. I just diluted it so I can finish these colors."
Before I could do anything, Damon walked up behind me, took the cup, and smelled it.
He then took the brush and said, "Come on, let me. This isn't as nasty for me as it is for you. Go make some outlines."
My frustration was mounting. This had been fun until half the pack had come in and butted into my project. But this was just pack life, a lesson I was relearning since no one else seemed to have any issues.
Fine, let's add some bling. I grabbed the next jar, which contained crushed glass and crystal chips, intending to use it on the flowers.
As I picked up my brush and paint and approached the flowers, Charles asked from right behind me, "That's not doing outlines. Come on, Mimi honey, let's do this together."
Oh my god, I thought to myself. But as Charles's big hand took mine, and he began to guide the brush, dictating how much and what color we used, I had no choice but to let it happen. Soon, Damon also noticed my accent, bling colors, and grabbed several shades he could use as well, proving he was good at multitasking.
Mariella didn't have time for herself, but Adam and even one of the Salvatores were helping her. At one point, Magnum joined in, too. Meanwhile, Elena and Katherine were creating their own art piece on the wall with Tim Taylor, Murdock, and Dexter, who were also assisting. This was the current fashion, with men supporting women.
In fact, we all had someone literally holding our hand, pressing close, and, more or less, dominating us, but I remained calm. Most of the men here, fourteen of them, were my husbands. Wulfe was my soulmate, Colin my secret mate, and the others were also very close to me.
So, yes, this was pack life, where twenty-four males and six females lived together, whether they were vampire shifters, vampires, vampire wizards, or simply metahumans. None of us were human anymore, which brought a new perspective to all our interactions.
Surely Tim, Taylor, Dexter, Murdock, and Colin might find it a little hard to adjust, but Colin had lived a long time, even longer than me. Alaric wasn't new to this either, and the others had grown into this life together, so it wasn't so bad, not at all.
I had no idea what the future held for us all and how much it would change us. Then again, perhaps so little would change despite the big impact it would have on our lives; maybe that said something about our resilience.
Of course, time would present real hurdles to overcome, and as this project would take not weeks, but years, it would teach me and the others some valuable lessons—some good, some less so, but all important.
Finally, we finished painting the art piece. It was well past midnight, as we had taken breaks to eat and kept a thermos full of coffee for each of us to snack on while working. But it was done.
It truly transformed the wall, and a feeling of accomplishment was shared throughout the entire pack. I could feel it within the hive. We had all done our part by hand, and it had made a real difference since magic or any other quick methods hadn't been used this time. This had been a genuine success.