We were still in the meat locker, chopping up meat. Mariella had become quite skilled at packing and labeling it, often seeking Damon's opinion on portion sizes and label wording. Together, they had streamlined several processes. Damon had also taken inventory of our stock, quickly informing me of the specific cuts he needed.
I rolled my eyes, already disagreeing with his instructions on one particular cut, and then moved on to other tasks. As I approached the bandsaw with a forequarter of beef and flicked it on, Mariella hissed something to Damon.
Soon, he was standing behind me, saying, "Let me handle this, baby. It's been a while since I've used this, and it'll free you up for finer work."
Rolling my eyes again, I went to cut my strip steaks. I was planning to barbecue an enormous steak for myself, anticipating it would weigh approximately 7 to 9 kilos raw and take about 14 hours to cook. I had already reserved the meat for it.
I showed a clip of this planned feast to May and Emmylee, asking, "Guess what Mommy's going to eat on Sunday?"
May exclaimed, "No freaking way! Oh wow, I want in! You can't eat all that yourself!"
I replied, "Maybe I can! I'll give you my leftovers then, but first, I need to roll this baby up, season it, and get it on the grill."
After Mariella's girls watched the clip, Damon, along with Number Five, was soon watching me with a certain expression.
"Don't worry, baby," Damon said. "Make a few more of these. I'll go set up the grills. The boys are eager to season them, and we'll have a nice Sunday lunch with a sea of meat. Oh, by the way, we need meaty rib racks as well, so make sure we have those."
Fine, I suppose I could share. Damon's smug smirk did not escape my notice, and I struggled to contain my irritation. My nausea persisted, but I had my weekend snacks. I reached into my pocket and put a small handful of roasted and salted cashew nuts in my mouth—a big mistake.
"What did you just eat, baby?" Damon asked.
I replied, "Salted and roasted cashews. I can't eat anything else until afternoon except for these or my meaty snacks, and I prefer these since I've been eating meat all week."
Damon calmly walked over to me, took the bag, and said, "Okay, let's recap. First, carbs: how many carbs are you allowed to eat, or rather, how much can you eat before getting blocked?"
I said, "Less than ten grams per kilo and no more than 50 grams per day."
He read from the packet, "These have 26 grams of carbs per 100 grams, and this is a 50-gram bag, so if you eat the whole thing, you'll get 13 grams of carbs. Now, are you really chewing them?"
I focused on chewing more thoroughly.
He continued reading, while May and the others listened, having not witnessed this in a long time, and possibly never. "Now, fats: there are 56 grams of fat here, with 13 grams of unsaturated fats. What about your fats; what do you need?"
Sheepishly, I replied, "Saturated, animal-based fats, food with over 65% saturated fats. Not unsaturated, as they hinder my cellular turnover."
He nodded and said, "Seven grams [of unsaturated fat] is enough for your system to rebel, meaning it's now using all those saturated fats, plus a little more, to bind the unsaturated ones. So you're not getting any fats from these."
I nodded. He didn't give me the bag back, but instead teleported it away somewhere. I refocused on boning my bone-in ribeye and cutting it into steaks, already thinking about what to snack on; I might have to cut this early since I needed something.
I had just had my semi-public lesson on eating whatever I wanted and its consequences. Damon could have been much harsher with his words; I knew that much.
After a short while, Damon said, "Come on, let's go get some snacks. You can show me your meaty snacks, and I can see if I can elevate them or something. And let's get you some more smoothies. You, too, Ella, you need to eat as well."
But to my surprise, Mariella said, "I'm not hungry; I'm nauseated and not in the mood for thick slurries full of seeds."
Damon's eyes flashed briefly, and Mariella rolled her eyes and muttered something. The girls were then ushered out of the meat locker, and I could already see several Salvatores walking in. It might be that I would have less work here, but then again, I had my crystals as well, and snakes too.
I never feared boredom from inactivity; there was always something to occupy my time. In the evenings, we would coordinate our heating, determining which fireplaces to light to adequately warm the necessary areas. Much of the warmth generated from burning trash was consumed almost immediately, especially considering the energy demands of the snake rooms.
This meant deciding who would occupy the living room or other specific rooms, and which wing of the house required heating, all guided by a detailed chart. Setting up our heating system was surprisingly enjoyable.
Later, I encountered Lily in the kitchen, where she announced, "I think, Mommy, I might go and get a hit from those geodes."
Damon, confused, asked, "What are you talking about?"
Lily explained, "Well, Daddy, as you might notice, Mommy was unloaded. We found these huge amethyst geodes and used them to store that energy. They're now dark pink, full of Mommy's special juice. We have quite a collection of full stones, and it gives a good buzz when I get a bit of that oomph."
Mariella interjected, "Really? But it's dangerous; it's freaking powerful stuff."
Even though he wasn't a pack leader, Damon spoke with considerable authority, quickly asserting himself as one.
"That stops," he declared. "No more just getting buzzed by it. I will discuss this with Charles and others to try and come up with a solution. As Mariella said, it might be dangerous and addictive, and now is not the time for that."
As I went to the fridge to select a snack—thinly sliced pieces of pork knuckles, crispy and not too heavy, as my stomach couldn't tolerate anything like wagyu right now—I also grabbed a bottle of Jaffa, an orange soda that seemed to soothe my tummy better than cola. However, as I turned around, Damon was right behind me, snatching the Jaffa from my grip and handing me an ice-cold bottle of orange juice with pulp.
"And what are these, pork, I believe?" he asked.
"Yeah, I can't eat wagyu yet, so at least this is meat," I replied.
He took the pork knuckles away from me and ushered me out, saying, "Go sit down. I'll collect stuff, and we'll see what works on you as well as on Mariella, so this is kind of a test kitchen. I need to see where we are. Wulfe says the potion takes time, as not all of the babies' powers are out yet."
I rolled my eyes, suspecting this was going to be a damn hard pregnancy. But what could I do? Not much, but I try my best, go with the flow, see where I end up, and hope Damon will find suitable snacks for me and Mariella, too. I was trying to think positively.
As I sipped my orange juice, I turned to Emmylee and said, "Do you know what it's like to be an unkillable rebel leader? I mean, I must admit, I haven't always been so noble and careful. I have, on occasion, given a few lessons here and there."
Emmylee raised her brow, just like Damon, Mariella pointed out. "Please, let's wait for Damon," she added, "I'm sure he'd like to hear this too."
I rolled my eyes; it was just one more little confession that had popped into my mind. Besides Emmylee and Mariella, there were other Salvatores present, as well as Lepard and Wulfe. Oh great, fine, I supposed I could share this; it was family after all, and at least they'd get something to laugh about. Once everyone was settled, Damon took Charles's usual spot next to me, as Charles wasn't home. Wulfe simply rolled his eyes.
"You were saying something about lessons you've given?" Mariella prompted.
With another eye roll, I launched into the story. "Yeah, well, I've been captured by vampires so freaking many times, and I've used my little trick to make myself seem like a mere meal to get free. But sometimes, I gave them a lesson. Meaning, a few months later, I'd send a card to them just to remind them that I'm alive. And oh my gosh, some of them..."
Damon frowned. "What do you mean? How did they react then?"
I sighed. "Well, one group was a bunch of arrogant bastards who burned my card and scoffed. I had my people doing a little surveillance, and these dolts made it sound like they knew I would wake up. They couldn't even remember me, or my name, or anything about me, but their egos were just so big."
Number Two nodded. "I know the type. Well, what else?"
I continued, "Well, the next group was obsessed. They chased me, even though they had no freaking clue who they were chasing. No memory of me, no pictures, no files, but they were looking for me, and they were easy to distract, boring really. And then there was the group that made me roll my eyes more than once."
"Well, out with it," Mariella urged. "Tell us. This is fun to listen to, these war stories."
I sighed again. "They were the ones who regretted it. Their regret somehow made them remember me, and oh my gosh, I might have gotten flower deliveries for like three months in a row, calls, them apologizing, swearing they'd changed and would never do anything like that again. It was exhausting! I was trying to plan an attack, and I was bombarded with these calls. Some of them even wrote poetry about me, some of them took an oath, and a few of them came to meet me, kneeling in front of me..."
Damon laughed. "Oh my God, your expressions must have been perfect!"
I rolled my eyes as I recalled those phone calls, letters, meetings, and desperate pleas. I'm pretty sure I won't ever do that again; it was too exhausting.
"Baby, if you ever do that again," Damon said, "please let me witness it. I want to see if there is some fool swearing to do better."
Lepard added, "And by the way, once this is all over, after these 13 years, I do want to see you recruit in the old-fashioned way. I have never seen it, but from what Adam has told me, it is quite a spectacle."
I rolled my eyes again. Demands were coming for me even after this whole thing was over. But fine, let's see what happens then. No one knows, right? Damon had brought me a selection of thinly sliced, cold meats, which I ate carefully.
Mariella excused herself halfway through, rushing to the toilet to puke; she just couldn't eat. I kept my pace very slow, which made Damon and Wulfe very worried.
"I suppose you are not gonna let me hook you on an IV, are you now, baby?" Damon asked.
I shook my head and said, "It's fine. Afternoon, then I can start to eat a little more again. It just takes time, and since this is new to my body, it is like this."
Damon furrowed his brows, still not happy. "Mariella has much better weight to fast than you do, my baby. You really should get something in you."
Number Five chimed in, "Well, I have given her dessert during the nights and tried to fill her up for mornings, but you know, she's a sex beast in bed. She is active, so despite what kind of bump I make, she eats it up."
I added, "And I can't drink the stuff; it makes the nausea worse."
Damon smiled. "Well, it is good we have an organic route then, but I need to test our stuff to see who feeds you and who takes care of Mariella."
I rolled my eyes. Sure, sex was fun, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to combine it with some medical science as well. I knew the analysis would take some time, and then they might have to eat certain things to make it even stronger.
But suddenly, Number One pulled me next to him, buried his nose in my neck, right over my pheromone glands, licked them, and nibbled them. Oh, he was going right to the source. He was dousing himself with my pheromones to get a real idea of what I was needing, while at the same time flooding me with his alpha pheromones so my body would start to use him, make him feed me, and make me the perfect bump.
Having returned from her trip to the restroom, Mariella remained silent, not at all jealous, as Ashley and Emmylee recounted to her the details of my crystals and stones, including how much I was asking for them. This also caught the attention of Number Two, who wanted to examine the stones I intended to sell and assess whether the prices were appropriate.
Meanwhile, Lily and Britney discussed the possibility of my opening an online shop, as well as my wire-wrapping plans, a topic that also engaged Number Three, Wulfe, and Lepard. Mariella then got up to get more coffee, attempting to soothe her stomach, which felt unsettled, as Number Four threatened to put her on an IV drip if she didn't drink something.
Finally, Mariella returned to her seat and sipped a small amount of coffee. While she remained pale and shaky, the Salvatores were not particularly concerned, as this was simply family life, representing a significant hurdle for me: becoming a constant part of the family and sharing activities with everyone.
But then May, much like Damon, said, "Mariella, have you ever even done a jigsaw puzzle? We have all of Mom's jigsaws here, as well as those diamond paintings and other crafting materials. She even has a jigsaw from one of their weddings, but it's not done, not even started."
Mariella responded with excitement, "Oh my gosh, that sounds like family fun, right, Wulfe?"
Wulfe nodded, adding, "We have machines; give me a picture and tell me how many pieces you want, and we can have a new jigsaw puzzle ready to assemble in three hours."
Mariella was thrilled, as she had never done anything like that before. It seemed she had rediscovered the joy of experiencing something for the first time, and now, everyone was incredibly eager to go and care for the snakes.
I had some reservations about this, as I had established a routine that I liked. Now, the entire group was threatening that routine, but I also recognized this as family, and it was time for me to continue learning that. The faster I adapted, the easier things would be, especially as my pregnancy progressed.
Furthermore, there was news that didn't particularly make me happy: Damon would not be going to work next week, but only after Thanksgiving. Mariella also planned to stay, as they all wanted to see my shop, go shopping, and plan for Thanksgiving and even Christmas. Wulfe was particularly enthusiastic about the Christmas planning.
Consequently, the next three days at work could be challenging if the entire group were constantly in my shop. However, I was planning to go to church tomorrow, and Mariella, along with the girls, wanted to come as well. I wasn't sure how many Salvatores would attend, as Number Five was unavailable, but the others hadn't yet made any indication.
My life was changing daily, and not just because of my pregnancy; it was the overall dynamic that was shifting. We had all made mistakes, especially the Salvatores, but they were moving on, choosing to learn from their errors instead of burying their heads in the sand.
Ironically, their attempts to improve things didn't necessarily align with my preferences. They were doing their best according to their own understanding, which now included two pregnant women with morning sickness who needed care, feeding, and, in their eyes, controlling.
The sight of me using a bandsaw, handling sharp knives, cutting meat, or simply being on my feet constantly, was not their idea of what a pregnant woman with morning sickness should be doing. Since I had to work, they decided that weekends should be for resting, not for housework. Consequently, I was suddenly inundated with a flood of "husband time," and Mariella was too. They were finally starting to grasp the situation, and, oh boy, did they have ideas.
One idea involved my bedroom. Number Five had apparently told the others how well sanctified it was. Mariella, however, wanted her bedroom somewhere other than the "mating wing," and Damon, Number One, wanted us to have bedrooms together—one for me and one for Mariella. Then, of course, the others wanted the same.
May commented sarcastically, "Soon, most of the rooms here will be bedrooms just for some Salvatore and for you, Mom, or for Mariella."
Damon just smirked, finding the idea quite appealing.
Number Two said to me, "Mimi, my love, I will have a bedroom for us, where we can talk, and I can try to be better than the shithead I was."
Mariella, equally eager, declared to Number Five, "You're coming with me and Number One, and we're going to talk. You will tell us about your trauma, and we will help you because it sounds like you have a load of shit in your head that no amount of fucking will erase until we address it."
This prompted Number Five to roll his eyes in a rather comical way.
So, this was our family now, learning to navigate this life and make it as perfect as possible. There was jealousy, a strong need to care for each other, lust, and love. However, I wasn't sure about anything at all, not in this moment. It was time to embrace each day as both an opportunity and a challenge.