It was already Wednesday, and I was feeling the effects. I had been swamped at work and impossible at home. I couldn't help it. On Tuesday, I had thrown a tantrum because Damon had driven Mariella home and hadn't prepared my bath, and Adam hadn't been at the door to welcome me. My hormones were all over the place.
The funny thing was, I was in a great mood at work, but when I got home, I got angry, and I had no idea why. It wasn't pheromones, at least I knew that, it was just my hormones.
Mariella, being emotional as she was, couldn't take my tantrums and ran away crying. I was mean, snapping at her about everything, boasting about how much better a mother I would be than she was. I didn't let Damon near her. Instead, I demanded Damon for myself, wanting him to sleep with me, not to have sex, because my pussy was dry. I just wanted him to hold me, keep me safe, and not go to Mariella.
As we woke up around the same time, Mariella would wake up later, and I got to have him. Too bad he had to drive the opposite direction of my shop. Otherwise, I would have made him drive home too. But my mood fluctuated, and when I got home on Tuesday and Damon had been ready to be with me, nope, not this time, and I screamed at him to leave me alone.
He would not be in my scan next week, so he got mad, and we shouted at each other for 30 minutes at the top of our lungs before I marched to my room and slammed the door shut, seething. I felt like I was stinking of sweat and took a few showers in the evening after getting home.
But now, after today, it would be Thanksgiving, a little holiday for us all, and I rolled my eyes as I thought of the future tantrums I would have. Oh my God, when Charles would see me. Wulfe hadn't interfered; he had just smirked at my moods and walked away, which had pissed me off again.
The door chimed, signaling more customers as I was arranging tall red roses in water, ready for sale. I had just brewed a fresh pot of coffee and arranged my baked goods on a tray. My selection of stones was also on display, and I had recently received some orchids and additional cut flowers from a wholesaler, ensuring a variety of materials.
Turning around, I saw a tall man with sandy hair that flopped a bit, gentle brown eyes, a pleasant mouth, and strong hands. He was wearing a leather jacket with fur trim and work pants, and he appeared to be in good condition.
"Hello, I'm looking for flowers for a Thanksgiving table; I hope I'm not too late," he asked.
I smiled and replied, "Not at all! What did you have in mind? I have some pre-made bouquets, or I can create something custom."
His gaze drifted over my body. I was wearing pink, tight jeans, modest black heels, and a tight, light yellow tee shirt, and I hadn't yet put on my apron. I hadn't gained any weight yet, so my toned body was visible, and I wasn't wearing a bra.
"Well, I have a few friends, guys, coming over, and some of them have families, as well as my brothers. They seem to view me as someone with no taste or style, so I want to make a statement," he explained.
I smiled at him. As the clock was well past four, I knew Damon would have finished work at three, Mariella even earlier. I had driven myself to work, so I wasn't expecting anyone.
The man stepped closer as I retrieved my folder of pictures to show him. His aftershave smelled clean and pleasant, with a hint of soap. Of course, I failed to notice my telepathic husband, Damon, plugging into my mind, observing my thoughts about a complete stranger. I was also hormonal.
Damon, in turn, was feeling the same possessiveness as I was, and he was seething as he drove to the shop with Mariella.
Mariella noticed his irritation and asked, "Damon, what's wrong? Why are you suddenly angry?"
Damon clenched his jaw and hooked Mariella into Mimi's mind, showing her Mimi presenting a flower arrangement to a total stranger, noticing his scent, his body, and his facial features.
Mariella rolled her eyes, thinking, "Really, Mimi is all over the place," and suggested it might be a good time for them to go check on her at the flower shop.
Mariella's hormones were raging, not with possessiveness over Damon, but with a strange desire for him and Mimi to be together. She couldn't explain the source of this notion, but the thought of Mimi with Wulfe or any other Salvatore made her irritable.
She envisioned Damon holding Mimi, cooing at her, a scene that prompted Mariella to shake her head and place a hand on her belly, silently willing her babies to stop sending these intrusive thoughts. Her emotions were a rollercoaster; one minute she doubted her abilities, questioning if she could even handle her work, the next, the work felt like an insult. This uncertainty extended to her impending motherhood.
She sat in the car, basking in the warmth and the lingering scent of a new vehicle as it effortlessly glided along the snowy road. Damon's hands, she thought, should be holding Mimi. He gripped the wheel with a casualness that made the car seem an extension of his will.
Suddenly, a naughty, carnal idea seized Mariella: to delve into Damon's pants while he was driving, offering him the blowjob of his life. "Oh my god," she thought, "I am impossible! I can't do that; he'll drive into a ditch!"
Damon, oblivious to his wife's internal turmoil, was focused on getting to the shop and then, hopefully, seeing Mimi. However, since Mimi had driven herself to work, she'd also have to drive herself home.
Finally, after the shopping was done, Damon was eager to head home. Mariella's erratic thoughts had exhausted him. While the ER was quiet, he still had administrative tasks to improve the workflow, and such changes always took time. Problems were constant, and he looked forward to a peaceful week.
He shook his head, pondering how he could possibly work all the time; it was incredibly difficult. The shopping trip had also been challenging, fueled by Mariella's cravings. His patience had worn thin, and he'd nearly shouted at her, but he knew he couldn't risk looking like a crazy man yelling at his pregnant wife during her cravings.
Mariella had tried to suck him off in the shop three times, but he had to refuse; the shop was relatively small, and he didn't want to get caught. Nonetheless, Mariella insisted they go and see Mimi, as that guy was still there. Their shopping trip had been quick, as not much was needed, and now, Damon thought tiredly, he would have to control his raging jealousy and not make things difficult for Mimi. Life wasn't as simple and easy as it had been a few months prior.
I was making an arrangement for Richard when the door opened, and Damon and Mariella walked in. Both looked a little surprised by my shop, and Mariella examined everything with her mouth open.
Richard just turned around, noticed my eye roll, and leaned closer, asking, "Are those your...?"
I nodded, "My first husband, and his other wife, yep, haven't been here yet."
Richard smiled slightly and said, "Now what do you usually do on Thanksgiving? I mean, my sister and her snobby husband look down on me and my buddies as we go watch TV, but the match is important, they are so snobby."
I replied, "I don't watch sports; it's not my thing."
He fell silent. Suddenly, Damon had walked near and introduced himself to Richard and then talked about sports, moving away from me. At first, I thought it was just Damon's way of getting Richard off my back, but I felt no jealousy through our bond. He was just chatting with him about sports, which was irritating. Mariella was checking out my crystals and my coffee.
I had almost finished the arrangement when Mariella walked closer and said, "Wow, this place is wonderful; it must be fun to work here, all of these plants."
I rolled my eyes, unsure what to say, as Richard was a customer.
Mariella looked at my arrangement and said, "I mean, I haven't done those too many, maybe I should, and I could work with you here."
Oh my god, never. Somehow, the mere idea of her spending all day with me seemed repulsive and difficult, and I didn't want it, not sure why. It was probably, once again, my lovely hormones doing the talking. As I had just gotten the arrangement done, Richard walked near and praised it.
I said, "I give you care orders, printed ones, so this should last a week or more."
Damon smirked and said to Richard, "Let me do one better."
As he walked closer, he focused on the arrangement. A soft, warm glow emanated from his palms, surrounding it. In a few moments, he looked smug.
"No need for care instructions. I've put a spell on it that will keep it pristine for three weeks. So go ahead, baby, wrap it up so Richard can go and prepare."
Richard smiled, shook Damon's hand again, and said, "I'll try that sauce you told me about. My turkey is always dry, so let's see if it works."
I wrapped the arrangement, put a plant food satchel in there, and Richard paid for his order. As he was leaving for the door, Sheila and I assumed the man walking near her was now her husband, Harold.
Sheila's sharp eyes saw Mariella. She had been in church on Sunday too, but they hadn't chatted.
Sheila walked up to me. "Hello dear, we need a few bouquets, could you do them?"
"Sure, what do you need?" I replied.
Harold was walking around, checking out the flowers, when Mariella went to him and introduced herself. Damon, on the other hand, walked near me and looked at Sheila, seemingly assessing her. Then, he moved to Mariella, wrapping his arm around her as if Harold were a threat.
Sheila said, "He's a quiet one, not too bad looking, but I like more number five; he's more animated. This one seems so tense."
I said in a low voice, though I was sure Damon might hear it, "Careful there, Damon. Well, if he wants you to see him, fall for him; not even a 90-year-old virgin nun could stop herself."
Sheila giggled and said, "Are you sure those nuns are quite..."
I said in an even quieter voice, but Damon had turned his head towards us, and he was watching with a slight smirk on his lips, "Older the better, he used to go to monasteries, and there wasn't a virgin left."
Sheila smiled more, and she said, "About those bouquets, I need one yellow and orange, one white and light blue, one green and cold, and one red and white, romantic. My grandkid has just gotten engaged, and I wanted our table to have symbols of things we are grateful for."
"Excuse me, let me help you out, baby," Damon said, materializing directly behind me.
He then pushed me aside with a dangerous smile directed at Sheila, his gaze seductive. Mariella raised her eyebrows.
I responded, "I'll start on those for you. Were they button carnations and roses, with no lilies?"
She nodded, now captivated by Damon, who was speaking to her in a low, intimate voice.
Mariella approached me and exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, I want to spend time here someday! Come on, teach me what we're doing."
I showed her Charles's orders, explaining how to price my creations. She began reading and studying them. Damon was still talking with Sheila, and Harold had also drawn closer. I rolled my eyes and began working on the next bouquet.
After I finished the first one, Sheila and Harold excused themselves to get coffee and eat cake while I arranged my bouquets. Damon wandered through my shop, inspecting the prices and the plants, seemingly assessing their health. He had a way of knowing things, and I hoped he wouldn't try to coax my flowers into blooming just to collect their seeds. He could literally seduce a flower to bloom, fertilize it and make it have seeds. He was a lust wizard, and all living things could be seduced.
I continued working on my bouquets as he walked past me. Mariella was showing him Charles's orders, and he was examining my delivery orders to see how much I had paid for them. I focused on my work as he sat down, still poring over the lists with a furrowed brow.
Sheila approached me and said, "I see what you mean. He is a charmer, but he cares about you, very much so."
Mariella chimed in, "Oh, Damon loves Mimi! You should see him tease her; they're so cute together, with her sitting on his lap. They're so in love."
I rolled my eyes. I wasn't in the mood to be madly in love with Damon.
While I worked, Sheila chatted with me, and I felt Damon's presence behind me, like a persistent cloud. I wasn't sure what he was planning, but perhaps it was time to distract him.
I sent a message to Mariella via the hive, "Why don't you take Damon home, along with your groceries? I'll be here for hours, so you'll have time to cook."
Mariella pursed her lips. "Fine, let's up the ante," I added, "and could you check on the eggs? I think there might soon be some little snakes. I'll be home so late I might not have the energy."
She considered this and went to speak to Damon. I assumed their conversation was mostly telepathic, but they spoke a few sentences aloud for the sake of normalcy. It sounded a little clunky if you weren't aware of our telepathic connection, but neither Sheila nor Harold seemed to mind.
As I added more stems to the bouquet, I could feel it taking shape in my hand. Sheila had briefed me on the budget that she and Harold were working with, so I knew exactly how much to use to make it as eye-catching as possible while staying within the limits. After only a few weeks, I was getting the hang of it and actually enjoying myself. My mood shifted rapidly, and I wasn't sure how I would feel or react.
My shop was charming, filled with natural light and a color scheme of light green, white, and grey, with pink accents. Even though the tables were more functional than aesthetically pleasing, I had arranged my potted plants as attractively as I could. In the back, an area off-limits to clients, I was cultivating plants for Christmas, anticipating a busy season. I hoped my employees would remain focused on their tasks and wouldn't try to interfere.
Just as I finished the third bouquet, Damon said, "Listen, baby, I'll take Mariella and our groceries home, but I could come back; I'm free now."
"Go ahead," I replied. "No need for you to come back. As you can see, there's not much left to do here, and I can manage. Besides, I have my car."
My hormone-fueled brain then decided to be a little demanding. "Just make sure the yard is cleared of snow. I want a hot meal waiting for me, and a bath would be nice, too. Also, my slippers, where they should be."
Damon was silent, grunting softly as I asserted my pack-leader status, ordering him around. He moved away, gritting his teeth. Mariella was still chatting with Harold as Damon pulled her with him. Soon, the shop door chimed as they left for home.
"Oh, perfect, just so damn perfect," I thought to myself.
My hormone-addled brain was smug, and a small voice inside me tried to speak, but my hormones silenced it. This pregnancy was going to be a rollercoaster.