It was 2 AM, and I wasn't sleeping. I'd gotten home at six, found a meal in the fridge waiting to be warmed up, but no bath and no warm welcome. I was too exhausted to care, though. This was a hormonal time for both Mariella and me. She had been smug, expecting me to explode. When I didn't, she was disappointed and took it out on Damon. Adam and Wulfe, already in a sharp mood, had gone to the gym to release some aggression and tire Mariella out, hoping it would calm her down.
My hormones were making me overthink everything, but I kept it hidden. I wasn't going into full-blown neurosis, but questions were swirling in my mind. I wasn't in the mood for a movie. The girls were watching a marathon of some TV show, a true-life series about the Kardashians – an ancient show, but suitable for them.
Most of the Salvatore's had been watching sports, and in the evening, they had gone into the kitchen to cook for the day, as there was still so much to do. The girls had wanted to cook, too, but there's only so much room in the kitchen. I wanted some time to myself, so I walked silently through the dim hallways of the third floor until I reached the door where I'd scribbled "Crafts and Stones."
It was a good time to try the wrapping, to see how hard it was, and then start making something. I knew this was a skill that would only improve with practice, so I needed to start. I wasn't in the mood for advice or company. I had heard Charles and Lepard had arrived half an hour ago, exhausted, and gone straight to bed. They had very little time to sleep, as it was Thanksgiving.
I opened the door and stepped inside, flicking the switch to illuminate the room with soft light. The light blue or grey wallpaper, adorned with tiny white flowers with pink stems and light green leaves, gave the room an old-fashioned charm. The off-white, thick curtains, longer than the windows and hanging in heavy folds, added a stylish touch. Dark pink rugs with golden swirls provided a luxurious glow, feeling soft under my bare feet.
The room was cool, as it wasn't heated, but a white fireplace had wood prepared, ready for me to light. I wasn't sure if I wanted to warm it, since I liked the coolness, but I also considered the potential energy expenditure, worrying that I would lose weight instead of gaining it and attract the ire of concerned husbands.
I turned on the tall lamp near one of the sinking chairs on one side of the room, and next to it, I found a suitable small table, perfect for practicing my wire-wrapping skills. I walked to a cabinet, retrieving a large box labeled "wire wrapping tools, and wires." I also grabbed a small box filled with medium-sized, tumbled stones, uniform in shape and easy to manipulate. Perfect.
I then grabbed my tablet, where I had downloaded instructions and orders on how to create these items, though there was also a stack of printed papers. I decided to keep it simple and thought the tablet might be easier to handle.
Two hours later, I was seething with frustration. The loop was once again too loose, and my base wrapping was imperfect. I sighed, placed the failed attempt on the table, and reached for another spool of wire. The door opened, and number six entered, pausing in the doorway to listen to my frustrated monologue.
He asked, "What is pissing you off so much, and why are you doing this?"
"I'm just practicing my skills," I told him, rolling my eyes. "And I'm getting really frustrated because I'm not good at this. It's pregnancy brain, not your problem. Fair warning: things might get even crazier with me."
He looked at me and asked, "Tell me what's going on. You're all tense and bundled up. We could have a nice, long massage session in the bedroom, baby..."
His voice was lower, with a seductive tone, but I wasn't in the mood. My pussy was dry, itchy, and I definitely didn't want to have sex.
"Did you know I told Mariella I won because I have more babies than her? She got all emotional and cried, but I made it worse. Ah, never mind. Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I'm as dry as the Sahara. My libido is down, and I get pissed off really easily, for no reason."
He smiled, leaned back in his chair, and said, "Tell me more. I love hearing about your pregnancy brain. It's hilarious, especially when I get to witness the two of you."
I rolled my eyes again. "Well, I booked my first appointment for Tuesday, and Damon can't make it because it's the middle of the day. Mariella's is on Thursday. Damon can go to hers, but I made Mariella cry for a few hours because I told her I had to see my babies first, hear their heartbeats, and that I won again."
Number Six burst out laughing, genuinely amused, as if it were the joke of the century. And maybe it was. But at the same time, what the fuck was left of our lives after this damn pregnancy? I was pretty sure these would be the only children we would have. Maybe Mariella, unless she did the impossible, might have some more. But for me, I doubted Damon would knock me up again. I grabbed another spool of wire and sighed.
Number Six said, "Oh, let me try too."
I showed him how, letting him choose the wires. We began to try wire wrapping. To my surprise, a string of cuss words came from his mouth. He also had a loose grip, and the wrapping didn't go perfectly. His hands were skilled, but not as nimble as Number One or Three.
He slammed his version onto the table and said, "This damn wire is impossible to work with. I have no freaking idea how the hell it's supposed to be done."
He was impatient, much like Number one, but he lacked the muscle memory and deft grip required. Having done little crafting, if any, over a century, or possibly much longer, the memories of others didn't help.
"I think I'll go see Mariella," he said to me. "She could do some relaxation. This damn wire wrapping has pissed me off."
I nodded, neither surprised nor disappointed. He still preferred carnal pleasures, and my pussy remained stubbornly dry, as it had been. That was fine; I could manage. Forty-five minutes later, number eight arrived. The same thing happened: he tried to get some action, and when I wasn't in the mood, he was curious enough to try wire wrapping. Again, it wasn't his thing, and soon Mariella occupied his mind.
I continued practicing simple techniques, repeating the first step over and over until I improved. Just as I became satisfied, it was already 7:30 am, breakfast time, but I could continue afterward. It would take time and a hell of a lot of nerves to become good at this, but the feeling of getting something right was unlike anything else. However, my life wouldn't be steady, not at all.
As I went to the kitchen for breakfast, numbers five and seven were already making food. Seven hummed quietly as usual. I walked to the cabinet to choose my coffee, and neither of them paid any attention to me, still busy with their Thanksgiving preparations.
I was lost in thought about everyday problems, my future, and finances. I got my coffee ready and walked to the fridge to select something to eat, not too much, but something. Hmm, I had little crustades, crispy shells filled with salmon paste, liver mousse, and tallow. Perfect; they would give me a boost, and then I could take my vitamins in jelly form. I'd discovered that jelly made of orange juice and berries was easier for me to swallow than a thick smoothie, so I had those reserved as well.
As I was piling my food onto the tray, number seven, coming to collect ingredients, said, "Oh, that's too bad about your nausea. Well, Wulfe said it might take some time for the potion to be fully ready. There's no use making you drink something that doesn't work for you, or for those five inside you."
I grunted, then said, "I'm fine. I just have so many things on my mind, so much to check out and decide. Damon should maybe be part of those decisions, but then again, I know his choice is Mariella, and it leaves me hanging – complicated."
Seven asked, "What are you talking about? I'm not sure I follow."
I replied, "It's just a question of insurance, really. I know most work insurances allow you to include babies, but there are limitations on how many family members you can add. Meaning he'll put Mariella and his babies first, as Mariella's insurance isn't that great. And that leaves me hanging. Basically, Charles or any of you could take me, but will he allow it? And what about your insurances? Will they require full paternity to your names, or can it be partial? My premiums are already high, and if I have to include my babies, they'll be astronomical."
Number Seven responded, "I have no fucking clue, and I can't really help you out. Like I said, maybe talk to Number One at some point and see what he thinks. You have time."
I snapped, "When don't I? I need this to happen sooner rather than later. I know that as soon as I have my scan, five babies will put me at maternity risk, and it will raise my premiums right away. It will also mean extra scans, examinations, and more paperwork. I just don't have time to wait around and see what Damon thinks."
Number Seven raised his hands and said, "Whoa, calm down, no need to attack me. Just take it easy, talk to him. You have days, it's a holiday now. Easy."
He walked out of the fridge quite fast, leaving me seething once again, my hormones making my mind so damn irritable. Now, even his humming irked me like shit. I focused on my breakfast and tried to eat, but suddenly, my little treats tasted like shit as my irritation flared up. I took one of the little croustades and threw it into the wall, got up, and marched into the gym.
Fuck everyone. I needed to blow off some steam. I didn't even change my clothes as I started to hit and kick the nearest object, as hard and fast as I could, because I was so damn pissed off at the whole damn world, the whole damn pack, when everything seemed to be going straight to hell, and nothing worked.
My mood shifted abruptly, as if a button had been pressed. Disgusted with myself, I went to take a shower. After getting dressed, I walked like a robot to the room where Charles was still asleep, exhausted. I curled up beside him and began to cry, though I didn't know why. I clung to him, a drowning person grasping a life raft, tears streaming down my face. I sobbed and shook, but Charles remained asleep, and this lack of response only intensified my tears.
Finally, Charles woke up as the sunlight hit his eyes. He groaned, still weary from sleep, but it was Thanksgiving, so he figured he could manage to stay awake for a while. Perhaps he could sleep later that night or the next day.
He rolled onto his back, trying to remember his dream. His first wife, Anna, had been in it. They had fought, as they always did in his dreams, always about the fae baby, always with Anna accusing him of prioritizing his morality over hers.
But this time, there wasn't the usual horrific ending: no corpse-like Anna holding the murdered fae child and walking toward him, accusing him, along with all the other victims he had killed. Instead, Anna was just sad. She came into his arms and cried against him for a long time, and he couldn't make it stop.
Charles furrowed his brow, knowing his subconscious was trying to tell him something, but there was no big revelation this time as to why he had seen that dream. He was alone in his bed, and his shirt felt slightly damp, but this was nothing new; he usually woke up drenched in sweat after those dreams featuring Anna.
Charles finally got up and went to the bathroom to shower and prepare for Thanksgiving. He knew, just as the other Salvatores did, that there might be tension and discussions about the pack leadership.
He knew Damon had a long history as a leader, but that history was far from perfect, filled with mistakes. Sometimes it felt like Damon hadn't learned anything, but then again, there were times of clear growth. Charles pondered this as he soaped his strong body and washed his long hair, feeling a hint of bloodlust beginning to tingle behind his eyes.
He could go to the blood room and drink from a jug, but sinking his fangs into a vein and draining directly brought a pleasure he couldn't get from the jug, no matter how strong the blood.
He thought about the future, about Mimi, and about the whole pack. He knew there would be variables he might not be able to see or handle in time, but they would face them together, not out of nobility, but because they were a pack. While he, like most of the pack, was a lion by base species, Mimi was a jaguar, a loner. So were her girls.
As Charles started counting, Mimi, Demon, Lepard, and Mimi's girls made seven who weren't lions. Then there were the babies inside Mimi, also not lions. In a few years, the pack wouldn't be just lions and a few others; the balance would shift.
This made Charles ponder another question: If Damon was Mimi's perfect biological half, not a sibling but a missing piece, would it make him a jaguar too? Were they any more just lions, or a fluid species that had no name yet?
There were also a lot of everyday things to be done. Since he was going home for the next two weeks, he could get started. He would check on Mimi's insurance and see if he could find a better one, as hers was obscenely expensive. Since she was pregnant, it was the only supernatural insurance for the self-employed that covered pregnancy and maternity care.
Mimi was Charles's priority, no question about it. He would also be around her shop, as he knew he had orders for his bouquets. While he was caring for his wife, Damon and the other Salvatores might be jealous, as they were husbands too.
Being a multishifter vampire hybrid, or as Mimi put it, a chimera, wasn't easy or always enjoyable. However, this new species presented insurance companies with an opportunity to increase profits. With so many exceptions in their policies – insurance companies weren't charities – they were unsure of the new species' needs. They mitigated this risk by excluding many things or requiring several years of premium payments before claims could be made.
Consequently, employers were cautious, as policies for these individuals were more expensive than for humans. Despite his reputation, Charles knew his boss wasn't pleased, as his insurance cost 20% more than other drivers. This could lead to them being fired, making it difficult to find another job. For now, though, they had jobs, and Charles hoped they could keep them.
It was Thanksgiving, and Charles was eager to start his day, despite the many thoughts swirling in his mind. He was ready to be pack leader, husband, and alpha male, completely unaware of Mimi's emotional turmoil, or her and Mariella's bickering. Soon, however, he would face the reality of being in a family with two pregnant, highly emotional, supernatural females, and several males as well. It would be something else entirely.