Five days had passed. I sat in my knitting room, a space dedicated to my craft. I was working on a jacket and socks for the children to wear in the winter and autumn. Ashley, Lily, and Britney were with me, and we were chatting.
My playlist played softly in the background, prompting one or more of us to hum or sing quietly while we worked. Ashley, Lily, and Britney, however, were crocheting granny squares, planning to use them to make quilts. Life was fun. Today, the men wanted to spend time with the kids, so I agreed. If the children wanted to be with me, I wouldn't stop them, but the men were quite good at tiring them out and keeping them occupied.
As for food, Salvatore or others were occasionally in the kitchen preparing meals. However, we had no reserves, so we ate everything as it was made, often consuming a meal or two at a time. Unless someone wanted to spend days in the kitchen making reserves, it wasn't easy.
Number one had been confident they could soon prepare many ready-made plates for us all, but it wasn't happening. In the past, with plates always ready, not all of us had been around all the time, eating several times a day, so food had gone at a slower pace. But now, we eat five meals per day. Twenty-five adults plus eight toddlers gave Damon a good lesson, and there were other things to consider, too.
May asked me, "Mom, what are you planning this evening? We'll have pizza night and movies."
I smiled and replied, "I'll do some paperwork. I need to check my shop's inventory and see what else needs doing."
Ashley noticed something in my expression and asked, "What is it? You have something else on your mind. Come on, tell us."
I smiled and said, "It's just a potential new order. I need to see if I can make it work."
The door opened, and Damon, number one, stepped in, irritated.
He asked me tersely, "Mimi, are you planning to do laundry anytime soon? I'm out of clothes."
I said calmly, "Go put a load in the machine; it shouldn't be too hard for you. Besides, I did my laundry yesterday, so I'm fine."
He harrumphed and said, "Yeah, well, the bedding needs to be changed too."
I rolled my eyes and said, "What are you rambling about? Go change your bedding and put a load in the machine. Remember, no timetable, no responsibilities means everyone takes care of their own laundry unless they've talked with others and made arrangements." My voice was cool.
"Well, bloody hell, I have no time! I'm either making food for this damn pack or up to my neck in paperwork," Damon snapped. "So, if you, dear wife, could please take care of the laundry and bedding, I would be most grateful,"
I replied calmly, standing up. "Come on, let's go. I'll show you how it's done, and we'll time it too."
His brows furrowed; he was still pissed off that his cocksure plan was falling apart. I led him to his bedroom.
"Go on," I said, handing him a laundry sack. "Take the bedding off. It's not hard."
He looked at me but obeyed, stripping the bed bare and dropping the full sack into the laundry chute.
Next, I took him to the bedding storage. "Go on, take a new set. Here are the used and washed ones, and here are the new ones. So, choose."
He furrowed his brow but plucked a stack of used ones – pillowcases, sheets, and duvet covers. He was still confused. I led him back to his bedroom.
"Put them back," I instructed. "It's not hard."
He worked fast and efficiently, making the bed.
"Fine," I said. "See? Not hard. Now, laundry."
I led him to the laundry room and again made him load a bigger machine with his clothes and bedding and set it. It was a drying machine, so it would take time, but we had time.
As we were still standing in the laundry room, I said, "See, it took less than an hour to get this done. Instead of coming to me whining like a child for me to do things for you, this is family life, Damon, not me doing things for you. Learn some initiative. You can surely do laundry and change bedding; it's not hard."
He said, "Fine, I can do them. Sorry to bother you. Next time, I know better, no need for you to strain yourself."
I just walked out of the laundry room back to my knitting and listening to music.
May asked as I returned, "You really made him do those things himself? Why?"
I said, "Call it learning, for him and for me. You know, kids are growing, and soon that 'need to do things themselves' is starting to come, and then I have to learn to let them do things themselves, not me doing things for them. And for Damon, it's time for him to wake up, act, and not talk. It's a lesson for him too."
Ashley smiled, and Lily said, "You have quite a set of balls. I was sure you would do them for him, as you are tired of listening to him whine."
I just commented, "Glad I can surprise even you. Again, it's time for him to act, not expect everyone to worship him."
A few hours later, Adam announced that the meal was ready, and the toddlers were already eating with Salvatore's help. His smirk was telling; I knew my five kids were likely giving my husband a run for his money. As we rose and walked to the kitchen, I was surprised to see Number One trying to coax Seraphina to eat.
She, however, was focused on either removing her bib or playing with her food, causing Damon to sigh impatiently. It wasn't easy to get these kids to eat, with so much stimulation in the kitchen and everything seeming so much fun.
I started to sit down, but Damon said, "Wait a minute, I'll bring your food soon; we can eat together, new table setting and all."
I rolled my eyes; it seemed he had once again positioned himself next to me. Fine. I noticed that each girl had their hair fixed, even for Sadie, whose ponytails were still intact, which was a surprise.
Number One simply commented, "Minor spell, she's mad at me, but at least she's not getting it everywhere. I know how to deal with naughty girls."
He had a smirk on his face. Oh really? He'd changed his tune, I see. Fine. I hoped he wasn't in seduction mode, as I had plans for tonight: a few movies with my new massaging mattress, which I'd gotten for myself.
Somehow, my body felt so tired, and I felt like I was moving too fast, even though I'd tried to keep my day relaxed. Maybe it was some kind of backlash, like my body was giving itself permission to feel the strain. Hell, how would I know? My body could be weird, to say the least.
As I ate, my mind wandered, as it often did, back to old memories. I recalled my trip to Finland long ago, when I had desperately tried to feel something, only to find myself numb. Today, thankfully, the numbness was gone. Perhaps if the opportunity arose, with a new trip there, I might actually feel something. But then again, I would likely be surrounded by others.
Another place I hoped to visit one day was Africa. The Joy Adamson books were still a huge influence, and I longed to see that gravesite again, perhaps with Wulfe and the pack. That might offer a new perspective, though I wasn't certain.
I had come a long way, even though it sometimes felt as if I remained unchanged. My life had undergone many significant turns and shifts, even recently, and these had undoubtedly changed me. I was simply stubborn, unwilling to admit to myself just how far I had come. Maybe it was nostalgia, a desire for something to remain constant, or perhaps a fear of change. Or maybe it was all of those things combined.
However, my thoughts were interrupted when Damon sat beside me.
He hissed, "Change the subject, or take a nap. This isn't the time for a philosophy lesson about whether you've changed or not. I'm not in a patient mood, and I don't want to listen to your endless pondering as your thoughts flood my mind."
I raised my eyebrows, then sent him a carefully curated collection of descriptive words, detailing his anatomy and possible connections to goats and other ungulates. I was frustrated by his petty complaints about my mental state and what I was thinking.
Or perhaps I should begin a comparative analysis to determine which Salvatore had made me explode with the most force. I'd then see what this idiot next to me liked.
His calm, smug voice echoed in my mind: "Oh, baby, try me. I will show you what happens when you seduce me. Oh, please, do it, start comparing so I can unleash my might with this skill."
Fine, not that either. I had my own plans, and I was no Mariella, unwilling to spend days with my legs spread, being fucked out of my mind. Somehow, my libido wasn't as roaring as usual, but my mind was brimming with creative expressions.
I was simply eating my meal, reminiscing about my history, my past, all the times with fleas. There was still so much in my past that even Adam didn't know.
I was utterly lost in thought when the seductive voice of Number One, smugly, next to me, said, "Now, this is fun. I get to live with all this with you. Oh, so please, share; it is very informative."
I said aloud, "Ancient history. I am hardly the same creature, literally, as I am today. I guess the thing that has always kept me isolated has been my past, my other life, and my reluctance to share. Not even Wulfe knows maybe a percentage of my past, and most of the time, not that special. But with my memory, nothing is forgotten, and the past can be bittersweet from time to time, but I try to learn to move on and not be too melancholic as I recall my so-called good times with fleas."
Number Seven, who was also eating, said, "Melancholy isn't a bad thing to have; it just shows you had an emotional connection to that time, and it helps us to know you better. As you know, the past is a pretty fucking important thing that shapes us, not that we always want it. But at least I've learned, or I'm in the process of learning, to see things from another perspective. I mean, instead of feeling shitty about all of my female adventures, I've taken them as lessons. You see, baby, each woman taught me to be a better seducer, more dominant; every woman gave me a few more tools to deal with you and our family, and somehow, I realized it was all meant to be."
Number One raised his gaze, looking at a version of himself. Number Seven, in the past, had enjoyed singing, humming, and seducing. Number One, however, was perhaps the most rigid, the most dominant, but also the most self-critical. His tendency for self-reproach had often plunged him into a funk, impacting our relationship even today.
He was also learning new things here, benefiting from hearing and listening to the others, their impressions, and thoughts about themselves and their past. This was a lesson for all of the Salvatores, of whom there were ten.
Each was unique, an individual, yet every one, or a part of them, had been with me throughout our colorful, brutal, wretched past. Love, lust, pain, and countless other emotions had tossed us about like boats in a storm, unable to stop the hurt, unable to trust our love, sometimes unable to move on, and sometimes, unable to stop hurting each other.
And here we were, through centuries, at least a few of them, a family, with kids, eating at the same table. It was still a damn big mess, but then again, this was us, the Salvatores. Number One, Seven, and a few others were engaged in some form of telepathic discussion. I could feel it in our hive, our hivemind, a pack thing.
Yet, by fate, by irony, and by fucking divine intervention, of course, I was the strongest of us, the hive queen. I knew so much about our hive, and again, this was just one thing meant to be. I recalled a small prophecy about me, a weird one I had never understood until now.
Wulfe walked into the kitchen, sat down, and said aloud, "Share it, will you? I know they're in the past, but it's fun to hear them sometimes, and they give us ideas."
"It's just a snippet," I said, rolling my eyes. "I was never even sure if it was about me, not even when Mariella was involved; at one point, I thought it was about her. But fine, here goes: 'Queen of lust and blood shall have a web, she will have all those that she can sense, She shall rise with wings of lust, love and blood, and through truest bond, power is born what sets them all free to have a life for fulfillment.' I never understood it, and I twisted it in my mind, but it never quite fit any theory I came up with. I always thought it was about Mariella and her influence over you. I guess that was one thing that stopped me from pursuing you too much, as I thought it was meant to be that she would have you. But then again, I guess it was about me." My voice dripped with sarcasm.
It felt like every damn prophecy I found was about me, my fate, my duty, and what a special creature I was. It was exhausting, I had to admit, and it put me under pressure.
I continued eating my meal in silence while Salvatores and Wulfe discussed something telepathically. I let them. The future was ours, and it was nothing more than what we made it. No more fate, no more prophecies. Or, if there were, I chose to ignore them and take one day at a time.
I watched my toddlers having fun with their food, but they were also hungry. Eating was fun for them, especially since Salvatores knew how to cook. It had been a bit hit-or-miss finding the perfect food for them – something nutritionally solid but also tasty and something they actually wanted to eat.
I knew that the time for some fussy eating might be ahead of us, but I had a secret for that. I wasn't planning to talk about it, but my pheromones could help. It wasn't too hard for me to whip up a little something that might spur their hunger and make them eat despite their fussiness. I had my weapons, so to speak, and I was ready to use them as well.