I was busy arranging my flower room, which had unexpectedly become quite full due to a surprise flower delivery. Just a few hours prior, the delivery driver had opened the van door, and to my astonishment, the container was bursting with flowers.
He explained, "I've had a bit of a snafu. One of my clients couldn't take these because their coolers were broken by the winds, and they simply had no space. Since most of these were imported, they won't last. Honestly, I'm a bit ashamed, but you're my last client. After this, I have to inform what I have left to the vendors. They might want them returned, but since it's Friday, they'll likely tell me to ditch them and they'll claim the insurance losses. So, I can offer these very cheaply; I'm not making any profit, but it would be a shame to waste them."
I remained silent for a moment before hopping into the container. It was indeed full of roses, peonies, carnations, greenery, exotic flowers, and grasses – so many species I hadn't ordered before. Fortunately, I had some extra money, so we struck a deal.
Suddenly, I had a multitude of new plants to work with. The driver helped me push all the trolleys into my flower room. Though it was a large space, it was now completely full, and I had a significant amount of work ahead of me. I needed to get most of these flowers out of the trolleys and into water, then decide on prices, and perhaps even create a few arrangements in the meantime. Oh my goodness, I had so many plants!
My flower room, essentially one large space, was already cluttered with buckets and trays brimming with flowers and ribbons. Shelving units overflowed with glassware, including a few crystal vases for special arrangements. Rolls of packing materials, small cards for personal messages, a computer, my phone, and several stools and chairs were scattered throughout.
However, the room had become even more packed, now filled with racks of boxed flowers awaiting unpacking and preparation. The air was thick with an extraordinary scent, a potent blend of so many fragrant flowers and greenery. Despite the abundance, I hadn't yet completed a full inventory of everything I possessed.
Meanwhile, we had already planned a camping trip for the toddlers' second birthday. This involved a weekend excursion with other families and children, which would be incredibly beneficial for the little ones to see and interact with others. However, I wouldn't be able to attend as I needed to care for the babies.
So, it would be the children, including a few Salvatores and boys, along with some other girls, making do with fewer adults. I also knew Mariella's toddlers had their own trip planned. Mariella and Mr. Pissant-Dickweed would be going, leaving the babies with the older girls – well, that was their choice, not my problem.
Humming low under my breath, I unloaded stacks of roses and carried them to my shelves, where more buckets filled with water awaited. I placed the roses in the water.
"My love, Mimi, time for a snack. Come to the kitchen," Number Ten's voice echoed in my mind.
Taking a breath, I replied, "In a minute."
I didn't stop to consider my words, as this particular phrase often set my husband off; he disliked my slightly delayed approach to obeying him.
Less than a minute later, the door to my flower room opened, and the individual in question walked in.
"Baby, I said, time to eat... What the fuck is this? How damn big was your order?" he muttered, surveying the veritable sea of flowers.
"Well," I explained, "my original order wasn't that large, but the delivery man's truck was full. One of his biggest clients backed out, leaving him with a truckload of flowers. Normally, sellers would have him ditch them since most are imported. I was his last hope, so we struck a deal. Now I have a shitload of species I don't even have prices for—roses and others in whole new colors and sizes. It'll take a bit of time to organize and price them all."
He nodded. "I just told Charles this. He'll come over, price these, and then we'll have an inventory we can move to our shop. They're lacking there, too, and we need the space. So we'll get this done, not just you, but bloody well done."
His voice held a note of pride as he, too, began to walk, passing the trolleys and leaning in to smell a big bunch of sweetpeas or wisteria, whichever it was.
My mind was already churning with ideas for how to use the new blooms. I was already planning a few new arrangements for our wedding clients, now that I had a much wider selection to choose from.
I walked to one of my bookshelves, retrieved a thick booklet, and handed it to Salvatore.
"This is the list price from one of our vendors, so you'll have an idea of what they're asking," I explained. "Of course, since most of these are auctioned off, the price varies, but this will give you a general idea. I'm going to make those arrangements now, as well as a few new sample ones, and then we can check on pricing."
Just as I finished speaking, Number Ten grabbed my arm.
"Now, go sit," he commanded, his voice calm yet dominant. "Give me the list of what you need and what you're planning, and I'll make sure they're for you. There's no need for you to get anaphylaxis; some of the species are brand new, and we haven't had time to check them out."
My mind wandered as I handed him the list of my plans. I thought back to when Mariella first entered my life and how different I had been then – so hardened, burdened, and somewhat hollowed out. I watched as Number Ten took my list, selected roses, new varieties, and new colors, and then brought them to me so I could start crafting my bouquets and other arrangements. He rarely did any flower work, and I knew we should probably eat something soon, but he, too, was captivated by my extensive selection of plants.
I realized it would take several individuals to decide what stays and what goes, especially since my girls were less sensitive to certain plants than I was, allowing them to make arrangements with those plants in our flower shop.
Salvatores, too, could help. I simply loved being here, in the middle of a veritable sea of flowers, creating my arrangements, being loved, and having a family. This truly felt perfect, with all its imperfections.
Hours later, as I was arranging white spray roses, light blue accents, and yellow chrysanthemums, Number Five walked in. He inspected my flowers, much like he had done previously after I had stepped away to eat and then returned. I knew Adam and Charles were also back home and might join us, but now this possessive creature was beside me.
"That's kind of bland, sweet but bland," he remarked, "let me select the next one for you."
I had already completed all the necessary arrangements, and some of the flowers were set aside to be moved to our shop later. However, Number Five didn't wait for my approval. He enthusiastically began picking a variety of flowers and plants, some I hadn't used before, and others that were familiar but in unusual colors. Soon, I realized his chosen color theme was quite vampiric.
He brought me long, large, dark red roses that had been partially dyed with gold paint. Their deep red was almost black, creating a very dramatic effect. He also selected black carnations, dark violet peonies, orchids, some golden grasses, and bright white sweet peas – a truly vampiric palette. There was an abundance of greenery, including new species, along with a few dark red cockscombs, a huge bright white hydrangea, and long stems of bamboo.
"Fine," I thought, "I'll make this a grand arrangement."
The hydrangea was large enough to anchor the piece, and I needed to ensure it was balanced. This wouldn't be an inexpensive creation, but there was certainly a demand for pricier ones. I suspected Charles might even increase the price further, despite my own pricing.
Number Five pressed himself against my back, almost as if he were co-creating this piece of art with me. He plucked greenery and added it to my arrangement. He didn't allow me to simply hold it; instead, he brought a large vase where we, together, began to construct this masterpiece.
It was a new experience for me, almost like learning to do things together again, rather than just by myself. As we created, my mind began to wander back to the time of my first litter, when Lepard was born. That event changed me, much like this experience was changing me, and that transformation, at least partially, was still with me. However, I also realized I wasn't bound by it, nor should I be. It was merely instinct, a part of me, and I had the choice to act differently or learn to control my instincts.
My thoughts then continued to flow through all the experiences I'd had since then, including my darkest times. I steered away from dwelling on those, however, as I felt the presence of so many husbands in my mind, guarding me, loving me, and literally monitoring my thoughts to prevent me from getting entangled.
My so-called syndrome, my nightmare distress syndrome, was always lurking, a state where I blamed myself, struggled to cope, and twisted my mind into knots. My saviors had learned to take this seriously, and it was even logged in my medical records so that my organization in the real world, once our time in this pocket version concluded, would be able to keep an eye on me.
My mind had originally been made brittle by boosting my memory into hyperfocus, allowing me to recall everything. The goal was to overwhelm me, to break my identity, and turn me into a killer. However, my mind fought back; it wasn't that easy, and I had my saviors, Adam and Damon, to help me.
Consequently, my mind learned to cope, but there was still this brittleness, this possibility of becoming overwhelmed. Then, my sense of responsibility, along with all my experiences, hit me. It took some clever mental work to dispel it all. My husbands and Wulfe had been dealing with this for quite some years now, and they were becoming increasingly adept at preventing it from blooming in the first place.
I was now under stricter control because of my argument with Dickweed. This meant I could potentially take the blame if I let my mind scatter, but my loved ones ensured that wouldn't happen, not under any circumstances. As I said, I was cared for and loved, and it was as wonderful as ever, yet it was still quite new to me.
Number five, as he was placing dark violet stems of lathyrus and a few white stems of tiny spray roses into our bouquet, he said to me, "I love you, you know that, and I will keep you safe from your syndrome. I know we can't cure it, but Wulfe is constantly working on new techniques to lessen the emotional load in your memories. He's also tinkering with ideas about decoupling your emotions from your bloodlust. This would make things easier for you and for us in case of a crisis, so your bitch side doesn't wake up so easily. By the way, I can sense her. You need blood, and I think you need some one-on-one time with Wulfe; he can calm her down enough."
I, not being too keen on my vampire side always being dealt with, as my bloodlust was pretty much always simmering, and I had planned to indulge in some blood later, replied, "No need to bother him. I can handle this. I know my vampire side is pissed off and awakening, but I can control myself. No need to worry."
Number five then crooned in my ear, "Oh, my wife, this was not a suggestion, but I was just informing you."
A sharp headache hit between my eyes as I felt Wulfe in my mind, zeroing in on my vampire side. She was not happy as Wulfe used some kind of spell to push her back down. She was quite lively, and this gave me a headache, which also bloomed my bloodlust. Oh my god, Number five was starting to smell delicious.
Hmm, I needed to feed. I wanted to get that hot, thick, power-laced blood in my belly and fucking lot. My bloodlust, which had been simmering, was now more or less roaring and almost demanding me to act.
Number Five calmly stated, "Don't even plan on making me your meal. Wulfe has something in mind for your vampire side and will address it once the toddlers have gone on their trip, which might take a few days. I know you, or at least part of you, isn't happy about this, but it will help. We aren't involving it yet; Wulfe will be the one to initiate it, and when he says we can participate, then we will help you out. I'm not revealing the full plan now, partially because that bitch could try to stop us, and it's better if she remains unaware of the entire strategy. However, once we get it properly underway, I have a feeling you might be able to help as well. I know that being in the throes of bloodlust and controlling your vampire side isn't exactly fun." His voice was flat, leaving no room for negotiation.
I focused on pushing my vampire side and bloodlust down, wanting to concentrate on my flowers and orders rather than giving in to my urges. I refused to be that weak. What my future held, or what Wulfe's plan entailed, was beyond me, and I wasn't going to try to figure it out. Time would tell if he would execute it.
Alternatively, if I could bring the bitch down myself, perhaps he could forget about dealing with her. Strangely, I found myself protecting Wulfe. I knew how nasty she could be if she was determined enough to need a meal, and putting Wulfe through that would be a bad idea. He was so old that I couldn't predict his reaction.
I still perceived my vampire side as stronger than him, and this wasn't disrespect; I simply knew the bitch intimately, having lived with her inside me for centuries and witnessing her capabilities firsthand. Therefore, I hoped I could push her down and simply move on with my imperfect, yet perfectly acceptable, life.