As Mariella finally sat in the car and it started to drive, it was not long, maybe 30 to 45 minutes to reach the hospital. She was once again confused; the reason for her confusion was the scent that always felt like burning pinecones, the scent of Damon's dark arousal.
He now reeked of this. How could he be aroused when his kids—well, technically not his biological kids—but anyway, sick kids were in the car with a possible nasty infection that was highly contagious as well? She glanced at Damon, who was sitting and slightly adjusting his position.
The proof was in his pants; he was hot, hard, and so ready. Mariella just did not comprehend it. She was thinking about what this meant, and she had to be honest with herself: she was not frantic for the kids, and it made her feel less like a mother again; she just did not feel it.
Damon was sitting and thinking about how close he had been if Mariella had not come in at the moment she did. Dark arousal swirled in his mind as he recalled Mimi's hot, tight body pressed against him, her power lifting him up, her hand in his collar, her voice hissing in his ear. All this was the ultimate aphrodisiac for him. Oh, he would have fucked her right there, right then, if only circumstances had not stopped him.
His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, and he adjusted his position again, trying to find some ease for his throbbing dick. But since these were once more jeans selected by Mariella, they were too small for him, uncomfortable to wear, and now almost painfully restricting.
He had been so close to smashing his lips against hers, flipping her over, dominating her, making her try to fight him some more, but no. He felt like this was not the place he wanted to be, as Mariella was confused and now reading something from her phone. Charles was driving, and the girls were trying to keep the younger kids calm while several Salvatores—numbers 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, and 10—were focusing on those three sick ones, giving them first aid, preventing seizures, and lowering fever. Damon was not interested in this minute of being a doctor; all he could think about was that argument, that domination, his reaction, her power pressing on him—so fucking arousing.
Mariella was reading from her phone facts about meningitis; Damon had not given her much knowledge about infections in humans, and when dealing with Mimi, he had gone with his gut and his instincts, so this was new to Mariella too. The more she read, the more serious her expression grew, but she knew they would soon be in the hospital, and this was caught early.
Still, it might be rough on the kids, and she hoped her younger ones had not contracted it; it was easier to deal with three sick kids than nine. She sighed to herself. Damon seemed so preoccupied with something. The Salvatores were mostly in doctor mode, and the girls were entertaining the younger brood.
Mariella was still baffled by Damon's arousal, and then she finally started to recall in her mind what had happened. Of course, she now remembered Mimi furiously keeping Damon hanging from the wall, hissing at him something that dominated him, and knowing his penchant for females dominating him, it was no wonder he was in the state he was.
Mariella also looked at the other Salvatores, as they had again dressed in a much more casual way, but not just jeans and t-shirts. For instance, number four seemed to have a light green linen short-sleeved button-up shirt, dark blue chinos, casual leather shoes, and a darker green scarf around his neck. His hair was longer and flopping into his eyes as he focused on measuring fever medication for Tiffany, muttering to number three about Tiffany's weight estimation.
Mariella noticed how her selection of what she bought for number one was ill-fitting; those jeans seemed too tight, and he adjusted his position, pulling at them as he tried to find a comfortable position. The shirt, which Mariella had thought was fashionable because of its patterns, was actually rather gaudy and cheap-looking when compared to number three's Valentino shirt with spirals and twists.
The shirt was also too tight. Mariella had thought it would reveal Damon's magnificent body, but she could see he was not comfortable wearing it. Fine, as soon as this crisis was solved, Mariella swore to herself to go to Mimi and ask for some lessons on how to choose the correct clothes for men and how to know their sizes. She wanted to dress them up better than she had so far.
As they finally pulled up to the hospital, Damon said, "Go back, there are staff waiting, no need to expose others."
His voice was curt and his expression stern. The sick kids were now a bit quieter as the drugs had helped them, and the car drove into the back of the hospital where people donned in protective gear were waiting for them.
The car stopped, and number one walked out and said, "Okay, so first we have three who have symptoms."
He took Amber out first. "This is Amber; her symptoms seem the worst. My other wife noticed that she was not fine. She has a stiff neck, photophobia, and had a fever of 106 F, but we gave her fever medicine, and it has come down."
A few nurses took Amber and placed her onto a gurney. She was tired, her pale face somber, and her blonde curls slightly damp as the fever had broken a bit. The nurses talked to her softly, secured her onto the gurney, and started to move her inside as Damon took out Candice next.
Meanwhile, as Damon gave medicine dosages, and when they had been given, Mariella and the others got out of the car as well, all except Charles. He was going to park the car and possibly drive back home later on. He was not so keen on being Mariella's entertainment when Mimi needed a firm hand, and he wanted to check what she had actually done, behind his back, more or less.
Mariella stood there, and one of the nurses said, "Do you have the children's papers? I could take them, and you can fill out these forms."
The nurse handed her clipboards with intake forms, but before she had a chance to reply, Damon snatched the forms from her grip and handed the kids' papers to the nurse, who started to input their data into her datapad and soon printed out the kids' bracelets, IDs of a kind.
The nurse said to Mariella, "This way, follow me," as the other men and girls were now ushering the younger six kids inside, as more nurses in protective gear came to take them into isolation as well for testing.
Mariella walked behind the nurse; this was new to her as she had never had to face this sort of mortality.
They went to the pediatric isolation unit, and the nurse said to them, "Now, we will take some tests, and doctors will look through those three, as well as the other six. Here is where you can wait; here is a vending machine, and I am afraid you can't go to the cafeteria as this is infectious. Until your samples are clean, you too are in isolation."
Charles grunted as he too had walked in, so much for his plans to go back home.
Mariella sat down on a chair, and there were all kinds of leaflets. Since the Salvatores seemed to have some kind of discussion telepathically and did not include her, she took one that told about this meningitis, and as she read on, she was a little more worried as this could be lethal for so-called immortals.
Since there were no tests for their unkillability, she now understood much better what Mimi must have gone through when her kids got sick, much more seriously. She was trying to calm herself that they got in time, and doctors would be on this; everything would be fine, but still, she just could not be sure.
The hospital's cold linoleum floors, white walls, and smell of the hospital all added to Mariella's uncertainty. Damon was not even trying to calm her down, and she sat there, put the damn leaflet back on the table, tapped her feet, glanced at the clock, and tried to think about what happened next.
Would they get sick too? The younger ones were about a year younger than the oldest ones, who were now almost four. Given their advanced mental growth, they were almost like five years old, while these younger ones were four years old—so small yet so capable already.
Were those three scared because she was not there, or were they too sick to notice? What kind of tests would they take? Mariella knew number four had given the doctors a few bottles of Salvatore's baby velvet, which should work on these as well, along with an approximation of dosage. If they had to take a spinal tap, the kids would be sleeping; rest was important for them.
Then Mariella started to think about where this infection had sprouted from. Was there some asymptomatic kid in the daycare center, or careless parents, or had it been some caretaker—again, no symptoms but a carrier? What would this mean, and why was this happening to them right now? How about Mimi, her kids, and the babies? Mariella wanted to watch her four little eager ones trying to stand; they were sitting and eating solids. It was messy as always, but now Mariella actually noticed that she was missing her babies. Maybe she still had hope as a mother.
She was getting nervous waiting around and kept tapping her leg, now drumming her fingers on her thigh as well, prompting Damon to snap at her, "Calm the fuck down, will you? It takes time, and there is nothing to worry about. We might have to be here for ten days or so; you better fucking calm down."
Mariella was silent but stopped her nervous fidgeting and took out her phone, starting to message Mimi. She was not sure if Damon could tap into their hive bond, and she was not eager to placate him all the time, as he seemed pretty pissed off right now. Charles kept his expression neutral, but slight hostility was oozing from him as well.
Mariella sighed in her mind and wrote a message to Mimi: "We are waiting; the kids have been taken to be tested. The males are pissed off. By the way, you should remember what not to do to Damon; he has some troubles because of your stunt."
Her phone was on silent as she sent the message. A slight glance at her husband's jeans told her his problem had not gone away; he was trying to find a suitable way to sit. Mariella rolled her eyes, focusing on what Wulfe had taught them, meaning first you have to picture the aim of your spell in your mind and then get it in words.
He had taught them about magic words and chanting. There was no need to always spin your magic if you could chant correctly, but it was freaking hard, and so far their success was minimal. Still, she tried, as this was a simple spell. As she thought about what she was aiming for, the word was forming in her mind.
The word had no meaning whatsoever but was what would carry her magic, her spell, and make it happen. "Anagharmnac," she let the word out, feeling her magic flaring up and the spell taking place, hitting its target and doing its work.
But because her chanting was slightly off, the spell was amplified, and now Damon had very loose and large jeans, plenty of room for him, as well as a shirt that was much bigger, almost hanging on him. He looked at Mariella angrily; she just smirked. He actually looked funny in those clothes that youths still wore—oversized and loose, hanging.
Now Damon was trying to make sure his jeans did not drop when he stood up, and he was trying to arrange his shirt so it was not pooling in his lap.
Mariella's phone blinked as Mimi answered, "What stunt? I am in isolation, no contact with kids until blood tests are clear; I reek of disinfectants still."
Mariella replied, "Do not hang Damon on the wall; it makes him pretty hard. He still has some adjustments to make."
She put a bunch of emojis in her message and pressed send. She was smugly happy with how well her spell hit, even if it was a bit too much, but still, she had done it.
She sat there, feeling still kind of smug, so much so that Damon glared at her. So far, Damon had not gotten his spells to work really well, as he was trying to use Italian pronunciation, and it did not work. Even if he got a word formed, he could not spell it correctly.
Girls were much better than she or any males, and even Adam was really pissed off, usually after class, as he had failed as well, despite Wulfe's assurances that it took time to get it to work, but practice was paramount and frustration was part of the bargain.
He had given them personal grimoires where to record spells and what they had gotten to work, so far those grimoires were empty. Wulfe had shown them his latest one, the 3689th one, and it was almost full, making them even more pissed off.
Many things swirled in Mariella's mind as she was waiting, sitting there for the first time in her life, unsure. She was trying to come up with all sorts of distractions so she would not get too frantic or feel this weird sense of emptiness, where true worry should be. She felt so lacking as a parent, and she just could not understand why.
Was her mind somehow faulty, or was her lustful energy messing things up? Was she unable to love someone with her whole heart, to be a mother? She just did not get it, not entirely what she should even feel or how she should behave. Was she really even worried about the kids, and how would she feel if one of them were to die? She was trying to picture a funeral, a grave, but it did nothing to her—no sorrow, no anxiety, nothing—just this weird emptiness, a sense of hollowness, and she just had to learn to deal with it, with this sort of feeling.
They were sitting in that room, the men not paying attention to her. She was spinning her problems in her mind and wondering what the future might hold; no one had clear answers to them just yet. It was just a big waiting game.