It had been two days, and my tests were clear. The children, who had been not been daycare, were now eager for their weekend trip, it being Friday. I was sitting in my living room, a dramatic space decorated by Salvatores with yellow, black, and a few tapestries, including old coats of arms and trophy skulls with horns. Salvatores were also present. The girls had taken the overexcited children outside to burn off some energy with Adam and Lepard.
"Tell me, or better yet, describe to me the scent of a rose," I asked Number Five. I was teaching them about pheromones and how to interpret them when they weren't emanating from an individual.
It was a challenging lesson, but I was trying. He furrowed his brow, finding the task seemingly impossible: how does one put into words the scent of a rose? Most people have smelled one and have an idea, but articulating it is not easy.
He replied, "Well, it's not easy for me to find distinct notes; everyone has an idea of a rose's scent."
I nodded. "This is the fundamental challenge with pheromones, and it's my biggest hurdle when teaching what each pheromone smells like. I have my own method; my brain deciphers scents and smells, giving me some idea of what they're like, but it's all connected to my past and the emotions those scents evoke in me. Pheromones are primarily the scents of feelings, emotions, and physical sensations. While they each have a distinct chemical composition, everyone interprets that scent uniquely. If you were to create a pheromone chemically, it would smell off because it would lack the attached feeling or signature; as you know, each pheromone carries the signature of the creature emitting it."
"Yeah, I get that, but how can we improve? Do more, smell more precisely?" Number Eight's voice was impatient.
I smiled. "Let me tell you a slightly embarrassing story about myself and pheromones, about smelling them."
Number Five was ready, leaning back, steepled fingers, crossed legs, waiting. Number Eight lounged on a sofa, one leg over his thigh, his finger drumming impatiently. They were, at this point, happy that I was teaching them, even while over half the pack was in the hospital. However, this was, by no means, an easy subject to learn.
"It was pretty early on in my story," I began. "Mariella had just gotten here, and we were in Ohio at the time. I was walking outside, tired of listening to her praise Damon and watching him interfere with my work or whatever I was doing. It was summer, and I hadn't been alpha female for very long, so my pheromones, well, they still confused me from time to time. I was walking outside in a meadow when I smelled a lovely, sublime fragrance. I initially thought it was a flower, something entirely new to me. My instincts immediately focused on the scent, trying to understand the feelings it evoked."
I rolled my eyes, admitting this was the most embarrassing part of my story. I wasn't always so good with my pheromones, and even this lesson stuck with me. I idly ran my hands over my face, mustering the courage to recount how foolish I'd been.
"So, I focused on the scent and noticed I was becoming aroused, not overwhelmingly so, but definitely aroused. I felt a need for sex. I was just thinking what if Damon and Mariella's window was open and this scent wafted out, but no, that wasn't it at all. I started to trace the scent, and this feeling of needing a male was getting stronger, yet I had never felt anything like it. I walked through the meadow for half an hour, and I traced the scent near the house."
Number Eight smirked, clearly eager to hear the rest. I looked sheepish as I continued.
"I was circling the house, and the scent was getting stronger, more alluring. I happened to see this beautiful, big black swallowtail butterfly resting on the wall. I could tell it was male; it had these big, feathered antennae. I went closer, and then I realized – the damn butterfly was oozing its pheromones to lure females, and oh yes, it had lured one. Too bad we were totally different species."
This got all of the Salvatores howling with laughter, and Wulfe joined in. He was holding his stomach, unable to speak as he declared my story the most embarrassing, being seduced by a butterfly.
As they had their fun, Number Five, being a Salvatore, managed to compose himself and had to ask, "And then what? You were aroused, what happened next?"
There was a hint of steel in his voice; he was fishing for memories of me, Adam, or Charles, so he could fade them out and make our time much more pleasant.
I said, "Nothing so miraculous. I went in, checked my email, and got the work. There were too many messages from the fleas, and I was needed, so I just forgot my arousal and focused on what I was good at. It was typical for me at that time to suppress my arousal or turn it into productivity, as there were no males for me, and I wasn't so cockhungry that I would have needed one all the time."
Number Five seemed relaxed. Despite Adam being his close friend, packmate, and whatnot, my history with Adam was a sore spot for many males. They were jealous, possessive, and it often showed in their need to be with me, demonstrating how good they were with me. The past was the past, and I was now grafting the future.
I was idly thinking, would it change much if we had our children classified by their developmental age? Sure, it's a bit of a chore as classification is checked every other year and adjusted, but then again, what I had noticed was that my oldest ones were acting much like five-year-olds. This meant that if this went through, they would start school in the autumn. We had four schools to choose from, all within this program, so it was soon time to make some decisions.
And the big question: what about Mariella's kids? Should we include them as well? But then again, would Mariella or Damon put up a fight, and if so, what would that mean? If they were to go along with this scheme, it was most likely they might choose a different school than we would.
However, they had exactly the same four schools to choose from. And what if those tests put my kids more advanced than Mariella's? War? Accusations? My mind, as usual, was busy conjuring up whole scenarios one after another, not good ones, but mainly shitty ones. But this was part of our life. As I was now pack leader, I had to keep my mind focused and deal with one problem at a time.
Number Five said to me out loud, "Stop, stop trying to twist this into the next problem. We will get them dated with their development, and if Miss Pussy has issues, so be it. It might be that they will catch up, and who knows, maybe it gives Mariella and Damon some real motivation to be parents. Remember, you've got us; we are backing you up, and this is not just your decision. Mariella's kids are mine as well, Adam's, Wulfe's, and others', and we have kept our paternity, so this is also our decision, not solely yours."
I nodded. He was so attached to me, and incredibly attuned to my mental state. The Salvatores, motivated as they were, were really on point. It wasn't a three-day rule; it was constant vigilance.
Then Number Eight made a rather surprising suggestion: "Now, my cherie, mimi love," he began, "I've been thinking it might be useful for Sadie and the other kids to see you let off steam at the gym. Perhaps you could teach them some moves, or we could. As you know, physical release is a significant aspect of controlling rage, and it would help the children if they saw that even you need to do something to unload those big feelings."
It was certainly an interesting idea, but several issues immediately came to mind. Primarily, if I showed them how to punch and kick, would they use those moves at school or daycare? Would it truly help them? I had been dealing with my rage for so long, considering it almost unique to me, but now I had children who had inherited it.
Wulfe added a bit more: "As you know, the older girls have your rage as well, so they can be part of this too. It would do them good to see how this is done properly."
It seemed I had just been given a bit more to handle, as if my plate wasn't already fucking overflowing. Being a leader isn't freaking simple or easy, and running a pack of this size and complexity is even more difficult. But I was, no, *we* were, mustering through it.
I then started contemplating all the everyday issues: schools, travel distance, their needs, homework, school trips, parenting meetings. It was downright scary. I had never done this before, and I had no idea how good a parent I would actually be in the long run.
Number Five said, "You know, even Elena and I had Stephanie. I never went to any of those meetings because there weren't any, or at least Elena didn't tell me, and she probably took Stefan with her. So, this is new to us too, and we'll be just fine. Our kids are special, and this is a special school. I have no doubt there might be some initial meetings or planning as they get to know our five and then more about their abilities. Since they aren't only supernaturals and these are supernatural schools, there's no worry of humans coming to bully them."
He smiled at me, and I could feel his apprehension, yet simultaneously, a strong conviction that we could succeed. Wulfe was with us too; he was also more or less a novice, but there's a first time for everything. I had no idea how my next five children would fare in their age assessment, which would determine when they would start school.
The whole age thing felt strange but also much more logical, as I wouldn't have to constantly calculate their developmental stages in my mind. This shift would simplify things, offering a clearer picture of their growth. Their physical growth might also accelerate soon, necessitating adjustments to their wardrobes and the selection of new clothes, with or without their input, as needed.
So many small, seemingly insignificant things were suddenly thrust upon me, making it feel as though my life had taken a one fucking massive turn. Since Mariella's children were ill and not present, I wondered about their opinions. Would number one, upon returning from the hospital, be wiser? Would he revere Mariella and the children, then leave them to me while focusing on her? Only time would tell. It was, once again, a big, freakin' case of que sera, sera.
Wulfe commented softly in my mind, "And that, my unicorn, is what makes this so damn special. It's new for all of us; we have no way of predicting what or how this will unfold. All we can do is our best, take one day at a time, focus on the here and now, like our upcoming weekend, and stop worrying about the future. It's just life, and life finds a way, as you well know."
I replied rather sarcastically, "Tell me about it. My luck dictates this will go as badly as possible, triggering the next crisis for 'Mister Dickweed' and dividing this pack in two as 'Miss Pussy' starts to make a ruckus."
Number eight commented, "Well, baby, as pack leader, that's your job to deal with. Good luck with that."
"Oh, really? Good luck with that," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I leaned deeper into my soft, sinking chair, trying to focus on the present and stop worrying about the damn future.
Number five said to me, "Now, here is a list of needed supplies the camp director sent. I need you to go through this and see if we are missing any items, since you remember what we have packed already."
He handed me the list, and fine, let's focus on this now. I read through it, mentally listing what I had put in their bags—with a bit extra, of course—and then I noticed they were requesting indoor gym attire in case of bad weather.
Since this was a longer camp now—we had elongated it because the daycare center would open Wednesday, meaning the kids would be in camp until Tuesday—we would have a long adult weekend ahead. There were babies, of course, and tons of stuff to do, but getting my ten eager kids out of the way was quite helpful.
I said, "Fine, we need to add their inside exercise clothes. Let's put one pair of college pants, two T-shirts, two long-sleeved shirts, and inside shoes in their packs. They are more likely to spill something on their shirts than their pants, and since they already have several stretchy pants in there, there is no need to add more than one pair."
Wulfe asked, "Do we use their normal clothes, or shall I get something from storage?"
I furrowed my brow; sure, the boys had grown, but their clothes still fit.
I said, "Use the old ones. We can upgrade their sizes later as they grow a bit more, as they use those clothes very well."
We had quite a lot of clothes put away because they were very used, and when this was over, we could donate them somewhere; they were intact, per se, but many times washed, scuffed, and worn. Since they used those clothes to the very end, I let them, and only when they grew more would I or others get bigger sizes for them.
It was astonishing just how much clothing they used, and I was just happy I had plenty of kids' clothes, older ones included. I wasn't even thinking about the teenage years yet; sure, that would come in time, and then we would have to deal with it.
As the men walked away to update their bags, I found myself listing all the snacks and treats we had reserved for them in my mind. They would put their lunchboxes in order during the night to ensure they were fresh when their transport arrived, leaving us free to start our weekend. I usually preferred to get our chores out of the way so we could have a good time and enjoy the rest of the time, especially now that we had an extended weekend.
What still baffled me a bit, however, were Mariella's messages about number one's arousal. As I started to think about it, he usually reacted pretty strongly when dominated—good to know for the future. I wouldn't make the same mistake again, though then again, it was just right for him. There was no need for him to always be so composed and clinical; sometimes, a good dose of lust at an utterly wrong time would open up new horizons.