It was Wednesday, and I found myself in my shop once again. Number Five had gone to work yesterday, and my sauna plan had, kind of, backfired. Wulfe was exhausted, and for some reason, Number Five was still a little tired. Lepard had seen this, and well... let's just say the boys went off to have some male fun, leaving us girls to enjoy the sauna and swim on our own.
The next morning, Number Five left for work before I even woke up; he was gone by six AM, which was fine with me. I had shown him my snakes, and he had seemed excited, leading me to believe everything was going well and perhaps we would get lucky, but life happens. I wasn't upset.
He returned home after 5 PM, according to Lepard, though I arrived even later, around 6:30 PM, due to a few incoming orders, and I was beat. He was busy cooking for the next day and wasn't very affectionate. I was unsure what had happened, if he was having second thoughts about being with me, or if this was all just a game to him. He didn't seem to notice my morning sickness, clearly preoccupied with other things, and didn't ask about my finances, which was also fine with me; I could manage.
So, here I was, back at work. His awakening hadn't made much of a difference. Sure, it would bring in more money, but I wasn't sure how he planned to spend it. Lepard was a little more recovered and was driving me to work, along with May, Lily, Rose, and Daisy. So, carpooling again! He was also going to the shop to get more supplies for our Thanksgiving feast and had managed to find a pumpkin farm, promising to visit and get us some good edible pumpkins, since Halloween was over and we wouldn't be carving anything, only eating.
It was almost 1 PM, so I would be able to grab a snack soon. I was just finishing another email to a merchant who was trying to sell me overpriced greens. I remained polite but firm, reminding him that I could see the list prices and what others had paid, and I wasn't going to pay 25 percent more; I wasn't an idiot.
I could have used much stronger language, as I was cursing him in my mind, but I tried to keep the tone civil. I wasn't sure how much influence this idiot had, and if I angered him, he might badmouth me, and no one would sell me anything. So, I had to behave, or at least try to.
As I had just finished my letter, I was quite surprised when Lepard, along with Number Two, walked in.
Lepard said, "He knows. He asked the right questions, so I had to give him answers. Sorry, he insisted."
I rolled my eyes and replied, "It's fine. Since you're here, could you please bring those larger bags of soil inside? The idiotic deliverymen refused to, and with snow promised, Harding's and Ferris's, at least, are going to need them. I'd prefer they be in a warm place; they'll be easier to move when they aren't frozen solid."
Lepard nodded and left.
Number Two remained, crossing his arms and asking, "Well, do you have any explanation?"
I looked at him, a distinct edge in my voice. "No, do you, Mariella's pussy-slave Number Two? The one who promised her your soul, as she was a 'true woman' and not a 'freak with a pussy' who couldn't show her feelings? And don't deny it. My pretender side was fully active; I knew you meant every damn word. I also witnessed you swear your love to her in South Carolina, wanting only to be with her, so don't you dare come in here and demand an explanation from me."
He pursed his lips, glanced down, and then said, "I was referring to how in hell's name you're the pack leader!"
I shook my head. "Oh, really? Is it so bad? Boo-hoo. You can't do anything, not a damn thing. This was Charles's idea. He went by the wolves' rules, and as I am his mate, his one and only, the one he wants to be with, I am next after him, not you, not Lepard, not the demon girls. And, by the way, are you pissed off because I'm the leader, or did you notice Charles's little note about the order of succession and Mariella's exclusion from it? She will never be the leader, not in any case. Is that it?"
My little speech would have been much more effective had I remained upright and conscious, but having not eaten all morning, I was now pissed off, using my last reserves of glucose. It dropped, and I fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Lepard rushed to me, bit into his wrist, and put it to my mouth, dripping his blood. It took almost forty-five seconds before my lips latched on, and I managed to drink his blood, getting my mind back online.
Number Two simply stood there, his cold, uncaring eyes fixed on me, and the pain in my heart bloomed even more, a testament to my loss. Or perhaps I had never truly had him. Lepard helped me up and guided me to a chair, then fetched my snacks, which I began to eat.
He tossed a car fob to Number Two, saying, "You can go. No need for you to hang around here. Go back to your pussy, you damn pussyslave. Too bad you were too thirsty and had to find more to drink."
Number Two clenched his jaw and walked out without a word.
"Not to worry," Lepard said. "Ashley will be home soon, and I can ask her to come here, bringing the car around."
I replied, "Well, I still have hours left. Surely, you can teleport home; there's no need for you to hang around here."
Lepard insisted, "I'm not leaving you, not after you damn fainted. I'll be here the whole time, making sure you get more food and coffee. I have no idea what the fuck his problem was, but I don't care. Right now, you're my priority."
I rolled my eyes. "Same as always: guilt, self-blame, and the feeling he's done too much, too bad, and there's no coming back, so what the hell? He's an idiot with a dick."
Lepard sighed, "Let him be, for now. Just eat some more, and I'll carry the rest of those soil sacks inside. Sit, don't stand, not until I'm back."
His sky-blue eyes were filled with worry, and his voice was gentler, though with an edge; he was genuinely concerned for me and the little ones. I smiled and stayed seated, eating my crispy snacks and trying not to think about Number Two so much.
Lepard remained extremely attentive to me the entire time. Whenever customers came in, he preferred that I sit while he did the work. He joked that he was training to be my assistant since he was already my husband and wanted to spend more time with me.
This, of course, excited the crones who came daily just to check things, listen to gossip, tell me gossip, drink coffee, and chat. I had to be polite and keep my answers about his possible assistant work mild, as I wasn't sure if he had the patience for it, or if I had enough profit to make it work.
Furthermore, I wasn't sure if I could just randomly hire him or if I should make the job opening official. I had no idea and wasn't ready to delve into that so deeply yet, especially since Lepard had only been driving for a week. It might take a few weeks for him to gain more motivation, and this whole idea might blow over as well.
Even though he had no formal papers, he was a doctor, and he maintained a visible clinical perspective, constantly observing me. He ensured I ate and drank enough, especially sweet coffee, because my glucose regulation and metabolism differed from humans.
While some might assume my hypermetabolism would rapidly deplete glucose from my cells, it didn't work that way. Instead, it combined with caffeine and a few other metabolites, creating a more stable and longer-lasting molecule. This molecule also absorbed lifeforce from the blood I consumed, essentially containing energy.
In simpler terms, my body created these small molecules from sugar, caffeine, and other ingredients. These molecules then absorbed additional energy before entering my cells like loaded batteries. Once depleted, they disintegrated, necessitating a fresh supply. This meant I required a constant intake of caffeine, sugar (glucose or dextrose), sufficient amino acids, and enough blood to maintain stable blood sugar levels.
Maintaining this balance was a delicate act, dependent on numerous factors. Therefore, I needed to remember to drink coffee, consume blood and meat, and keep my coffee as sweet as possible. Now, I had no idea how my pregnancy with five little ones would affect this delicate balance. Would I need to consume more of everything, or something different altogether? How much more would I need, and what should I avoid?
These were interesting times ahead, and I might ask Lepard for his input once we returned home, assuming he had any insight. Such an inquiry might prompt him to order blood tests, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, considering it meant I was being cared for—unlike Number Two, the damn traitor.
Lepard was helping a couple load bags of soil into their car when one of the crones, Sheila Richardson, came to sit beside me. "Hello dear," she began, "what's bugging you? I can see something is troubling you. Come on, you can tell me."
I shrugged and admitted, "It's just one of my husbands. As I said, they can be pigs, and he was—not the guy I hoped he would be. It's not easy being married to ten versions of the same guy."
Sheila considered this, saying, "Oh, let me play this game. What kind of versions would I have if my Harold had ten versions of himself? Well, one would be a lazy one, never getting off the sofa and just watching sports all day long."
She smiled, and I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, there are lazy ones."
She smiled slyly. "Next, there's the one who wants to be with me all the time, buzzing around me like a damn fly. It's irritating as hell because he wants to do everything together. Sure, folks see it as sweet, but by God, I want to hang the laundry outside in my own peace and in my own way, not with him standing there, handing me each garment one at a time."
I smiled, finding her funny; it seemed men had some universal traits built in to drive us females crazy.
She then continued, "Oh, well, then we have what I call 'know-it-all,' almost as irritating as that damn one wanting to hang around. But this version seems to know everything and anything better than me."
I laughed out loud and said, "Been there, done that. It seems men are universal creatures, at least when it comes to these certain features."
She rolled her eyes, smiling too, and said, "Despite all that, I've been married to him for almost 50 years; our anniversary is coming up in a few years. But it's fine, every minute is precious. He makes me feel alive, you know, makes my heart flutter."
I nodded, not wanting to reveal how long I had been on and off with Damon—much longer than 50 years. But I understood what she meant; I had that kind of relationship mostly with Charles and Adam. Once upon a time, it had been Damon, but I had to think hard to remember the last time Damon made me feel like that—not even in Australia.
I realized there was just too much between us for it to happen again. But I had Charles and Adam, and what would happen with the Salvatores, only time would tell. And I wasn't so keen to even find out.
Sheila then said to me, "You know, you've lived longer than I, right? Been married longer. But as you see, when you have limited time, you appreciate what you have. Human life is fragile. I've seen so many die and wither away with dementia and whatnot. I love anyway. I have my Harold, and despite his irritating habits, he is my husband, something I cherish above all else. We have kids and grandkids, and soon one more generation is about to be born, and I wouldn't change a day, no matter what. We are old and wrinkly, but once we were young and in love like you. Don't let life take love from you; let it be. It hurts, it's supposed to, but remember it's also worth fighting for. Show him, show them you want them. Don't let this other girlie win. If you want their love, you gotta fight for it."
I had been quiet, not truly myself, but Sheila was right; I had been too passive. When Mariella did whatever she did, I simply folded, letting her have her way. No wonder she took what she wanted, perhaps even flaunting her desires.
Maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to do the same—to show them what I wanted. And that meant just one thing: a catfight. Whether Mariella and the rest of the Salvatores woke up or not, confrontation was necessary.
I turned to Sheila and said, "You know, you're right. It's time for a catfight, time to show the whole pack that I'm here and they better hear me roar."
She smiled, replying, "I'm glad you discovered your balls. Go get that bitch."
I suppose I had been badmouthing Mariella somewhat. But now I had a plan, or at least the beginnings of one, for when the time was right. And I realized I was actually looking forward to it; I had been for a long time.
After a long day, it was finally over, time to head back home. I was beat, but I knew I had a week of long days ahead, as orders for arrangements kept pouring in. It seemed everyone suddenly wanted a table piece for Thanksgiving and wasn't afraid to spend money on it.
So, I had a lot to do and would be working longer than usual, but I wouldn't keep the shop open on Saturday or Sunday, as I needed some time off too. The same hectic pace would continue for the next week until Thanksgiving, and I wasn't even beginning to think about how crazy Christmas time might be.
But then again, I loved being busy, and I could handle it, even though I felt it in my body. Despite Lepard being with me almost all the time, he too was quite surprised by how popular my shop was and how much people wanted arrangements.
He had a few of his own orders, as he smote some of the females, and I had my larger cooler where I placed the ready-made arrangements, keeping them pristine until the time was right.
Now wasn't the time to think about catfights or what I was going to do with Mariella once she emerged, as I was crafting an all-yellow arrangement—the last one for the day. The shop was closed, but I wanted to finish this one first. Of course, Lepard had his own ideas as well; he had a knack for finances, so he kept an eye on whether I was using too much material for the price I was asking. I had my guardians with me.
As I finally arrived home, the smell of food greeted me. Wulfe had arrived earlier and was already eating, while Number Five was busy in the kitchen, checking things out. I didn't see where Number Two was, and frankly, I didn't care.
Lepard said to me, "My love, go change and come to eat. You're beat, but you need food first and foremost."
I rolled my eyes. I would have loved a long, luxurious bath, but I did need food first. So, I walked to the elevator, took it to the fourth floor where my bedroom was, and went inside. I had some old but clean clothes reserved for home. I slipped into them, put on my slippers, freed my hair, and washed my face.
Then, I headed to the kitchen for that long-needed meal and perhaps some discussions. As I was walking to the kitchen, Number Two walked toward me.
He looked at me with contempt in his eyes and said, "Oh, used clothes once more. You haven't grasped the idea of clean clothes, I see, and you never will."
Fed up with his attitude, I let my anger flood out. "You are still my husband, you know, idiot. I know you went along with Mariella, but ask from upstairs, ask their opinion about her, and then come to me praising her pussy and her actions. I am working my ass off to get money, to keep this damn pack going. I have put a lot of effort into this, and your damn gaslighting attitude isn't really helping. So, if you don't want to contribute, I would suggest you ask Charles what consequences it will have, so you won't be surprised."
He snarled at me, "Oh, you love to pin this on Mariella. You want her to be at fault, don't you, you damn idiot? And by the way, Mimi, you were right. I do regret the promise I gave in Australia, so much so that I take it all back. You are nothing to me; only Mariella is!"
His ice-cold eyes flashed, and his mouth was set in a cruel line.
"Sure, let's have this then," I said to Number Five, who was at home, via our strong bond. "My love, Number Two has some problems with me. He took away that promise from Australia, so now it is your time to have me, if you want me."
This was the new me, ready to take the Salvatores, one by one, those who wanted me.
He soon teleported next to me, looked at Number Two, and said, "Well, good for you to be submerged in Mariella's pussy; that leaves me free to do this."
He grabbed me and kissed me like he meant it, like we hadn't kissed in years.
Number two walked away without a word. Number Five, on the other hand, kissed me for what felt like an eternity before finally pulling away.
"C'mon, baby," he said, his voice laced with seductive promise. "Let's go eat. And maybe this time, I might be in the mood to give you some dessert too..."
His ice-blue eyes sparkled with lust and affection, and his grasp remained firm as he teleported us to the kitchen to check what Lepard had prepared for me. After adjusting the food to my liking, we began to eat, he sitting close beside me.
Wulfe, clearly amused, commented through the hive, "It seems you've changed your mind again about which Salvatore you're going to take. This will be interesting, to say the least."
I rolled my eyes in response. "I would have never believed that working could be so damn exhausting,"
Wulfe then said aloud. "I mean, I sit at a computer most of the day, but by God, I'm wiped after my day."
Lepard retorted dryly, "Try driving an old rig full of logs on narrow, winding roads with no pavement and a tight schedule. The bench you sit on has no decent cushioning, and it's starting to snow. But then again, when I get my delivery on time, it gives me a feeling of accomplishment."
I remained quiet, deciding against complaining. A few other girls who had also come to eat began to describe how difficult it was to be constantly surrounded by French fries and hamburgers with only a short lunch break. They seemed to be perpetually hungry, which I thought served them right.
As I ate, I realized that our family, or at least a part of it, was truly starting to come together. Suddenly, the future looked a little less bleak, even knowing dark clouds were on the horizon. And having allowed myself to react and sass Number Two, I was now almost looking forward to another opportunity to sass Mariella. In fact, I was starting to anticipate it, crafting suitable sentences in my mind.