Oh, how glorious it was to be the alpha female of this pack as I, Mimi Salvatore, was feeling smug and for good reason, too. It was once again Friday, and today I was on kitchen duty. I had gotten the pack well under control, and now our pantry was full again as pack members logged their tasks, and everything was going smoothly.
Mariella and Damon, as well as numbers two, four, and five, had been teaching Mariella in bed for several days now, just as I had planned. It did the world good for them, and it let me do my thing. Today, as usual on Fridays, we had some form of junk food, like pizza or so. But I was going to make something we had never had—at least, I don't recall, and I remember everything.
Tacos. I was going to make three types of taco shells from three kinds of corn flour: pink, violet, and yellow. Then I'd create an elaborate table with a multitude of fillings, so each of us could fill up those tacos ourselves.
For the babies, it was their taste test day, and I planned to make a wheel of meat for them at dinnertime, meaning I had special plates with ten slots, each holding a different meat—red meat, poultry, fish, whatever—and it was meant for them to taste, choose, and have new experiences.
That would be quite an undertaking, and I was on kitchen duty all day, so I needed to plan carefully to get it all done in time. It would be a finely tuned dance once I had my menu in order. I was aiming for maximum impact and also prepping a lot of food, for several reasons.
First, I wanted our fridge full; I already had some supplies in there, but the pack was hungry, and food was always on demand. So I had filled our smokehouses with full carcasses, sausages, and whatnot—to get options for our tacos and sauces, too. The girls would surely help me during meal prep unless they were busy with the kids.
I had gotten most of our gates back on, making it relatively safer for the babies to move around in their limited space, although they weren't always happy about it. But toys and books helped, as did the other pack members.
I was just packing snack boxes for myself, which was kind of a new thing. I had these multi-slotted boxes with little use, and I finally decided to use them for my snacks. I had twelve laid out as I prepped what I was going to put in them: grapes, cheeses, mozzarella, my favorite snack salamis, pieces of meat, berries—I was making different kinds—and I was humming under my breath as Wulfe walked in.
His attention was drawn to my boxes. "My unicorn, what on earth are those for, and whom?"
I said. "For me, they are my snack boxes. As you see, I am filling them with all kinds of snacks, and I take one as I do my thing in the kitchen so I have something to snack on. I have had these boxes for ages, and I finally found a use for them."
Wulfe said calmly. "My love, I could use that kind of box, and I'm sure others could too, not to mention the babies once they grow a bit. Oh my god, they are adorable but lively."
I nodded.
After two days of childcare duty, including a particularly wet and tiring toddler bath day, Wulfe was eager for a change of pace. He was especially tired of bathing five temperamental toddlers eager to play with water.
"I must admit," he said to me, "you're still skilled. Number one was so ready to take you on, to be a leader. And what did you do? Drove him to... well, you know, fuck her brains out."
I smiled smugly and replied, "Mariella had a little upgrade. She got her beta power and used it to put her fourth embryo to sleep. That embryo belonged to Damon. So yeah, I showed her how to tap into that power. You know how irritated she is with Damon, so he took a few other Salvatores as reinforcements, forgetting his idea of ruling this wing. Nope, I'm not that easy."
Wulfe laughed out loud, genuinely amused. He walked over to me and began plucking snacks from my boxes and popping them into his mouth.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on now," I said, but I had plenty to spare.
I finished packing one box, put the lid on, and moved on to the next, causing him to furrow his brow as I thwarted his little game of dominance.
"I can make you your own snacks, you know. I have more of these boxes," I offered.
Wulfe shook his head. "Nope, not for me. I like to eat yours. We can share."
As I felt around the hive, I noticed the Salvatores were on the move. They had either woken up or finished whatever they were doing, I mean shagging, and were clearly planning something. Hmm, time to try a new plan.
I said to Wulfe, "Are you free? Do you want to do me a special favor? It might be hard and tedious, but I'd appreciate it, as it's something I can't do much about myself."
He nodded. "What do you need, my unicorn? I am yours."
I smiled internally and put my boxes in the fridge. "Come on, let's go to a special room, and I'll show you my problem."
He nodded, and we went to one of the rooms in the back part of the wing. It had been a storage room, but I had repurposed it unsuccessfully. It was a big room, and in the middle were two pillars, or pieces of lumber, propped up. Attached to those pillars were brushes. The space between them wasn't big, and there was a clump of fur stuck in those brushes.
"You see, I tried, but maybe you might have a better idea of what to do with this," I said, before shifting into my wolf form.
My wolf form was enormous, with long, fluffy, reddish fur, almost like an Irish Setter, but with a thick undercoat. I mean, a LOT of undercoat; giant grey tufts hung from my fur. I walked, trying to maneuver between the brushes to dislodge them, but they got stuck. I rocked back and forth, and finally, a puny clump came loose. I was so itchy and hot.
Wulfe said, "Oh, I see. That isn't helping. Come on, I'll brush you."
He conjured a few different brushes. There was a sofa nearby. He sat on it, and I padded over and jumped onto the couch.
He began to brush me. "You are dirty, you know—oily and gritty—and there's a huge amount of this damn fur stuck. No wonder you're itchy," he muttered as he worked.
It was hard work, requiring patience to carefully brush away most of my fur just to get some of the undercoat off without making me feel too uncomfortable.
We worked for about twenty minutes, and the air filled with floating pieces of fur. There were clumps on the floor. Wulfe tried to use magic to push it into a pile, but it was so light that it just moved and floated.
Then I heard footsteps; Salvatore's were using a hive to pinpoint our location, as planned.
I heard Mariella talking eagerly, "Oh Damon, I wonder what they're doing in here. I mean, this place is amazing. I wonder...would you like to move in here? I mean, there's a corridor opposite with these connecting corridors; we could move to that other side. There is plenty of room for kids, too."
I didn't hear Damon's response. Wulfe rolled his eyes and conjured a large trash bag. He used a spell to herd most of the free-floating fur into it. It was quite full, but fur was easy to compress.
As they finally found me, Damon's expression was surprised, but Number Four was faster. "Now, I see the young lady has some issues. Fine, I think, Wulfe, we might have a little jobsite in front of us."
Wulfe nodded. "She is oily, gritty, and itchy, as you can see. She tried to make a brushing machine for herself, but this coat is ridiculous; there is just so much of it."
Mariella suggested, "I think Mimi isn't the only one; we should do this for everyone."
Damon Number Two nodded, agreeing, "Well, my wives, it seems you all need some grooming. Mariella, you won't be changing shape since you're pregnant, but for the rest of us, it's grooming day. Let's start with the young lady first. It's washing time for you, baby. Then a blowdry to get rid of the fur. We might also need to check if our dental care can help to prevent future issues."
Damon Number One chimed in, "No need for constant grooming. We need a schedule: twice a year, wash and deshed for everyone. It could be part of the medical exam to check on animal forms, at least once a year, or even more often."
Damon Number Four, the most medically inclined, stated, "Yep, let's get this young lady washed. There's a bathroom in the next room that we can convert into a doggy spa. I'll get some shampoos and other supplies; you start wetting her."
I found myself standing in a modified bathtub as a stream of water poured over my fur. Hands rubbed me, spreading more shampoo; Number One himself wanted to wash me.
He softly tutted, "I have no idea how many times I've washed you; you are truly dirty. We need to go through all of your forms at some point for everyone. We can have a tiger day or a lion day; there's more to plan ahead."
"I noticed you've gotten your rhythm back; good. It will make this easier. Once we're done, you can tell me how this whole system works, how I log my tasks. We'll see then if your point system needs upgrading, as you aren't yet fully fit. We might even create a formula to determine how many points each of us has weekly. By the way, the whole pack will be joining for dinner; what's on the menu?"
I replied telepathically, "Tacos. They're new, and the children will have a tasting day, meaning a wheel of meats with ten different meats and textures. I'll be busy the rest of the day as I have to prep all the fillings and make the tacos from scratch. Salvatores will tell you how to log into the system and what's free. We usually reserve next week for the weekend, so since it's Friday now, I'll see you probably tomorrow, as I won't be in the kitchen."
Damon hummed as his firm hands continued to wash me. He seemed to enjoy it, at least partially. I had managed to shake my fur on him a few times, soaking him, but now, there was a binding spell on me, trapping me, like a naughty dog. Fine, what could I do? Nothing for now.
"Don't get rid of my undercoat," I said, a thought occurring to me. "Collect it in sacks and bring it to my craft room. I use it in felting."
Damon hummed in response. "Do you have a spinning wheel?" he asked. "I was actually planning to make yarn out of it; it's quite suitable for that. We can see what kind of fur others have, so we can literally have packyarn. I guess you have some sheep wool too, and what type of felting are you planning?"
Well, I had a secret project. I wasn't sure about it. A few years ago, I'd found a secret, very old chamber in my Moldovan castle. Inside were some really old tapestries, and I thought one of them might be Salvatore's coat of arms, but I hadn't found any references in books, so I couldn't be sure. Anyway, I was planning on needle felting it by that design and then asking if it was Salvatore's.
Damon's answer somehow made this come to mind, and he immediately latched onto it. In a low, quiet voice, he said, "Yeah, it is ours, that banner, our family crest, in the Moldovan castle. I last saw it in our house the day we left, but then again, my mother's brother lived in Carpathia or Transnistria, so I guess they must have gotten it, and you have it here?"
I nodded.
He continued, his voice again a little unsure, "Good. I'll ask Wulfe to go and find it and make a spell to protect it. It is our family coat of arms. Oh, I wish I had your memory. I recall one time, we were still separated from Damien. He was in Mother's lap as she was telling him about that coat of arms, what it meant, what everything in it meant, but I just can't remember what she said. I was too busy playing with a living mouse."
There was a note of longing in his voice, and I guessed he must have felt dismissed as a young child. I couldn't help him, or if I could, I didn't know how. He continued to wash me one more time, making it the sixth wash, followed by three conditioner applications and a final rinse.
Soon, it was time to start blow-drying me and remove the rest of my fur. Of course, he had already emptied my anal glands, muttering to himself that he should remove them surgically. He also checked my ears and cast a stinging spell to ensure every last hair was out and wouldn't return, causing my ear to flatten slightly as it stung.
Before blow-drying, however, he dried me with an enormous towel, which made a veritable rain of fur float in the air. Then, he cast a spell to collect the fur right in trash bags and compressed them so they would have plenty of my fur to spin into yarn.
He planned to mix some lamb's wool to make it perfect; perhaps they were planning to knit it themselves too. I also had angora wool, camel wool, and alpaca. Once they saw all my wools, they might be busy using them. I had a few ideas for wire-wrapping designs and was pondering them as the hot air started to blow my fur, drying me and dislodging thick clumps of my washed undercoat. It felt heavenly.
At the end of this process, Damon was going to check my skin to make sure there weren't any irritated spots or residual greasiness of any kind. This was doggy pampering, even though this was my wolf form.
He hadn't yet said anything about the future or what had happened, except for that note of his a week or so ago. But for now, it was time to move on and see how I was feeling about all of this, and whether he was willing to try to make things work between us properly this time, without any residual ill will or jealousy.
Being near him, inhaling his distinctive, passionfruit-tinged scent, underscored by the fiery essence of the forest, the warmth of the sun, and the ripe mystery of berries—his unique pheromonal signature—brought me peace. Seeing his focused expression and feeling his firm yet gentle hands on me was all I needed. I had longed for my other half, my biological complement, not as a sibling, but as a mate.
Despite the drama, we needed each other, or at least I needed him, and I had to accept that; it was unchangeable. The bathroom, with its dusky pink tiles, light grey floor, and dark grey towels, was softly lit, bright enough to see. The hum of the blow dryer, the feeling of hot air on my skin, and Damon tending to me brought a calmness I hadn't felt in ages.
Simultaneously, my alpha side was carefully scheming to keep Damon occupied and away from my taco preparation until I was ready. It was a power play, for sure; this situation had gained too much momentum, and I was now too cunning to let him sense my power. Oh, this day was shaping up to be a fine one.