As I put the last of our dinner away in the refrigerator, the kitchen, which was already dimly lit, seemed even more so. I had wiped the table and cleaned everything, leaving only our broth kettle on the stove, magically protected from spoiling. Bones and other ingredients gently simmered within.
I then walked over to the large oven and opened its hatches to allow residual warmth to flow through the ducts and into the rest of the wings. Though it was summer, a bit of warmth was always welcome, keeping the rooms dry and comfortable.
The men had gone to bathe the toddlers and were now putting them to bed, a task made difficult by the toddlers' crankiness after their baths. They were a little overstimulated, so calming them down would require time and effort, a lesson for Damon as well. Dinner had been a success, and my dessert, an ice cream fiesta, was a hit.
I had prepared my own ice cream plate, piling it high with fruit cubes, whipped cream, and various sauces. Damon had simply watched, taking in the novelty of it all. The babies had enjoyed their own ice cream, resulting in a mess, but their delighted giggles and wide smiles made it worthwhile.
The next step was to give the babies blood, stronger blood in little bottles, which usually tired them out. After that, I would read them a story. I wasn't sure if the Salvatores had told number one this trick, or whether he was putting Mariella's brood or mine to bed. While my toddlers had multiple daddies and fathers, in my mind, they were mine, not ours, just mine. Similarly, Mariella's brood was hers; that was just how I thought of it.
I was still quite full, so I decided against taking any snacks to bed. Instead, I planned to read or do something similar. I felt pleasantly lethargic, unsure if I had the energy to even watch a movie. However, I knew I might perk up after my evening shower, once I'd changed into my nightgown and gotten into bed; it had happened before.
My life was nice, even fun, and tomorrow would be busy, in a completely different way than today. With toddlers, my energy levels needed to be much higher than when I was simply making a meal, despite my meal being overly luxurious and abundant.
I flicked off the last light and headed to my bedroom, tired and feeling the strain of the day in my muscles. A hot shower was exactly what I needed; I wasn't aiming for a bath, no. With my luck, some arrogant husband would wander in, and they didn't like me dozing off in the bath – a bad habit, I admit.
But a long, luxurious shower would do me a world of good. I padded to my bedroom and flicked on the lights, which were soft. My bedroom was decorated in soft tones of powdery yellow, peach, and white, with hints of calming mint green and sky blue. My rugs were off-white, not too long-tufted for the summer, but silky and soft under my feet without being too fluffy.
My bed featured pink and light blue, complementing the other tones that decorated my bedroom walls, creating a soothing, calming, yet sophisticated atmosphere. This was my space, and although I sometimes shared it with men, we had plenty of other rooms dedicated to more intense moments.
However, with toddlers in the picture, there wasn't time for a sex holiday of more than hours, not days – or, at least, not many days. With my luck, one of several would surely find me in the most compromised positions, and I would be red as a beet as I tried to explain myself or save face.
As I began to undress, my mind wandered, considering random thoughts. Surely my pants weren't that dirty; they were a nice pair of jeans and didn't need washing. My tee shirt, however, was another story. Having spent all day in a hot kitchen, it was sweaty and dirty. I walked into my bathroom, leaving my jeans on a chair, intending to put them on in the morning.
I let down my hair on the way, leaving my scrunchie on my vanity, and then stepped into my pink and violet tiled bathroom, which featured a luxurious large shower, fluffy towels, and my washing equipment.
Although Salvatore had taken my plastic sponges because they left microplastics on my skin, causing occasional itchiness, I still had bath flowers made from net-like materials or natural loofah, depending on my preference.
As hot water cascaded over my body, I sighed with relief and pleasure, feeling the tension I hadn't realized I was holding in my muscles, back, and shoulders melt away. Cooking all day was tiring, no matter how much fun it was. The sound of the running water drowned out everything else, and I didn't notice someone entering.
I continued washing, lathering my hair three times and washing myself twice. I felt greasy or dirty, despite having washed earlier in my wolf form. My human form had been exposed to the hot kitchen's grease fumes and various meats, and I felt grimy. I washed myself twice until I felt squeaky clean and refreshed.
No longer sleepy, but relaxed, I considered watching a movie, but I wasn't hungry. Damon had fed me, knowing how to pack me utterly full so I was satiated for the time being. My body was happily digesting the mountain of food and treats I'd consumed during dinner.
Finally, I stepped out of the shower. After wringing out my hair, I grabbed a towel and a robe. All my larger robes had been confiscated by my greedy husbands, but this one was fine. It was velour, nice and soft, and a little longer than the others, and it was actually dark green. As I knotted the belt and stepped out of the bathroom, I was surprised.
The bedroom was filled with candles, and an aromatic scent hung in the air. My bed was open, and Damon, looking impossibly good in just jeans and with his upper body bare, was sitting there.
He looked at me and smiled, saying, "Let me pamper you after your hard work in the kitchen all day. Nice robe, by the way, baby."
"Thanks," I replied.
He countered, "I bet that's nice for me."
I rolled my eyes. "This is actually a female model, not unisex."
He just gestured, saying, "Wizard. Not hard for me to modify if needed. Come on, lay on your front. I'll give you a nice, long massage. Your muscles are still pretty knotted."
I took the towel out of my hair, grabbed my scrunchie—yes, I knew Damon didn't like them—but I made a knot of my hair, tying it up so he'd have an easier time massaging me. My long hair would be out of the way. I opened my robe and lay on my front on the bed, relaxing.
A massage sounded wonderful, and I didn't suspect anything weird. I felt him climb onto the bed, and soon his warm, firm hands began to massage my back, my arms, my lower back, my ass, and my thighs. He was using some kind of oil that warmed my muscles, making me almost melt into the bed.
Oh, this was heavenly. There were sore spots, of course, but he kneaded them skillfully, working until the knots unraveled and warm heat spread from the relaxing muscles to the surrounding area. He didn't talk much, only in a low voice, telling me how he needed to undo all the knots with his hands in my back. His voice had an almost hypnotic cadence, making me relax even further.
At one point, I had no idea how long I'd been there, but I felt a slight dampness of drool at the corner of my mouth.
He said, "My love, let's roll you over. You're pretty limp, but first, let me put this on."
I realized that he had, again, used some damn oil, relaxing my muscles to the point where I'd lost my motor control. He lifted my head, slipped an eye cover onto my eyes, plunging me into darkness, and then rolled me onto my back.
His hands moved over me with unsettling familiarity. My legs were spread, and his hands began to knead, exploring my breasts, waist, and thighs. Fingers found their way to my cuntlips, inciting a sigh as a deep need awakened. I longed to lift my hips and offer myself, but I was limp as a cooked noodle.
He hummed, and a strange energy flowed through me, kneading my muscles and sending waves of sensation through my body. I felt him close, doing something to my upper body, but I was partially numb, and the sleep mask kept me blind. Helpless again, but this time it was a delicious helplessness.
My pussy began to cream, my nipples hardened, and my breasts felt swollen, tender, and eager for his touch. My skin was both hypersensitive and desperately craving satisfaction, which was tantalizingly close, yet just out of reach. The sensual tension mounted, and I sighed, whimpering needily, earning dark chuckles in response.
I could sense his body, hot and hard, incredibly close, and I knew he was no longer wearing his jeans. Utterly naked, he still denied me the glorious cock my pussy craved. His hands were busy on my chest, near my breasts, but what he was doing was a mystery. I was paralyzed, only able to sigh and whimper.
This was torture. Finally, he began to touch me more intimately, crawling on top of me and whispering dirty words in my ear, "Oh, little bitch, all needy, all ready, need some hot hard dick in that drooling cunt of yours? Remember, you are not allowed to cum just yet."
I whimpered as his huge, hard cock plunged into me, igniting my nerves and making the world narrow to this single sensation. His thrusts grew harder and faster, his body pressing against mine, while the sleep mask kept me blind, leaving me only with touch and smell.
I was riding the crest of pleasure, moving fast, but his command to hold back prevented me from reaching the peak. I was kept teetering on the edge, shuddering and trembling as he continued to fuck me. Sweat poured down my skin.
Finally, he leaned into me, our chakras connecting, his sex chakra pushing me over the brink. I screamed internally as he covered my mouth with his, kissing me like never before. Our lust spilled out in waves. I no longer cared that the rest of the pack was beginning their own frenzied couplings.
My next peak was approaching. His last, hot jets had subsided, but he continued his frantic fucking, grunting, biting, nipping my skin, groping my breasts. I whimpered, my muscles still paralyzed, my eyes covered, reduced to a shuddering, reactive mess beneath him. Time had no meaning; only sensation remained: pleasure and the powerful connection of our chakras.
Our true soulmate bond flared open, and I swear I was almost living inside Damon's soul, as he was inside mine. However, as usual, that kind of connection could be dangerous if one was too curious, and Damon, well, he was nothing if not curious.
The sounds and smells of our sex, our lust, filled the air. I wasn't focused on the future or what this might do to us, nor what tomorrow would bring. I needed more, the next peak, the next explosive orgasm, the next thrust of his huge, hard cock arranging my insides. His hands on my body, his teeth on my skin – I was living in the moment, experiencing one moment at a time, wringing every last bit of pleasure out of it.
Lying atop Damon, I could finally see him clearly after hours of sex, or so it felt. I was pleasantly exhausted, on the verge of sleep, our connection still alight. Damon, however, had enhanced the magic symbol carved on my chest, which allowed him to siphon my powers. With a little more guidance from Wulfe, he was absorbing my powers through the symbol, which contained crystal chips that could store energy and power for later use.
As dawn broke, he softly stroked my back and said, "Baby, you haven't given me those full medical files yet." He continued, "What are you hiding? Come on, feel me. I can take it, let me in, let me share, let me help carry the burden. You don't need to be the strongest; I've got you."
Tired, I lifted my head and replied, "There's no need. I protect you and others by not sharing. Just leave it be, no need for you to..."
He pressed on, "Me to what? Come on, show me, tell me, let me show you you can lean on me."
Exhausted, and with our connection—the damned perfect thing—making me weak, I wanted this to be perfect. I was tired of being the strongest, so I let it out. I let him see everything: my hospital trip, the police assistance, my symptoms, the babies' cries, the paramedics' worry, my worsening condition, and then, the moment they lifted lifeless Darien out of the car and began CPR. I told him how I had fainted, how the babies woke up intubated many times, and how both Darien and I had coded three times.
Damon remained silent, his expression frigid, his eyes a glacial blue. Our connection faltered.
Then, he rolled me toward him, stroked my face, and said, "I'm sorry, I need to go to the bathroom, just sleep."
His voice was detached, and I knew. He got up and disappeared into the bathroom. After a few minutes of waiting, I closed my eyes, but as the space beside me grew cold, I padded to the bathroom, shut off the lights, and returned to bed, feeling lonely, empty, and cold.
Once again, he had done it. When would I learn? He wasn't to be trusted. He just couldn't handle it; no Salvatore could. The hive went dark, my connection to most of my husbands fading as shock hit them. They closed off.
I could feel lust stirring in the pack, waking up as Damon, the first, had flooded my lust into the other Salvatores, who then went for Mariella or older girls, but not for me. So, once again, I was left outside. However, I had my responsibilities, and now it was time to show this damn pack who the actual damn packleader was. This time, there was no hesitation, no longing in me, only ice-cold determination to make this happen. His choice, his burden.