As I stood in the large room, which we were converting into a gym for the children, my voice snapped tersely, "No, no, move it slightly to the left."
I directed Lepard, who was arranging the mattresses on the floor of the baby gym. The babies were napping, and I felt a mix of exhaustion and electrifying anger. Lepard, Demon, May, Lily, Ashley, and Britney all shared the same mood.
The others were having fuckfest, to say it crudely, while Damon had bolted yet again, using my lust to initiate a pack-wide orgy, seemingly without a thought for the children.
"Oh my God, how damn irresponsible can he be?" I thought in my mind bitterly, and I was not the only one sharing this sentiment.
Lepard grunted as he wrestled the heavy mattress into place, securing it to the floor with magic and energy. It wouldn't budge.
Demon stood next to me, arms crossed, his mouth a tight line as he muttered, "This pack life... It's something else. I swear, when that damn idiot surfaces, I'll give him a piece of my mind."
Ashley, her hair mussed, chimed in, "Get in line, Buster. Me first! Come on, we have kids. But, Mom, you're right; we're the only ones we can trust. I get it now, and I'm not sure if this will ever change. I'm not blaming the other Salvatores; they're infected, but this... I mean, he is truly an idiot!"
I rolled my eyes, surveying our setup. It was now pretty toddler-proof, and would give the kids a chance to build skills and control while having fun. I took a deep breath, listing in my mind the absolutely necessary steps for us to take in order for this to work.
Food. It was one thing, but now was not the time for a fancy taco feast, just simple, fast-cooking, easy meals; we had a lot to do. If anyone even looked at me sideways after this, I was going to lose it, really.
Sure, we were a pack whose main energy was lust, but I had hoped Damon and the others would have grown a little bit more self-control and not see it as necessary to start copulating every damn time things went sideways. Sex was fun, but it was hardly the best coping mechanism in the long run. But when you're run by your dick and pussy, well, what the fuck was I expecting?
While the kids napped, we worked. We'd been keeping this pack afloat for three days. I didn't blame Wulfe; I knew he needed to control Mariella, as well as some of the Salvatores, whom Damon had infected with my lust. It needed an outlet. That was just how it was. Sure, we could do this; we'd done it before, and we could keep going. I wasn't worried about that.
Instead, I cursed internally as I realized I couldn't trust Damon to be strong for me, not now, not ever. It was a simple fact. I was destined to bear the hardest burdens alone and see who would still stand beside me. Like Demon and Lepard. They understood what had happened. Rather than unleashing their horror and other emotions through sex, they'd dedicated themselves to me and, more importantly, to the kids. They were what mattered.
I knew that once those fuckers were spent, there would be another time to talk and listen to their stammering excuses. Maybe I'd listen to Damon try to make it his fault, but I wasn't putting high expectations on any of that. Hell, I wasn't putting any expectations on it as I focused on the here and now. I focused on the next few hours, what needed to be done next, and the list of unfinished business grew daily.
There would be a long list of things to do, even if the males sometimes stopped and remembered what this pack was all about. This was my life; I was the one trying to make this damn pack work and function. Sometimes it felt like I was pulling lead weights while someone was trying to pull in the opposite direction instead of helping me.
But then I felt Lepard's and Demon's unwavering trust, their support, and I knew I wasn't alone. I had people. The girls were in this, too. As others were consumed by lust, my own was a powerful force. Ironically, my pack seemed unfortunately sensitive to it, meaning they had little to fight it with.
So when my lust hit them, they couldn't fight or suppress it, but rather surrendered to it. Was it weakness? I had no idea. I was pissed off, terse, and snapped orders to others. Amazingly, they bore the brunt and didn't flinch when I was in a bad mood most of the time. They understood me, too, and what I had done for this pack, how much effort and work we were putting in. Simple talking wouldn't do the trick this time; I was sure of that.
"Mimi, my love, what's next?" Lepard's warm voice asked nearby.
I glanced at my husband, his sky-blue eyes glinting with love and mischief. As a telepath, he'd likely gotten a good view of what led to this: Damon and me, fucking like crazy. I, with my own dirty mind, sometimes directed pornographic movies in my head.
But lately, I was a mother. Long bouts of unrestrained sex were no longer for me. I had my toddlers.
I answered him, "Well, let's go to the kitchen to make snacks. I reckon the toddlers will sleep for another 45 minutes, then it's snack time, and then they get to try out this room. Let's see how crazy it gets."
I wasn't being polite or understanding, but rather the leader who ran this pack with an iron fist, or so it seemed at times.
Lily commented nearby, her voice sarcastic, "It is now July, and they are quite damn wild. Just think, five months more: Christmas. I bet it won't be as calm as last Christmas. I'm not sure we can even let the Christmas trees be visible."
We had gotten the Christmas trees before the babies were born, and they had been magically implanted in the floor, where they grew. But since the kids had come along, those trees were hidden with magic. Toddlers and pines weren't a feasible combination. But then again, seeing them decorate or watch the Christmas trees might be wonderful.
We could surely put up some kind of shelter or security measure to stop them from hurting themselves with the trees. I was pretty sure they wouldn't climb them yet, but someday they might. Oh, it might be one hell of a Christmas.
But there was time for that. I had no idea about next week, let alone tomorrow. The babies, my babies, would have their after-examination next week, and I wasn't sure if the pack would have ceased their fuckfest even then.
A few days later, after the pack had finished their frenzied fuckfest, we were as busy as ever. We had a list of essential tasks, with other chores to tackle if time allowed. I wasn't in the mood to listen to anyone explaining things or trying to engage me. No amount of explaining would help but just piss me off ever so more.
My life was a constant list of chores. At night, while the toddlers slept, I was active: washing laundry, making food, preparing things for the coming days, and even doing floral arrangements, as my flower shop business was still running, and orders were coming in. There was a ton of work to be done.
Since we only did the minimum, there were consequences. However, we quickly learned how to optimize, how to do things faster, smarter, and more efficiently. It may have been boring, but it was necessary since there weren't enough of us to do things differently.
To add to my frustration, my doctor's appointment had been canceled, not by me, but by them, as the doctor was ill. Since we had doctors within the pack, it wasn't considered necessary. Fuck, I was pissed off about that too.
My temper seemed to be running hot, and there was no filter on my mouth. My vocabulary was inventive, crude, and snappish most of the time, often including curses. Despite having kids around, it was a good time for them to learn the language of frustration, as it was essential in this pack. But it was what it was, and there was no reason to blow my gasket over it.
After all, our gym had been a big hit and a great success. Once we got the toddlers in there, they were running and exploring, eventually knocking themselves out. They had energy and then some, but it was all good, and it was what I had envisioned. Since we had soft mattresses, we usually let them nap or at least wait until they were sound asleep before carrying them back to their beds. Of course, as their motor control improved, they became unhappy if they woke up and we didn't get them out of their beds immediately.
Darien, who was a climber, was trying to climb over the rail, making my heart almost stop the first time I saw him teetering on the edge of the bedrail. If he'd leaned over a little more, he would have fallen headfirst.
This spurred Lepard and Demon to raise the sides of the beds and create a door so I could reach in to put them in bed. There was now a soft mattress in front of all the beds, including Mariella's lively triplets.
Mariella's triplets were spry, running with Dash, giggling, and ending up on the floor, almost laughing hysterically. They weren't sure what was so funny, but at least they were having fun, and they didn't seem to miss their actual parents, who had been busy.
Good for me, I thought. Eight toddlers were certainly a lot to deal with, but it was lovely to be around them. I wasn't sure if I would want to cook once the "fuckfest" was over, or if I should dedicate my time to being their mother even more than I was already, making the men cook and clean. Not a bad idea, not at all.
I was in the kitchen when Mariella came in. She was primped as ever, and her belly was slightly bulging already. She wasn't as fit as me, and her physique showed that she was pregnant again. And I was just thrilled about it. Let her grow really fat and clumsy before giving birth, and then struggle to get her shape back.
I was a nasty cow as I was getting the snack boxes for the toddlers when she said, "I am sorry, we blew it. I mean, I feel like a lousy mother."
I was kind of pissed off, so I spared nothing as I replied, "You are no mother, not for those three or your older ones. I am a thousand times more mother than you are. No need to say it out loud; we all know it."
She was silent, and then a gasping sob escaped from her throat. "No... no need to be this cruel, Mimi, I'm not perfect, but please..."
I just looked at her, full of disdain, as I got my boxes in order and said, "Being a mother is more than having a big belly, sagging tits, and an insane libido. It's putting others before you, and we all know you are utterly incapable of that."
She clutched her belly and literally ran out of the kitchen, crying and sobbing. I held no regrets. I was pissed off as hell, and she expected me to pat her head and say it was okay? Well, fuck when it wasn't.
As I carried my snack boxes toward the gym, I muttered to myself. Inside, toddlers were already running, screaming, and generally doing as they pleased. Lepard was watching them, while Demon, in his jaguar form, entertained them, allowing them to explore his feline form. This whole setup was my idea, and as usual, it was a success. Feeling rather pleased with myself, I was also annoyed with the rest of the pack.
I set the snack boxes on a table and turned to Lepard. "Just imagine, Mariella walked into the kitchen, all apologetic, expecting me to pat her head and tell her it was alright. Well, fuck that! I told her straight up that she wasn't a good mother, that she wasn't a mother at all. Of course, being hormonal and pregnant, she started sobbing and ran off crying. What a loser!"
Lepard remained silent for a moment before responding. "I know, my love, that this is a difficult situation for you. You've been a bit irritable. But I must admit, Mariella isn't being a good mother. However, my dear wife, sometimes you are a little too blunt. You could rephrase your words with a bit more tact."
My irritation flared. Who did he think he was, coming to me and demanding I be nice when the rest of the pack had been on a week-long fuckfest, leaving me high and dry with the kids?
I snapped, "I'm not going to sugarcoat things. It's not my style. If she can't handle the truth, she should learn to stay the hell away from me and not expect me to be fucking fine with her. She has no idea how hard this has been and how much we've put on hold. Oh, Lepard, you're such a diplomat when you... Oh, wait, I see. Your telepathy picked up on her stress, right? And you feel bad for her? Don't. Or if you do, don't tell me about it, and don't you dare expect me to be fine with it!" I kept my voice low, but my venomous tone was still evident.
Lepard furrowed his brow, and his calm, relaxed tone and posture – leaning against the wall, watching the kids – were irritating.
"Calm the fuck down, will ya? I'm not taking sides. I was just saying that sometimes subtlety is a better option than exploding someone's face, even if you're fucked up," he said.
My irritation mounted, and I snarled. My hands fisted, my breathing grew deeper and more rapid as the pressure of my rage flared. As it did, my bloodlust surged, and Lepard's neck started to look very delicious. I took deep breaths. Now wasn't the time to make a meal out of him, not with the kids around.
I could have done it; I really could. But I exercised iron self-control, stopping myself from launching at him, sinking my fangs into his neck, and draining him as much as I wanted. Losing control wasn't an option, not this time, and perhaps not in a long time.
I had just finished a nasty, week-long (or maybe a bit longer) lesson about trusting too much. The result? My husband was traumatized, and my lust had spread to others. Over half of the twenty-five adults in our pack engaged in an orgy, their immaturity leading them to use sex as the only way to cope with their big feelings, as if carnality would ever make anything better.
I was reeling, thinking about it all, pissed off. When would they learn? When would they realize that a fuckfest wasn't a solution when things went sideways? The ideal situation would have been Damon staying with me, putting his shock aside, helping me, keeping me close, and showing me that trusting wasn't a bad thing.
He could have eased the worst of the shock and shared it, made me talk about it. But no, he ran away, right between Mariella's legs, sinking there as usual. My life wasn't working out like a romance novel, but rather like a cheap novel bought in a stand, written by some nobody in a drunken bender.