Damon, having once again prepared a hoop, asked, "I want to make a multicolored one. Do you have multicolored ribbon, baby?"
I took a patient breath, reached for my side table, opened a drawer, and retrieved a few papers.
"Now, I know most of this is utter shit," I said, "but what matters is that our clients believe in it, and they want one stone." I handed him sheets detailing crystals and their meanings, which he began to read.
I continued, "As you see, there are many interpretations of what each crystal does, plus personal experiences. So, to make a multicolored one, it should almost be made by order, or no one might buy it, as the crystals might clash. Therefore, it's usually only one type of crystal. You can make them at home, but not for sale; I'm doing stuff to be sold."
He grunted, conceding, "Fine, fair point. What else do you do besides dreamcatchers and wire wrappings, Mimi?"
I replied, "I have a few ideas. I need to see if I can make them decent enough, and I was planning to try one today, maybe while watching my movies. Most of the stuff is presorted, but then there's always bagging stuff and making spoons—gluing a small stone on top of these brass spoons that Wulfe has made. Each one is unique; they're part of our 'scoop play' in our shop." Damon furrowed his brow, rested one leg on top of the other, and asked, "What is this scoopy thing?"
"Well, it's a game," I explained. "These types of games have existed on Facebook for centuries, ever since I was a human. It's simple: we have categories like carving, tower, sphere, nature, tumbles, spoons, and rings, among others. Each category contains beads, which are kept in a small bowl. There are several beads per category, and I'm not sure if we have over 40 categories currently. Then, there's the scoop – essentially a spoon. The client buys scoops; one scoop provides about 7 to 8 items, or beads. We then see what the client gets: dreamcatchers, moons, spheres, carvings, and so on. Of course, the client can log what they like and dislike, allowing us to swap out items. There's also an upgrade option. For example, if you buy four scoops and receive four pieces of one type of bead, you can select 'upgrade' and get four upgraded pieces from the category. These upgraded pieces are larger, more expensive, or more detailed. Since the girls video some of the scooping, if the client pays a bit extra, it gets more publicity. You can ask the girls for more details."
Damon grunted and said, "Good idea. I might just ask or go see how that's done, but it sounds fancy. Now, what are your new projects?"
"Well, a tree and a type of mushroom," I replied. "See, I have it here."
I reached for my basket of semi-finished works and took out my rose quartz tree. It was made of copper wires and a piece of wood. The copper wires formed the branches, and the wood was the trunk. It was glued onto a piece of clear quartz. I had only wrapped or glued a few chips of rose quartz onto the tips of the wires, and I needed to add more.
"This is the crystal tree; I'm just planning this. I haven't even shown it to Wulfe or Charles, as this is just my attempt. I need to get this perfect."
Damon snatched it from my hands and said, "Let me try. Give me those chips; I'm more patient and artistic than you. No need for your fast and loose approach here."
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head, and handed him the bowl of rose quartz chips.
I reached for my tiny mushroom domes. These domes had artificial moss and a few leaves at the bottom. I was placing crystal mushrooms, each a different variety, inside. Then, I would glue the dome shut. I had about 25 bottoms already completed, along with a bowl of suitable mushrooms and my glue ready. The first dome I picked had a dark orange fake leaf inside, a carnelian.
As I reached for my glue, Damon asked, "Glue, really?"
He continued, "Put it ready, and put the dome on. Oh, wait, let me make you spell on this table for those. And by the way, I can make those too." Then he added, "Missy, it is time for you to drink, I'll get you drinks."
He stood up, snatched my dome from my hands, placed a mushroom inside, muttered a few Italian words, and put the dome back on. After a few more words, it was ready. He then placed it into a basket where my finished works were kept.
Damon walked to the fridge and took out a bottle of ice-cold Coke and a glass. He poured me three full glasses and waited for me to drink them. He then poured three more before returning the bottle and returning to his seat.
He said, "Baby, tell me a dirty fantasy, come on, you know, you have given me a lot of material, but can you make a new one? I know you are not incapable of anything, but for the future, who knows."
The question surprised me. I thought Damon was a lust wizard, and it wasn't atypical for us to discuss sex and fantasies. After all, we weren't human. It was still a bit surprising, and part of me really wanted to go with the play and let it rip, but my reasonable side saw right through him.
I replied, "Sorry, I am not going to give you ideas on how to seduce Mariella or make your bedtime better. If and when I give you my fantasy, mister, you can be sure I'll be able to bear what comes out of it."
Damon looked sheepishly at me, his eyes narrowing from shame, his mouth snapping back into a neutral position as he continued to tinker with a tree.
The silence stretched between us, an unseen force. Yet, I wasn't uncomfortable. I had just made my stance clear regarding sex games and ideas. I wasn't going to offer my best ideas to him and Mariella.
"Fine," he muttered an hour later, having finished something, "Four will be here soon to help you to the toilet. I need to go check on the babies. This was fun. Maybe we can do this again."
My voice was poisonous as I snapped, "How dare you do this to me again! Again. I thought you wanted to spend time with me, but all you did was fish out my ideas for crystals. And when I refused to be an inspiration for your sex games with Mariella, you left. So you don't want to be with me. Fine, leave and don't come back, you fucking traitor. You love to crush me, you really do."
He stopped, turned around, and said, "As far as you are concerned, Mimi, you are collateral damage, your feelings, anyway. Mariella had six tiny babies, so weak that we needed to keep them sedated. She cannot hold them. We have to limit her, and I can feel it all. So excuse me if I try my utmost to help her. Your hormonally bloated body does not arouse me, but you can be inventive, but as you spin this on yourself, so be it. I am leaving, caring for my family and not even thinking of you."
I got up, disregarding the pain in my belly, and shut off the feeding tube. I dislodged the feeding drip, grabbed Damon, and dragged him out, calling for Wulfe, the Salvatores, and even Mariella to witness this, and Charles and Adam, too. They all came in.
Number Five walked up to me and said, "Baby, you need to calm down right now. Let him go, now."
Wulfe, who was my other side, had an unrelenting grip on Damon's collar. I slowly let go, unfurling my claw-tipped fingers. Damon took a few steps back, looking at me.
"He lied to me, again," I hissed, my voice filled with fury. "Came to me, made me assume he wanted to be my husband, but instead, he was a spy, just checking out if I was having too much fun, and then..."
As I turned to watch everyone, I caught my reflection. My eyes were red with slitted pupils like a cat's, meaning I was freaking dangerous. No wonder I was surrounded by very anxious men.
"Walk away," Wulfe said, his voice a low growl to Number One. "Not another word. Do not return here unless I grant you permission. I warned you, didn't I? But as usual, you ignored it. Now, look at her, your wife, pregnant with five. Yours. No one else's, but yours. And you dare, you fucking filthy excuse of a packleader, dare to do this to my unicorn? After we've spoken to you, day after day, about her state, her mental state. Just leave. Go be with Mariella and don't expect much extra help. You get only the minimum. We have a priority here: the alpha female."
Damon turned and walked away, Mariella trailing behind him.
"Now," Wulfe said to me, "listen, we go to the bedroom. We calm the fuck down, drink some very strong blood, and calm down. He was a shithead, but he's gone now. Come on, into the bedroom."
He used a significant amount of his alpha power, Charles boosting him. His eyes were almost black, but I barely felt it; I was so incredibly pissed off. When would I learn? Always check Number One's motives through his lens. Remember, he prioritizes Mariella, therefore, whatever he does must have been useful to her. Not me, never me.
Wulfe, Number Five, and Charles escorted me to my bedroom. Charles drew the curtains, and Number Five opened the bed while Wulfe helped me remove my dress. I was almost shaking with rage; I was so close to an utter meltdown, something I'd never felt before.
I was led to the bed, Wulfe pressing himself against my bloated figure as much as he could, Number Five coming behind me, and Charles was somehow partially on top of me. I was encased by men.
I hissed, "Shit, what the fuck..." as Number Five sank his fangs in, and the sedative, called velvet, started to flow, and I passed out once again like a light.
As Number One and Mariella walked back downstairs, Damon cursed silently. He wondered why he was such a weak loser, unable to simply be with her without scheming, without some ulterior motive concerning Mariella.
Mariella walked beside him, her body once again perfect—curvy and supple—but his worry for her, specifically the babies, clouded his mind. He could feel her stress, and perhaps it was this that drove him to behave so foolishly. Once more, he had proven Mimi right in the worst possible way. Could he ever truly repent? Could he ever hope to be better for Mimi, too?
He kept these thoughts hidden from Mariella, not wanting to add to her burden. He saw her as weaker, someone to be protected, maybe even loved, but he was a creature of lust. Could he ever truly love? Yet, the others—Number Five, Two, and Three, all of whom had been with Mimi—had accepted her as their truest love. Their love for her was palpable throughout the hive. If they could, why couldn't he?
Mariella said, "I know it went pear-shaped, and yes, my anxiety bled over to you, and I just can't control it. But why should I? Maybe the bigger question is why you're so damn oversensitive to my stress. What's the matter? I mean, Number Five knows when Mimi is stressed, Charles has sensed it for over a century, Adam has sensed it for Mimi's entire life—at least her supernatural life. Is it because we're lust creatures, or what? Is it Mimi, or is it us? How do we fix this? Because I want to. I know it's sweet that you're so damn attuned to me, but you know what, Damon? Sometimes it makes me feel redundant or weak. I mean, it would be nice to have someone see my stress and try to talk to me, soothe me, but no. As soon as you feel it, you don't talk, you don't ask, you just soothe, you take over. It's like I'm missing something here."
Damon was quiet, lost in thought. Perhaps there was something more, but then again, could he trust himself? Was it all because of that promise, or was it the fact that he considered Mariella his, and his alone, regardless of what Wulfe or anyone else had done? She was just his. And by God, he wanted Mimi to be just his too, but he couldn't connect with her.
He'd been so blind, failing to see that she wasn't in the mood for the kind of sexual fantasies he might have used on Mariella. Once again, he had blurted out his defense in the worst possible way. The expression on her face, in her eyes – Damon shuddered. She was in a nasty state, and he'd put her there. He hadn't realized she was so volatile, not even when Wulfe had warned him. He had, as always, assumed that Wulfe was trying to keep her away from him.
Now, the big question, or rather, several questions, loomed: how to move forward? Did he even have the right to approach her again? Had she lost any remaining trust she might have had in him because of this? In his desperation, Damon made a silent plea to whoever might be listening: to help him, to show him the way back to Mimi.