I was calmly walking towards the kitchen with my kit. It had been a week, and I was in an almost constant good mood; this was truly fun. First, Mariella, jealous, took Damon downstairs for multiple reasons as soon as I let her go. I wasn't overdoing anything; I was just following the manual. Then, my fun began.
As an alpha female, I am not easy, and I am cunning, which presented many opportunities for my little trick: not obeying Damon. I had twisted it to obey number two, or five, or Adam, or Charles Wulfe, but not number one. Well, there was little need, as Mariella kept him busy.
"Mimi, where are you going and what the fuck are you carrying?" It was Mariella, who asked me, sounding very irritated.
Damon walked calmly next to her, and by his expression, it seemed he had put her in her place.
I replied, "Worry not, I am not overdoing it. I am just doing a few little jobs that I remembered. Well, since Adam and Charles are shopping today, and Ashley and Britney are at the occult shop, there are fewer people to help, and the children need tending. So, I am just doing these little things that I recalled. My kit," I explained, "is a calibration kit. I am off to calibrate the thermometers for the oven, sauna, and heating system. This has never been done before, and Magnum showed me how it's done. It should be done every other year, and since Sadie and the others are soon turning two, I reckoned it was time to do this, and I happen to be free."
Damon grunted and said, "Why don't you hand me the kit and do something else?"
I responded, "Are you free? We need to cook. Adam thought we had roast left from yesterday, but as I packed their lunchboxes, it's not enough, so could you whip something up? I am going to overdo it."
Damon grunted again and said, "Fine, but first, let me do the calibration. I'll tell Mariella what to prep, and you can help her. I can take over once I'm done. Now, how is this done?"
I smiled innocently and sent him directions. He took the kit from me, placed it on the table, and opened it.
Mariella stood in the middle of the kitchen and asked, "So, what do you need us to do?"
I replied, "We have some cooked meat in the freezer; I thought there might be less wagyu, but we have horse, elk, camel, pig, wild boar, and others if you want them."
Damon grunted and said to me, "You, find us five of the largest briskets. If there are no briskets over four pounds, go and cut them; there are primals waiting. You're not too overdone, so chop chop. Actually, go and chop; don't bother to seek. Mariella, we need pork, so start going through the freezer and fridge for every cut of pork, at least 20 to 30 pounds. If there isn't enough, go and join Mimi to cut more. I'm going to do a bit extra."
I walked into the meat locker, smiling very smugly to myself but kept it hidden from the hive. Oh my god, was I good at this? As I chopped the biggest briskets I could find and loaded my cart with ready-made ones from one of the huge freezers, I recalled we had no bones for our broth.
Well, I took three huge sacks full of joints, bones, and skin to be put into our broth. Many species! The men had used up our original broths, mixed them in, and used them for cooking, but with these, I could add more.
I asked Damon via hivemind, all innocent, "I will bring some joints, skin, and bones for the broth. Do we have organs? I have a lot of brains and kidneys here."
He replied, "Bring as much as you can, and cheeks too; they are fucking good for braising. Charles gave me this herb mix; it makes a hell of a difference. So, yeah, load up the carts and teleport them here so we can empty them. No need to push them around. If you have a few carts free, fill them all up."
I answered, "I have whole briskets as well as halved ones, and I'm adding my special cuts in. Some of them are quite small, so they fit in. It's good to stock up."
His answer was, "Make sure we have lots of skin and bones; I already have plans for them."
Fine, this was fun for me. I was good at this, meaning I could make Damon order me to do exactly what I wanted and make it feel like his idea, his command. Oh boy, I was feeling smug.
I was also quite a naughty wife, but I couldn't help myself; this was way too fun for me. My brain was busily arranging the next thing, meaning what I wanted to do next and how to get Damon to order me to do just that. My little games kept me sharp.
After finally returning to the kitchen, having pushed three full carts and now working on a fourth, I found it bustling with people prepping and making food. Number Eight approached and took my cart.
I hadn't seen Number One or Mariella anywhere and assumed they had gone off to do as they pleased, but Number Eight then said to me, "Number One wants to talk to you. He's in the bedroom across the hall, the blue door."
I was surprised and had no idea what was going on. It was amusing to see versions of Damon, each identifiable by their number and a unique hair marking—a white tuft or stripe somewhere—though I could mostly tell them apart by scent.
Just as I took a breath, Wulfe walked in, wrapping himself around me and kissing me passionately. He was his usual affectionate self, seeming to need a bit more. I was, more or less, ready for it, having already had some passionate time with Charles and Adam.
However, I finally pulled away from Wulfe's kiss and said, "Damon, Number One wants to see me, so I should go and check what's going on."
Wulfe murmured into my ear, "My unicorn, I will have you all to myself, and then we can have some real fun. No more musicals, unless you count your screams of ecstasy."
His dark voice sent a shiver down my spine, making my body react. My pussy pretty much drooled.
As I made my way to the bedroom, my mind idly contemplating the nights to come, I didn't expect what was about to unfold. I opened the door and stepped inside. Damon was standing by the window, his back to me.
I closed the door and asked, "I'm here. What's wrong? Do you need something?"
He turned to me and snarled, "Do I need something, Mimi? How about a wife who respects me, who actually wants me, instead of fantasizing about fucking with others? When was the last time you even thought about seducing me? But no, it's once again your favorites, plus dear old Wulfe."
I blinked slowly and replied, "You're jealous. Fine, I can understand that, but once again, who did what first?"
He slammed his fist on the dark mahogany nightstand, making it wobble.
His aura expanded, and his ice-cold eyes spread an intensity and menace across mine. "Oh, here we go again. Once again, the queen of innocence is already pinning this on me. And as for Mariella, I should have guessed. You're always spinning the same damn lies when you have to answer to me."
I took a breath and said, "I did what you wanted, or rather, what Mariella wanted: castrate me, stop me from working, doing chores, reducing me into some damn weakling needing some fucking book to tell me what to do and what not. I tried, I really did try to show you I can let you care for me, but once again, it was all Mariella's manipulation to ensure she gets you and sex, nothing more!"
Damon bellowed, his eyes blazing with cruel coldness. "Do not blame this on Mariella, don't you dare, I refuse that. Why can't you just admit you prefer Adam and Charles over me? Or is this one of your games, to make me, who is so damn jealous of you, suffer while you plan for everyone else but me!"
I screamed, having had enough, my voice piercing the air. "When you fucking don't want me, I can tell. You fucking well know it, you damn piece of shit, and you blame me for having my needs. What is it? What the fucking matter is wrong with you that you can't tolerate my happiness? You have done nothing but try to twist me into Mariella 2, but I have a brain in my head and the will to use it, not let you run over me for everything. It's not for me to ask you what damn panties I should wear, or what to think!"
Damon bellowed, "That is called love, you sicko! Your mind is so damn twisted it can't understand love unless you tell it how we are supposed to love you. Oh, yeah, you let Adam, Wulfe, and others choose clothes for you, but God forbid if I do it, it's blasphemy. You are emotionally stunted, an ungrateful little whore who thinks the world revolves around her. Do not fret; I'll make sure there are no blood tests so you don't have to tremble in fear when someone is trying to take a frigging tube of blood when you can pull yourself together. But you just love to be a victim and a pathetic excuse of a leader. It's a true miracle that your resistance has been operational for this long, but then again, there are actually those who know the job and let you prance and think you make a big impact on the world, saving others so nobly! And for my little book, worry not; you don't have to obey me."
He conjured the book in his hands, and it burned into ashes. He just let the ashes drop on the floor with a contemptuous sneer on his face. I was silent, fuming, my hands were fisted, my heart was pounding, and this pressure was building under my diaphragm like a bomb.
The pleasant room, with its light yellow curtains, soft grey rugs, and the scent of jasmine and roses, along with a big, comfortable bed, suddenly felt like a prison cell. I knew I had to escape, or my reaction would be unpleasant. Pressure was building under my diagram like a bomb about to go off, making my body tense, my eyes turning darker, almost black, my mouth thinning, and my aura darkening.
Damon, of course, noticed this and sneered, "Oh, you're about to throw another tantrum; it's so typical of you. You use your rage as an excuse not to admit your mistakes and own up to being wrong. But no, no one can say anything to you, or else Miss High and Mighty will unleash her rage and hurt someone. I've had enough of your manipulation, your ungrateful attitude, and this damn bond you forced upon me. I am not weak, and I will make sure that bond is closed, perhaps permanently. I can even put a hex on it and give you a nice dose of pain if you try to wrench it open."
He glared at me, slapped my face with the heel of his hand, snapping my head to the side. As he stormed out of the room, I heard him tell Mariella that they were better off living downstairs and not to mess with freaks with poor impulse control.
I stood there, feeling an immense pressure, a volcano bubbling and churning behind my sternum and in my stomach. I knew I needed to go to my special room, and soon. I didn't want the children to see me in this state, as, to be honest, I felt feral, incredibly pissed off, and my dear old, ever-so-strong supernatural white-hot rage was about to boil over gloriously.
This special room, which I was planning to visit, was located on the lowest level, near the maintenance room, tucked away deep inside. It was my rage room. It was designed for exactly these kinds of situations, created by Magnum, Alaric, Murdock, and Dresden.
Naturally, it wasn't just a standard room; every punch, kick, and hit would be measured and logged. Data was important, even for me, so I could understand the force of my blows when my rage took over and analyze its effect on my physiology, such as muscle fatigue or accuracy.
I wouldn't care about being sloppy; I simply needed to punch, hit, scream, and expel this damn volcano from within me, letting it erupt. It was certainly not the time to listen to someone telling me to hold it in or to suppress it, as this situation was far too intense.
I had evolved, or perhaps learned, and it was no longer automation, that this was not on me. My mind refused to take the blame; those times were gone. I had no plans for the future, no aspirations beyond immediate needs, and no limits when it came to this. If anyone tried to stop me, I would tell them to fuck off.
All I had to do was hold on long enough, inform someone I would be unavailable for an unforeseen period, and then I would let them know when I was available again. I wasn't in the mood to tell anyone what had happened. Now was only the time to react, and to react as violently as I could.
For some reason, I wanted to do this alone. However, one can never be certain if life is about to throw another curveball, and perhaps that wouldn't be so bad after all.