As Adam hovered next to me, still looking and taking inventory of what I had gathered, his hands grabbed my box of salted salmon.
"Mimi, my wife," he began, "have the toddlers tasted much fish, other than fish fingers? I think this might be something new for them to try."
"Well, you'll have to run it by Salvatore's first," I replied calmly, as I took my flank steaks and lined them up for butterflying. "They are the feeders and know best what to give, and I have no idea what they have planned for today. As I said, I'm off to do my own things."
I heard footsteps and chatter as others were entering the kitchen too.
Soon, someone said, "Oh, you guys are early. Well, baby, what are you doing back there?"
It was Number Nine, asking. It was fun to have ten almost-clones as husbands, but in truth, despite all of Salvatore's looking the same, they were not. Each of them had their own mannerisms and hairstyles, making them individuals.
Number Nine was one of the more dominant ones, and he might not be too happy about my treats, as he was on kitchen duty and usually wanted me to come into the kitchen to eat, whatever I was doing.
My voice remained calm as I explained, "I'm preparing both my breakfast and lunch, as I'm on paperwork duty today. I have arrangements to make and orders to plan, so I'm making a snack to avoid constant trips to the kitchen. This way, I actually eat more." I hoped my explanation would appease him.
Nevertheless, he strode beside me, his gaze falling on the piles of packages and meats. His ice-cold blue eyes zeroed in on my prime rib.
"And that prime rib, that's a nice chunk of meat. I'll take that, thank you very much. It will be our dinner, or at least part of it. Are those bavettes or something else?" he inquired, gesturing to my flank steaks.
"Just flank steaks," I replied. "I'm going to butterfly them and then sear them. I had planned the prime rib for breakfast, but I have options. I'll also be making filled buns for my lunch," I added, pointing to my salted salmon and salmon fillets. "You could throw those salmon into the smokehouse, or prepare them as food. I just brought them for variety, in case our toddlers are in the mood for challenging meal times again."
My voice stayed calm, and I concealed my irritation as Number Nine selected my prime rib, along with most of my other meats, and carried them to the fridge, as he was on kitchen duty.
Soon, the sharp, almost acidic scent of passionfruit enveloped me. Number Five, the one most attuned to me, wrapped himself around me just as I was about to slice my meat.
"Don't butterfly them. The boys will fix your breakfast, and then we'll eat, my love," he murmured into my ear. "Is it your paperwork and flower duty today? I have some spare time, so I will pop in to help you out."
The sharp nick of his fangs as he bit my ear made me shiver. He was incredibly possessive and loving, always sensing the hive's collective emotions and my own mood. In all honesty, he was a near-perfect version of Damon, and I couldn't have asked for more.
He noticed my salmon slices and, turning to Number Ten, who was also in the kitchen and on feeding duty, said, "Ten, check these out! Salted salmon. Might be new to the kids. It's good to introduce some novelties."
He then gestured to me, adding, "My naughty baby wife here was planning to fill some buns for herself as she has paperwork and flower jobs, so she wouldn't need to come into the kitchen."
Number Ten responded, "Silly wife, of course you come to eat and see the kids, or else I will bring them into your flower room."
I rolled my eyes, picturing the chaos they would make there. Those children were so active; most of our drawers were now locked because they loved to find an open one and empty it. If they ever managed to get into the kitchen, pots, lids, and even mugs would go missing if we weren't paying attention, as they would grab items and move them elsewhere. Let's just say that a few days ago, Number Four had to create five tracking spells to find kitchen items after the toddlers had been in the kitchen for an hour or so.
He kept me still in his grip and crooned to my ear, "My love, my wife, my soulmate, would you grant me the honor of making you breakfast? I want to cherish and pamper you, my love. But I don't want to be too pushy, so how about you show me what you have, and I'll prepare your breakfast? That way, you'll have eaten something by the time Five wakes up."
I sighed. He just knew what to say, how to say it, and how to make me feel so incredibly important.
"Well," I replied, "I have some pork neck here, and my meat scraps, as I was planning to make meatballs. I also have lamb neck fillets, a bag of goodies for Wulfe, and my flank steaks, as well as horse tenderloin." I showed him most of the meat I had brought with me, along with the salmon fillets.
Number Ten came over and snatched the pork necks and tenderloin, saying, "I'll toss these into cream and put them in the oven to cook low and slow; they'll be good for dinner. Those lamb pieces, give them to me, I'll make steaks, filled ones from them."
He planned as he piled my meats onto his station.
Number Five then said to me, "You, my love, grind those scraps, and I'll fry steaks for us. The boys will put the salmon to smoke, and we can test the salted versions for the toddlers if they're in a difficult mood again."
I nodded and went to the fridge, planning to fry my ground patties on the stove rather than in the oven. I grabbed my special spread, which I intended to use on my buns, as I was planning to have some. This spread, which I had made a few days prior and stored in a large container, was a mixture of 80% Wagyu butter, 10% full-fat yogurt, 10% full-fat cream cheese, and a blend of herbs and onions. It was perfect, and there was plenty left.
However, just as I took it out, Damon—number ten—wrapped himself around me. He kissed my neck, then with one hand, he plucked the container from me, opened it, and smelled its contents.
"I see," he crooned, his voice brushing against my ear, "I have a naughty wife in my arms."
His speech was more clipped than that of numbers five or two, who were usually more relaxed in their manner, though no less dangerous. He and number nine spoke almost like Englishmen—sharply, strictly, and clearly. As I've mentioned, each of them had their own quirks, and while one might perceive their speech as similar, these subtle differences were what I noticed.
So, my spread was gone, and he still held me in his grip, cooing at me almost a bit too sweetly, laced with a hint of displeasure.
"Baby," he murmured, "you know that we know your nutrition best. So why on earth would you make these kinds of spreads for yourself without consulting us, your dear husbands? Surely, my love, you are wiser than one who obeys her desires and not her reason."
I rolled my eyes and calmly stated, "Damon, I am hardly perfect, so yes, I do go with my instincts. But I have an idea. Have we tried blended soups for the toddlers? I mean, if we can make something like chicken soup, thicken it, and blend it into something almost smoothie-like, they could sip it like broth. It would give them nutrients, keep them full, and add variety to their diet."
He muttered, "Good idea. We need to test it a bit."
I hadn't noticed May and Emmylee enter the kitchen, but then I heard them. Knowing they were much like me, and that they tended to tell the Salvatores everything, May asked, "Mom, do you still have any of that fish soup left? The kind you made when you were expecting Sadie? I know we made a lot and put some in the freezer, and it might be a good option for the babies too."
Number Ten squeezed me tighter. "Oh, secrets, really, my wife," he growled in my ear.
It was a well-known fact that the Salvatores disliked my eating my comfort food: a milk-based fish soup with pollock, onion, potatoes, butter, and salt. According to them, it was too light for me, its fatty acid ratio was utterly wrong, and it strained my gut. Consequently, every time they heard I had eaten it or planned to, I was met with displeased reactions, which they made clear to me.
Some might view this as overcontrolling, perhaps even bordering on abusive. However, we are not human. The Salvatores possess the best knowledge of my physiology and my needs. They also have an instinct to provide the best food for me, as they are my supposed protectors.
In the supernatural world, protectors are those who will guard, care for, and not listen to arguments when fulfilling their role, which becomes an obsession. I know this well, as I am the protector of ten of them. Therefore, I understand their needs, and having ten very demanding proteges can be overwhelming at times.
Yet, I've taken a rather stern approach and don't hesitate if they neglect their bodies, like forgetting to take a dump regularly and becoming blocked. I simply give them a laxative that will ensure they empty themselves. Let's just say that experiencing the merciless work of my laxatives once provides ample motivation to visit the bathroom, at least until the memory fades or something else arises. I always have my next dose ready.
My role as their protector means I instinctively prepare the best food for them, even if I initially intended it for myself. Therefore, when I entered the kitchen with certain types of meat, the Salvatores knew they would also benefit from it. Being excellent cooks who happened to love cooking, they were more than ready to prepare meals from whatever I brought.
I was getting ready to grind my meat, and as I walked to the cabinet to grab my seasonings, I planned to season the meat as well. However, Number Two stopped me. He grabbed me and kissed me as if he hadn't seen me in ages. The kiss was such a passionate, longing expression of his feelings toward me that I could do nothing but respond with all my heart and pour my soul into him.
We kissed for what felt like an hour, but finally, we stopped, both of us panting a bit.
He then said to me, "You just grind. We'll season; we'll use some of it in a few dishes. So grind as much as you have, and I'll see if I have a bit more for you."
I just nodded. It wasn't the first time I had been kissed into submission, and it was as wonderful as ever. I was a creature of love, and this felt like what I was living for – to be loved by my husbands, no longer an outsider looking in, but the very heart of our pack.
Though it was sometimes a daunting, scary thing, I had slowly gotten used to it. This was my place, my position to uphold, and my pack to protect and cherish. I finally went to the meat grinder and started it. I was making a pretty coarse grind, feeding all the bits and pieces into the machine. Soon, the ready mince was dropping into the vat below, only to have one of the Salvatores come and get it.
I wasn't entirely sure if there would be anything left for me, so I went to our bigger fridge, where more meat scraps awaited grinding, and took a few bags with me. While I was at it, I decided to make more. After all, the extra mince would be easy to portion and freeze.
It seemed the Salvatores had many applications for ground meat, especially since we only had a limited amount. Whenever someone was free to grind, we had something to use, and as I was now feeding meat into the machine, my efforts were most welcome.
At some point, Wulfe also came in and became busy with the stock, adding the joints and bones I had brought to let our stock boil a bit more, allowing more goodness to leech in. The kitchen slowly filled with different aromas, chatter, and grunts.
As telepaths, the Salvatores didn't always talk out loud but rather grunted and harrumphed, discussing things telepathically. It was irritating, I must admit, but then again, who was I to tell them how to converse?
As I was occupied with my own activities, others were busy cooking and preparing breakfast. Periodically, someone would bring me something to eat, meaning I didn't need to go to the table yet. We would eat together, even with the toddlers present. They would offer me bits and pieces, filling me up, and sometimes they would even snack on my blood.
This was done so that one of them could get a more accurate reading on what I was lacking and in what quantities. After all, since we were all vampires, this was the best way for them to do it. The kitchen was filled with the comforting and safe atmosphere of homely smells and sounds, and I truly began to appreciate our lives. This time was going to be amazing; I loved our family life.