"Oh my god, can't they stop? What is it now, this time?" Mariella asked Damon, as Mimi's loud voice shrilled through the air, yelling at Charles for choosing Mariella over her.
Damon stroked his wife, worry etched onto his face; it seemed to be his default setting these days. Mariella's high blood pressure, though manageable in the sonograms, concerned the doctors. They cautiously warned her that she might lose the pregnancy or they would have to induce it early if her preeclampsia worsened.
It was the end of February, and though she was in her second trimester, the situation was uncertain. They could give the babies energy shots, but then they would have to use their healing magic to ripen the babies' lungs and prepare them to breathe, a process that would take a lot out of them.
Charles, Mariella's protector, felt her worry, her pains, and aches, as Damon had told him, being a protector was important, so he let himself feel it. Mimi's pregnancy, in contrast, had no problems. She was still working and going strong despite her quite large bump, carrying five babies who each took their own space.
Of course, Mariella felt inadequate and weak. She was letting herself be pampered, but she still had her moments. Her pregnancy hormones wanted her to make Mimi feel something too, and she had an excellent way to do it.
Damon, Mimi's protector, as well as protector of the pregnancy, had been made to go with Mimi to a few of her doctor's appointments and keep her in line with what she ate. Mimi had pregnancy cravings, and Mariella wanted Damon to be aware of those, ensuring Mimi ate optimally and not just what she craved.
"You promised, Charles, you *damn well* promised to choose me, not her. And now this! You're going to take your portion of my parental leave days so you can be with Mariella? I can't believe it! From a guy I thought I could rely on, you're just as weak as the rest of them. Fine, go on, take your days, be with her, and don't come crying to me when you find yourself between her legs as one of her 'pussyslaves'!"
I didn't hold back; I was livid. Here I was, working my ass off, my bump huge and heavy, giving me all sorts of trouble, but I didn't ask anything from anyone. And now, that damn princess had taken Charles away from me, too. He was so worried about her, he even asked me to continue being the pack leader.
Fine, sure, why the hell not? I was just pregnant, and he was the worried husband of the pack's little princess, who knew just how to act to get everyone cooing and protect her. It made me pissed off as hell. I was in week 23 and 3 days, so there was still a long way to go, but damn, this was hard. And now he was doing this to me... fuck him.
My whole body tensed, my hands fisted, fury blasting through my mind. The nice, cozy, pink-shaded room where I'd been lounging faded away as I let it all burn, and I told Charles once more what I thought of him. I didn't stay to listen to his excuses. It was his choice to go and worship Mariella.
At least Wulfe and Adam, the boys, were with me. Well, they were working, but they weren't on Team Let's Pamper Mariella. I walked to my bedroom. Damon had slept here for three nights – slept, not kept me close. He'd just walked in, grunted while I was in the shower, and was already snoring when I was ready.
And I hadn't slept; I pretended to sleep in the morning so he could leave without a hard time or pangs of conscience about me. I didn't need anyone. My hormones made me extremely volatile at home, meaning my tantrums were more than normal, and I could have one to four of them daily, and the reasons were so miraculous.
Feeling tired, achy, overwhelmed, and lonely, I watched as Wulfe and Adam, along with the other boys, worked tirelessly. Most of the Salvatores, except for numbers five, nine, and ten, did not work at all, leading to a nosedive in our financial situation. The stress was accumulating for me, as well as for the men around me. Naturally, Damon started lecturing me about behaving like an adult, attempting to curb my tantrums and stop stressing Mariella. These lectures only served to infuriate me further.
I went to the kitchen, where I intended to eat. I had cravings, and then some. Salvatore, number one, was almost always on my case about it, although not always. My doctor had told me that my body was simply telling me what it needed, so cravings weren't necessarily a bad thing. However, for our resident lecturer, who loved to comment on my stomach's size, my calorie demands, and the optimization of my meals were his favorite topics to lecture me on.
But now, I wanted fish: pollock, shrimp, bechamel sauce, and elbow pasta, with a few scallops as well. The shrimp, I wanted iced, so I could feel the saltwater melting in my mouth. The pollock would be pan-fried in butter, and the elbow pasta, not the whole-grain kind, but plain yellow flour, drenched in butter.
Oh yes, and mozzarella, as well as one type of baked cheese, called bread cheese, my oh-so-secret treat that I had managed to get for myself: a special baked cheese from Finland. Oh my God, I could almost feel its unique, slightly squeaky texture in my mouth.
I went to the freezer and retrieved the pollock, shrimp, and scallops. Then, I went to a cabinet and searched for my pan, a big, heavy, non-stick, sturdy one. It wasn't like those lightweight, fancy pans the Salvatores used when they had time to cook. I hummed under my breath as I took out a knob of butter and put the pan on the stove to warm up, not yet adding the butter as I didn't want to brown it.
I smiled as I felt the little ones waking up and fluttering around my belly. Oh yes, I loved to feel their movement. Wulfe swore he could feel them too, although I wasn't so sure. When he came home, usually pretty late, he would spend the evening with me and my belly, talking to the babies and sometimes singing.
We watched TV, but Damon usually came up with all sorts of problems that took up Wulfe's time, so he rarely had time to spend the whole night with me. Adam, on the other hand, was very eager and inventive when it came to finding new positions now that my lust was awakened, and a few Salvatores were also involved in this project.
"You know what she'll do next, dear," Mariella told Damon. "It's time for you to act. It's your job, after all. But remember, Charles let her be the pack leader, so she might push you away. You need to be firm and not give in."
Damon rolled his eyes. It was time to put his first wife back in order. He wanted to be reasonable and hoped this wouldn't escalate into another shouting match. He needed to be firm, but also try to find a compromise, which, as he thought, he hated more than anything.
His worry over Mariella consumed his thoughts. Every week was crucial; the three little ones were growing bigger and stronger. Keeping Mariella worry-free and her blood pressure low wasn't easy, especially since he didn't want to drug her senseless all the time; even sedation wasn't a great option.
Mariella asked, "Why don't I go in first, and then I can tell you what she's doing?"
Damon replied, "Nope, don't bother. I'm a telepath. She's having cravings, and oh my god, I hoped she'd be more open with me. But no, she keeps what the doctors tell her to herself. It would be useful for me to know, too. According to the doctor, food cravings are important diagnostic tools when dealing with supernaturals, as females' bodies tell them what they're lacking, thus triggering cravings. But she doesn't always get it right, and besides, I know her nutrition better. Now that I know this, I can get more in-depth about what she needs, what she's after."
Mariella giggled. "Well, I have no cravings, but then again, I am pretty well filled out."
She was getting male attention every night as Damon wanted to use endorphins to lower her stress, hoping her blood pressure would ease. They were trying to heal her with their fluids, their bump, so she was well fed, but Mimi, Adam was not her protector, number five was a little too passionate in order to get her some reserves, endorphins were good for her too, but now this.
Damon and Mariella were in a peach-colored bedroom, a space Damon had created to keep her calm and help prevent her preeclampsia from worsening. He kept a close watch on her. Meanwhile, Mimi's habit of keeping secrets stressed Damon.
Now that the mechanism behind cravings was revealed, Damon used this knowledge as a tool, a sort of mental program that told him what Mimi and her babies needed and what to avoid. As he incorporated this information, his mental radar updated, becoming more sensitive. He could detect deficiencies from Mimi's pheromones, although he wasn't entirely sure if she could mask her nutritional needs.
After leaving Mariella to rest, with numbers two and three there to keep her calm, Damon went to the kitchen. He wanted to be the perfect husband for Mimi, but Mariella's situation was a lot to deal with.
I was about to enjoy my butter and open the package of pollock when a soft voice called from the doorway, "I see you have cravings. Could you move aside so I can prepare what you need?"
I rolled my eyes and replied, "I've eaten properly, yes, I have cravings, and I'm indulging them. They're not so bad."
Damon walked closer, scrutinizing my choices. "Shrimp, pollock, scallops, seafood, hmm. You need cholesterol, fish oils, and salt. I can make you a more optimized meal. And, don't use that pan; it's dangerous. And your cheeses...well, this is a new one," he commented, taking a bite of my Finnish cheese.
After eating it, he furrowed his brow. "Nope, not right now. It'll give you the runs. Later, we can use it on a salad or something, but not now. And no mozzarella either. I know I'm nagging, but I know my business, Missy, so zip it."
His entire body was tense, and I could feel worry emanating from him, not for me, but for Mariella. He took my pan and put it in the sink to cool. He then took one of their lightweight pans, put it on the stove, and added more butter.
"Sit down; I'll make you a meal. And by the way, I know about your little craving trick, telepath after all."
As his pan heated, he went to the fridge and returned with a cart full of food, including several smoothies. He handed them to me.
"Start with these. You'll get more soon. I'll also make you snack platters – small, bite-sized snacks that are good for you, and you can eat as much as you want."
I nodded. "Charles is an idiot. I know Mariella's situation bothers him too, but now he's using his paternal leave days, which he can get from my benefits, so he can stay home. I mean, she's under your care, but Charles has gone too deep into his protector instincts."
Damon just grunted, clearly understanding my meaning. It was his little manipulation that made Charles embrace his protective side more and more. When Mariella complained about Charles being too overprotective of me, Damon was living proof that one could suppress even a very strong protector side when they chose to.
I was busy with my own life, and I had a massive order to fulfill: a huge wedding. I intended to handle it as I had the time and energy, with help from the boys, Adam, and a few Salvatores, if they were around. I wasn't sharing all the details, however.
I was consumed with planning the flower arrangements, scheduling the work, and using magic to keep the flowers fresh for months, which gave me some breathing room. It was a one-woman business, but I was making the flowers for a wedding with over 250 guests – a huge deal. The girls knew this, and they were also helping me. The bride had also requested crystals in the wedding decorations, which I had promised to provide.
I'd been a bit of a jerk and hadn't told Damon anything, but one learns a lesson when they're too angry to be careful and start planning. I didn't hear Wulfe come in.
He walked into the kitchen, looking tired, and asked, "What the fuck did I just find out? Huge order? A wedding? I know you said you'd be busy and had a major deal coming, but come on, unicorn, 250 guests, wedding, crystals?"
This made Damon turn to me and say calmly, "Well, this is news to me, too. Now, baby, I know you want to be active, but there will be plenty of hands to help. Wulfe, please dig into her brain and get me the details. I'll get the Salvatores on this, too. It's good for us to have something to do."
I took a breath and said, "The wedding is in June, so there's time. And because of the magic that will keep the arrangements pristine, I have time. Plus, since I just expanded with my new greenhouse, I have plenty of room, so I can do this nice and easy."
Damon looked at me steadily, so steadily that it made me clench my jaw.
He said, "Baby, your belly is as big as a normal female would be in weeks 35-39. You will get bigger, so you might have less time than you think. Besides, this will be our business, so just deal with it. We will be on this, too."
Damon was already stressed, and now this. He reminded himself that he wasn't the pack leader; Mimi was. He intended to address that soon. Mimi was enormous, having carried the five little ones for some time. Being pack leader was a lot, even for her. He decided to speak with Charles to understand the situation, perhaps explore how he or Adam could become pack leader.
Damon wasn't confident in his own ability either. If Mariella's condition worsened, they'd have to go to the hospital for monitoring. The nearest hospital was a few hours away, meaning he might stay in a hotel or at the hospital. He wasn't sure if he'd drive home, but desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Of course, he was also stressed because he didn't feel like a perfect father to those five babies – three girls and two boys, as revealed in Mimi's belly. He felt less connected to them, while Mariella's three children were incredibly important to him. It bothered him, but he couldn't change who he was or what he felt. He couldn't be perfect.
As much as it bothered him, at least Mimi had Adam, Wulfe, and a few Salvatores. If Mariella would let her, she could also throw a tantrum, cry, and throw her system into upheaval until she got what she wanted.
As Damon presented the first tray, it held pork loins or patties with a nut crust, a few shrimp, a heavy creamy sauce, beef cubes, and crackers smeared with peanut butter and jam.
He instructed me to start with those, explaining, "You crave selenium, seafood, and certain fatty oils. Let's see if the nuts and pork can help with that. As usual, you also have multiple vitamin deficiencies, and your already low levels are being used by the five inside you. So let's get you more nutrients. As you know, your stomach can't hold much anymore – maybe a liter. We need to ensure every morsel is packed with something you need. It's not just about calories; you need nutrients too. Your energy expenditure is astronomical, and you'll be quite skinny after birth, despite what I make you eat. We'll curb your milk production pretty soon, too."
He was utterly businesslike, as usual, and returned to the stove to retrieve more plates and snack trays. I ate, appreciating his cooking skills, even though I was irritated that I didn't get what I wanted.
"Maybe some other time," I thought. "One can always hope."
Damon, having finished his preparations, sat beside me. He looked at me, and I was still eating, as was Wulfe.
His voice, though tired, was firm. "I know you might think this is about ego, but you can't be the pack leader. You're good at it, better than I have been, but you're heavily pregnant with five strong creatures, and your body is going through a lot. The pack leader position brings stress, and you don't need any more of that. I'm not demanding to be the leader, even though I have the most experience. This is too difficult a time for me to lead, or I'd be a wreck. My suggestion is Adam. And the boys, possibly. You too, Wulfe, if you want to. I can talk to Charles about this. I hope you don't see me as a jealous tyrant. I'm your protector, and I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't tell you the facts."
"Damon," I sighed, speaking as patiently as I could manage. "Yes, I'm pregnant, but I'm not an invalid. Despite the bump, I am not Mariella. A little stress is nothing to me, God knows. I can handle it. I'm the leader of a multi-million-strong resistance organization, for crying out loud. It's sweet of you to try and protect me, but you are not my protector, not right now. All you can think about is Mariella and what she wants, and she wants you to be the leader so you can crush me, order me around, and make me bedridden like she is."
Damon frowned while Wulfe smirked.
"It wasn't him who gave me my insight," I said calmly, flatly. "My five are empaths, as well as telepaths, giving me pretty nice access when their breeder tries to control Mommy. They are on my side, just as you have been distant. I'm not blaming you; you have your priorities. But remember, actions and decisions do have consequences, and once they come out, it is too late to cry over spilled milk."
Damon sighed and muttered under his breath, "Of course, you have to have five strong damn spies inside you. But fine, I admit, your leadership does rub me the wrong way. It makes my alpha side so damn restless, and it drives me away from Mariella to put you in your place, and I feel like I am torn in two."
I looked at my husband steadily, not even disappointed. I knew this and had done what I needed to do. I calmed his alpha side right away, using three pheromones. That was it. He took a shaky breath, blinked a few times, and stood up, walking away.
I grabbed my spoon and continued to eat, even though the food was lukewarm and tasteless. I knew my body needed it, even if it didn't make my mouth sing in harmony.
Wulfe said to me, "I know, I felt that my love, just how much that cost you, but I will be there. Adam is home, as well as the boys. We will care for you, and don't worry about that order. I will make sure the Salvatores don't mess it up. Mariella, in her jealousness, might try to make Damon persuade you to turn it down, and we are not going to do that."
I nodded, and told Wulfe, "Thank you, my soulmate; you are truly amazing."
Wulfe looked at me and replied, "I did promise, didn't I? I would be your husband when he wasn't able to. I never promised I'd need his approval when the time was right. It's all my decision, and right now, my love, I am your husband, your vampire half. Don't doubt that for a moment."
I was happy, in love with him even more than before. But a part of me, my soul, felt so damn hollow. Damon had never once placed his hand on my belly to feel my babies kicking. Most of the time, he treated me like a patient, or a charge, or an unruly child, not his pregnant wife. And there was nothing I could do about it. It was his choice, his burden, and my heartbreak.
There we were, just the two of us in our huge kitchen, against the world, plotting and planning. Wulfe was becoming increasingly creative with his ideas for flower arrangements, too. I had promised to send pictures of different options to my clients, and they could reserve them if they wanted, or they could request something similar using different flowers.
I just couldn't promise specific flowers right away, as it was still early spring, and it was cold in Minnesota. Not all nurseries had everything ready yet, but I would create many ideas, take pictures, and if they didn't want them, I was sure they'd sell well when photographed and added to the website the girls were managing.
As the babies kept moving, I said to Wulfe, "They're dancing. At least three of them are moving right now."
Wulfe moved closer, placed his hand on my belly, and smiled as he felt tiny flutters against his hand. I was sure these babies would have a daddy, several of them, and number one would not be one of them; that much I knew. And that was just our life: his choice, his burden, and, as always, my life.