I was lounging in my beach chair, letting the sun bake the scent of sex, sweat, Damon, lust, and other bodily fluids into my skin. A few hours had passed, and removing this scent before my next wash would be a Herculean task. I wondered if Mariella had ever been so thoroughly infused with Mr. Salvatore's essence.
The sun's warmth was gentle in the shade, and my mind drifted to jewelry designs. I could use some of my smaller stones—like the eighteen uncut rubies I'd found on the east side—in rings.
Perhaps I could open an online shop, given the quantity. Or I could discuss it with Mariella, maybe even the wolves or Elena and Katherine, making it a pack project. However, the Salvatores—and Charles and Adam—would inevitably get involved.
I could almost envision a financial discussion with Charles, a far cry from normal, where he'd act like a public prosecutor, demanding my submission. He usually got his way. I knew Damon was wealthy, but his financial acumen wasn't what I'd expect; quite the opposite, in fact.
His girls had cost a fortune, and he'd tried to siphon my funds to support their lifestyle. So, I wasn't sure he'd be the right partner, but that was over a century ago, and he'd been pack leader—we were filthy rich, so he clearly knew something, and there were always others involved.
My thoughts wandered; I wasn't constantly dwelling on the incident. Perhaps my little tryst with their lust had unforeseen consequences. I was curious, however, if other Salvatores reacted to red jasper or other stones.
They hadn't used minerals and stones as often as precious jewels in their jewelry, so only time would tell. But this experience taught me a lesson: I wouldn't act before sensing their sensitivity to specific minerals.
My life had undergone a significant overhaul. Much of this change stemmed from love. I sometimes struggled with the concept of being a creature of love, yet I couldn't deny it. Acceptance, while seemingly easy, proved challenging. After all, I had been a killer, a beast, for most of my supernatural life.
This new life—my status as a creature of love, someone deserving and needing love—was known to our pack of thirty people, all of whom were ready and willing to love me, even Damon.
I diverted my thoughts from Damon Salvatore; he was such a force of nature, and I was tired of expending energy trying to understand his behavior. Was it the stone, or was I facing a frightening truth? Had he felt something before the stone—something deep and permanent, ignited by our horseback trip across Australia?
I questioned whether I deserved his love. I saw myself brutally and honestly, magnifying my flaws and judging myself far more harshly than others did. I perceived few redeeming qualities, especially when comparing myself to other females in the pack.
Ironically, Mariella, who was so perfectly suited to Damon, was created by my wish for him to have someone who understood and listened to him—something I couldn't provide due to the damage inflicted by his evil twin. I had once believed in the twin's existence, but his manipulation was so skillful that I'd blamed Damon entirely, believing him to be a beast. This destroyed our love and my trust in him.
Yet, my wish for his happiness had led to Mariella's creation within a god; she emerged when the time was right and became his savior. I lost Damon to her. That was a long time ago, and much has happened since. I shook my head, trying to redirect my thoughts.
Number two tinkered in Pack's jewelry-making room. He'd acquired a particular mineral—perfect to work with—seemed to absorb his lust and love, making it difficult to let go. This, he thought, might signify that his affections belonged to Mimi.
Mariella and Number One had briefly explained Mimi's island acquisition, surprising many Salvatores. Number Four, in particular, cursed Mimi's careless saw use, worrying about tiny rock chips embedding themselves in her if she cut herself. Ten and Nine urged him to stop fretting and focus on the future, on finding new materials and creating jewelry. They praised the rock tumblers and Mimi's extensive mineral collection.
Seven and Six, usually quite lustful, retreated to the library to study mineralogy, gemology, and jewelry-making techniques. Although Mimi had initially acquired the books, Pack's library rules dictated that all books belonged to Pack, allowing the others to begin their studies.
While working, Number Two reflected on each of their relationships with Mimi, not out of curiosity, but possessiveness. Although similar to Number One, he'd previously suppressed this possessive urge, often redirected by Number One.
However, he realized this was changing; he'd indulged his possessive side, and it was time to take the next step in his individuality while also accepting his similarity to Number One.
No longer fearing he was merely a version of Number One, he'd grown into his person, similar yet distinct. He possessed his own unique traits and quirks, which he would no longer deny. Embracing this new authenticity felt both exhilarating and slightly terrifying.
Mariella was torn. On the one hand, her navel piercing fueled a raging lust that made her want to attack everyone; on the other, a jealous envy of their knowledge, as they began to read, overwhelmed her. She almost told them to stop, as she desired sexual gratification. Meaning she wanted them just to fuck, not read. She cursed Mimi silently.
Consequently, Number One essentially sold Mimi to Number Two, portraying her as an excellent lover—a role she had indeed played. Mariella had to give her urges and take as many Salvatores as she could secure to get her lust a little more under control. Now she was not sure how long this damn holiday would take.
Number Two proceeded with the plan, but with modifications. He crafted several pieces of jewelry from a powerful lapis lazuli stone, lust stone intended for Mimi, that absorbed energy like a sponge but released it slowly. He had thoroughly charged the stone before creating the jewelry.
Finally, it was time to see the baby. He had missed her terribly. Mariella had been a distraction, but the yearning for his baby remained constant. He had attempted to use sex with Mariella to quell this yearning, but no longer.
Now, it was time for him and his baby, but first, he had something to do—do-something he'd never done with Mariella or Mimi. The time for change had arrived, and he refused to deny himself or his desires any longer.
He prepared to gather supplies and make their nest, having identified the perfect location for the two of them. He deviated from Number One's plan, however, as his newfound pretender power and skills to use it much better than Number One had revealed a hidden motive behind Number One's choice of location.
A brief glimpse into the past had revealed the truth: he would not be their battery or their puppet. He felt a profound, permanent shift within himself, a shedding of Mariella's influence—the lingering effects of her past potions fading.
He was freer than ever before, and this freedom, he knew, was permanent and would only deepen. It was Mimi's strong, true love—a love for him, not just for Number One—that had brought about this liberation. Love, not truth, had truly set him free.
Baking in the sun, I was certain that even hours of daily swimming and showering wouldn't erase his scent. Part of me, my feline side, was actually pleased; she enjoyed being claimed by a powerful male.
My alpha side, however, was less thrilled. It's overwhelming having so many facets to my personality; they could be considered separate sides, or simply different reactions triggered by my powers. Each power evokes a distinct feeling; when I unleash my alpha power, my alpha side emerges, leaving me irritated.
Conversely, when my feline magic surfaces, my feline side is satisfied. I consider her an individual, unlike the cats that once inhabited me. She's my most animalistic side, feeling like a separate creature altogether. I wasn't even considering using my vampire power; as queen of the hive and queen of the vampires, being claimed by a male wasn't something I desired.
As I glanced at the magical tattoo growing on my forearm—a visual record of Damon's impact on our lives—the image was explicit. Again, I'd need long sleeves to conceal it from those who could see it. Humans couldn't, but other supernaturals could, including those in my resistance. Revealing the highly detailed image of Damon spanking and claiming me to them was unacceptable. I rolled my eyes as I thought of the smirk of Magnum or even Wulfe. Damn tattoo.
Overwhelmed by the surprise attack and Damon's rough claiming, I let my eyes close for a second, exhausted. However, this wasn't true exhaustion; it was clever manipulation by my husband, number two this time.
He'd induced a feeling of overwhelming tiredness, a need for a nap, far more skillfully than number one, who was usually too lazy to exert himself. As my mind relaxed, I became unaware of my surroundings until a sharp prick in my neck, a burning sensation in my vein, plunged me into darkness.
I awoke in pain, my mind a whirlwind. Cuffed to a wall, I was seated on a saddle-like chair, enduring long, deep strokes of something rough against my skin—I was being scrubbed. Trying to focus, I realized the sharper, burning scent meant this was number two.
This was a revelation, as he'd never scrubbed me or Mariella before; number one had always done it, a habit I'd attributed to his alpha side. But this was a different level of scrubbing entirely. Merciless brushes peeled my skin, followed by a jet of something hot—passionfruit and cinnamon, unmistakably his bump—scenting and healing me as he methodically scrubbed my entire backside, from heels to neck. He remained silent, even as I squirmed, though he did pull out a stool once I could stand, leaving the cuffs on.
The pain, a pinching, burning sensation between my pussylips, lingered. It took time to realize I now had a piercing on my clitoral hood. This affected me increasingly. After finishing my backside, he uncuffed me, turned me over, and handcuffed my hands behind me to begin working on the front.
His expression was stern and cruel; silent, his mouth a tight line, as he still detected Number One's scent on my skin. Looking down, I was surprised to see tiny studs in my nipples as well. Even as he groped my breasts, causing the studs to move, the pain was almost pleasurable. My nipples became so sensitive that my pussy began to drool. Shifting my weight moved the clitoral piercing, eliciting a gasp as a sudden, surprising orgasm tore through me.
Number Two's cruel smirk revealed he'd noticed, even as he scrubbed and healed my legs with his bump. His huge, hard, almost angrily purple cock was clearly ready, but he controlled himself. Just as my lust took over, and the scrubbing became almost pleasurable, I realized how badly I wanted that cock inside me.
Having finally finished grooming me—lengthening and styling my hair to his liking, adding more curls and deepening the blood-red shade—he spoke.
"Baby, it's time for one more thing. You're ripe, you see. Number One and Mariella know what you did; they found your frequency, and I've been using it, haven't you noticed? The lapis lazuli piercings in your clitoris and nipples—your luststones—are in place. Now, for the final piece: you belong to me, baby. Remember this, you are mine, and Number One can be with Mariella."
He uncuffed me—the cuffs, too, were lapis lazuli.
My voice, deep, husky, and needy, responded as I began to kiss him, "Do you know, husband mine, that I am about to rape you, and give you no mercy?"
He smirked, then smiled genuinely, his eyes lighting up. "Well now, baby, it's not really rape if I'm willing, is it? Let's see who's on top, but first…"
He reached for my right hand, produced a lapis lazuli ring, and placed it on my middle finger. A quick spell transformed it into a tattoo, its power instantly affecting me.
"I had no idea these damn stones were this potent," I gasped.
He chuckled. "Well, lapis lazuli has another bonus: it absorbs and traps energies. But it seems your frequency releases them. Too bad I infused these little decorations with my lust and love. I imagine they'll have quite an effect on you. And yes, I have my own stone, and right now…let's just say the rest of the Salvatores are eager to find theirs and see what happens. Then there's Mariella…she's going to get it, and get it good."
He showed me his finger, adorned with a ring I'd made. "My stone is aventurine," he said. "See?"
I recognized the aventurine; I remembered it being larger and more perfect before I'd been distracted as I had worked on it, and I had damaged it during the crafting, making me irritated as I had wanted to be with Damon so badly. It was chipped, but he'd clearly repaired it.
"You see, baby," he continued, "aventurine is one you can 'load up.' This one's full of your love and needs to be with me. It's an old ring, but, oh my god, baby, I could feel you."
I nodded, explaining, "I wanted to be with you. I remember being distracted because Mariella had taken you again, leaving me alone. That damn stone was chipped, imperfect, despite the hours I put into it."
He replied, "It's special, made for me, my love. Now, let's see what we'll do next."
Stepping out of the shower, I was surprised to find myself in my Monaco house, my original headquarters.
Number Two explained, "Number One—or rather, Mariella—tried to suggest a Romanian sex nest, but I wasn't in the mood to be their battery. They'd placed crystals there to drain our lust and love, so I made my own plans. This house... it's delightfully unsanctified. Time to sanctify it."
He helped me out, and we kissed, our bodies pressing together, eager to begin. I was surprised again; he'd planned this, anticipated Mariella and Number One's motives, and cleverly outmaneuvered them by bringing me here—a house Mariella had been jealous of and seldom used.
We found countless places to "sanctify," my lust fueled by his initiative. He zeroed in on my old office; my desk particularly inspired him. After a few days of enthusiastic sanctification, I doubted I'd ever work at that desk again—it was thoroughly "fucked." Our lust was insatiable; our stones absorbed the energy emanating from each other.
Lost in a cycle of lust, love, and sex, I questioned whether to allow anyone to clean our deeply sanctified rooms. However, the magnificent windows, stained with our fluids, certainly needed attention. The thought of uppity magic house witches assessing the situation amused me. I began mentally compiling a list of potential cleaners, feeling quite smug.
As I rested atop Number Two, my legs spread, my pelvis moving in lazy circles, my clit throbbing against his cock, he murmured, "My love, I think Jocelyn, Kaitlyn, and Hilda would be a good cleaning team."
I giggled; Mariella's closest friends were quite accustomed to our pack's lust. The thought of their expressions and Mariella's reaction to their report delighted me.
"Good choice," I said. "It'll be a slap to Mariella. I wonder if they can clean this mechanically? Old-fashioned scrubbing might be more effective than a quick spell."
Number Two's deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. "My love, your word is law," he said, amused. "But shall we continue for a while? I sense you're not finished."
And I wasn't. Our passion knew no bounds, sanctification, or difficulty. We thoroughly fucked our way through the entire mansion, including medbay.