Chapter 223: 23. Step By Step.
"Mimi, please, your clothes are scattered all over the room again. Can you please clean up after yourself? It's not that difficult to put them in the laundry chute!"
Dresden's tired voice echoed in my mind as I stood in the shower. I sighed internally, deciding not to bother responding. We were executing my plan, with a few modifications based on Damon's instructions. I hoped that everyone else had a good time, although I must admit I had quite an enjoyable experience myself.
However, those who didn't live with me seemed to encounter some difficulties. I had been gone for five weeks, and it took them some time to recover from purifying my rage. I could tell that the Salvatores, especially the first one, had taken their fair share of it.
But that was alright; I would create a new one. This time, instead of wells, I envisioned large tanks or vats, which were believed to be more sturdy according to Wulfe, Damon, and the others. Since I didn't create them myself, I couldn't blow them up, even if I wanted to. Wulfe seemed quite smug about that fact.
I tried to figure out why Dresden was in my bedroom complaining about my clothes, and then it hit me: I must have left some clothes in the gym's dressing room after my last workout. Only a few days remained until the swap.
It was ironic that my houses, or mansions, happened to be the farthest distance away from the others. Without teleportation or a portal room, few visitors came by, only phone calls. To my surprise, Mariella called almost daily and complained about various things. She was also working during these past few weeks.
In the first two weeks, she worked as a teacher, and somehow, someone in her group kept informing Damon about her whereabouts. Damon, being the person who he is, didn't work anywhere but instead drove around. Since he lived in the neighboring state, he often parked outside Mariella's school and glared at her. As a result, she had to dress very conservatively and behave extremely modestly to avoid Damon's threats towards her, her colleagues, and even the potential closure of the school. She had no choice but to comply.
During my first two weeks, I had the opportunity to work as a photographer intern at one of the most famous photographers' studios. The photographer himself was quite attractive. However, when Charles started chauffeuring me to and from work, he realized I was off-limits.
Nevertheless, he expressed an interest in taking pictures of my various forms, so I allowed him to do so. It was actually quite beneficial to have these pictures, as they allowed me to identify any potential issues with my transformations. Meaning if there was a problem like my stance or something. And for identification purposes, I planned to give copies of them to the NSA just in case if ever there would be a case that I would have to be in my feline forms. They would know what I looked like.
Soon enough, Adam informed Damon about the pictures, which were promptly scanned, filed, and shared with him. These pictures held great importance, as Damon wanted others to have their pictures taken as well. He took on the responsibility of finding photographers and instructing them on the specific pictures he required.
My current job involved being an instructor in various group rehabilitation programs. While the majority of my groups consisted of men, there were also war veterans and individuals injured in the army. This collaboration was partially facilitated by the NSA, who had an interest in including me in these groups due to my status as a celebrity in the army and the NSA circles.
Rumors were circulating about me, which made things quite interesting when I walked into my first lesson. The men initially greeted me with hollers, convinced that I was in the wrong group. However, within ten minutes, the hollering ceased, and the grunting and cursing began as they were put through their paces. My time with Magnum had given me an array of inventive expressions to whip them into shape.
Exhausted, I stood under the water, listening to Dresden complain about my clothes. It occurred to me he probably wanted to see me naked as I walked to take my clothes off. However, I had left them in the dressing room because they were sports clothes and constant washing would not do them any good. If they had a problem with my clothing choices, I would offer them some advice, and point out a few irritating things about them instead of.
I was sharp with the feedback; I had given to Constantine, who loved putting his sweaty feet up on the living room table while watching TV. Despite my numerous attempts to address the issue, he continued to ignore the fact that feet harbor countless germs. It was truly disgusting. I even tried providing him with a footstool, but no, his feet were always there, infuriating me. The best solution to avoid screaming about it every day was to simply stay out of the living room.
One thing that really annoyed me was when I tried to prepare food for myself to eat at my job—like buns and other quick meals—only to find the guys in the kitchen eagerly snatching my ready-made buns or cutlets off the table while I was cooking. I wanted to get into good physical shape, and while my mind felt better, I wasn't fully there yet. Maybe I never would be, and I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
Tim and Taylor were good to work with, but not so great when it came to living together. Neither of them was particularly tidy or eager to clean or cook, and since their protector had limited time to cook, they kind of expected me to prepare meals. I had just stepped out of the shower, wearing my bathrobe and drying my hair, when the door to my room opened, and Tim peeked inside.
"Oh, it's you. I was just wondering when dinner would be and what you have planned for us," he said.
I couldn't help but respond, "I am not your mother. If you're hungry, make your own food. I'll see if I have time to whip something up for you."
He replied, "Well, since we can't order in, and Damon has forbidden fast food, our shelves are kind of empty, and this supernatural food thing is all new to us…"
I rolled my eyes and said, "I'll see if I can make something. But next time, knock unless you were intending to see me naked." Tim just grinned, much like Jake used to.
I had just finally put on my clothes when my phone rang. It was Damon—though it wasn't much of a surprise since he called pretty regularly, too. He was checking up on me, too.
I answered and said, "Yeah? What is it, Damon? I'm busy with a group of babies who can't cook."
He grunted and said, "Well, I'll see if some Salvatore has time to make them meals. I just wanted to inform you we've had several sightings of fear demons near your workplace, so you might want to take a few days off."
I rolled my eyes and replied, "Damon, I told you last week that Constantine is with me until I get in, and then he keeps them away. There's no need to worry."
He said, "Yeah, but baby, be careful. If there are 20 fear demons, Constantine is just one guy. Can he protect you from them all?"
I kept my voice patient. Damon's motives, even though he liked to present himself as a caring boyfriend or pack leader, were obvious. The threat of fear demons had been blown out of proportion since he learned I was a physiotherapist for young men with injuries. I guess the mere thought of me doing gymnastics in front of strange men was a little hard for him to handle.
I knew that Tim, who was working on a magazine learning the ins and outs of making one, and Taylor, who was back at the car repair shop, had no such concerns. Dresden had found a job at a local casino, performing magic tricks, while Constantine kept busy by making sure I was secure.
I said to Damon, "It's only three more days until I switch over to Michigan's castle to live with Wulfe and the others. How about you? Have you taken on any jobs?"
Damon's voice was a bit sharper. "No, you very well know that when you dumped these damn threat reports on my lap, they just keep on coming. Once I deal with a few of them, someone reports something new. When will this end? And, by God, that clinic—consultations one after another. Is it always like this?"
I chuckled and replied, "It is, and even more so. Add to that everything that lands on my desk if I'm working with fleas. So maybe now you have a little idea why I sometimes sat behind my desk for six months and didn't notice the time passing."
Damon grunted and said, "You can be sure, Missy, that as soon as you're able and ready, you need to pull your weight too, not just make me do everything."
I responded, "Love you too, but I have to go. I'm tired as hell, and those four keep nagging for food."
Damon, now speaking with a much softer voice, said, "Don't worry. I'll put together a big pot of two and five, so there will be quite a few portions. Tell them it will be ready in two hours. I need to call 'Ella next and ask if she wants something different for the wizards. Two hours, baby. And you too, I love you but try to eat. I'm not sure if we'll be this busy all the way through with each group, but we can continue where we left off later."
He ended the call. He cared, perhaps even truly loved me. As for number one, he was like a weathervane—one minute confessing his never-ending love for me, and the next minute dumping me to be with Mariella. I took what I could get.
Number two, on the other hand, was someone whose love and devotion I never questioned. He sent me naughty texts, a bit of playful stalking, and classic messages. I felt a sense of being chased and hunted every time I entered my workplace just for a few minutes, as he kept an eye on me. It felt different, reminiscent of what number one used to do, and he made sure I knew he was interested.
As I sat in my bed, looking at my phone, I had to admit it even to myself: I loved him. I loved Damon in all his versions. From number one to number ten, each of them was distinctly unique, and I could identify them by their mannerisms and behavior without even needing to see their hair. I wondered if Mariella could do the same, or if this ability was just a skill I had developed over time.
Just then, someone knocked on my door. "Come in," I called out.
It was Taylor. He looked at me and asked, "I was just wondering about the food?"
I replied, "The Salvatore's are on it. In two hours, we'll have food. Make some sandwiches in the meantime if you're starving, but they're preparing a couple of big pots for you."
"I need to go to the dressing room and retrieve my clothes. Dresden has an issue with them," I continued.
Taylor grunted in response as he surveyed my room, which was a mess, with clothes scattered everywhere. I planned to pack some things because I would be moving to Michigan soon. I was fairly certain that my two weeks with Wulfe and Magnum would be easier than this, but then again, that was just my assumption. We would have to get used to each other, and I figured this was the best way to do it.
Taylor walked away, and I texted Mariella that at some point, we would need to find time to teach these four how to cook for themselves because it was a little distracting. She replied with a bunch of GIFs, which I used little, but it seemed she had taken a crash course on how to pepper her texts with them. Good for her! I just wondered if she felt as watched as I did. Did they have as much trouble working with strange men as they did with me?
I had a gig in Michigan at a hairdresser's, which was a good place for me since the majority of my workmates were women, and there was plenty of new stuff to learn. When I told Damon about this, who arranged our placements, he sent them a list of my sensitivities and allergies to avoid any surprises. It was simple: we needed to tell him what we wanted to do, and he would set us up. As the pack leader, it also boosted the pack's reputation, and him being my protector was part of the deal—making sure my placement didn't pose any threat.
I sat there for about ten minutes until Dresden himself came to my door and said, "Are you going to get your sweaty, stinky clothes out of there, or do I need to torch them with a spell?"
I got up and walked to grab my clothes. In this little sociological experiment, my status as alpha female meant nothing, and they had no respect for me—or at least, it didn't seem that way. They had just assumed that since I was the only one who could cook decently, I would be doing all the cooking. But that wasn't going to happen; we were all learning together.
It was lovely to have the opportunity to work on something new. Even though my life was filled with danger, from fear demons lurking nearby, evil medical institutes looking for me, and Sark and Krychek on top of that, not to mention Project Omega and all the complications it brought. It was just my life, and I had gotten used to it.
I felt and knew I was never safe, not when I was walking in public places. I had to take measures to keep myself secure. In fact, I was even more secured than the President of the USA! But my guys weren't the ones dressed in black, jogging alongside me with shades on. They could be slouchy-looking guys walking a bit behind me or a tall, dark man strolling nearby. The fact was, there were always pack members around me when I went out, so not that easy for anyone to get me.
I reached the gym, collected my clothes, and put them in the laundry chute. Well, I could put the washing machine on. I walked back to my room, gathered all my clothes, and put those into the chute, too. Then I made my way downstairs to the washing room in the cellar. We had an enormous machine and a small machine there, so I started by putting my clothes into the bigger machine. There weren't many clothes from the boys and wizards; they only washed once a week and usually used the smaller machine. I had also tossed in my bed linens because I liked to have a fresh set of sheets and other bedding regularly.
My fabric softener had such a lovely scent, and my washing tablets were scented too. The boys and wizards used unscented products, which was a no-go for me; I wanted scents around me. I set my drying washing machine to run, knowing it would take about eight hours to wash to dry. I could pick everything up in the morning or the next day.
I walked back up and felt a sense of happiness for what I had accomplished. I went to my room and made my bed, even though I knew I wouldn't sleep. My nightmares still haunted my mind, and I couldn't shake their warning. I had to heed it. There was no way I would allow myself to become a mere breeding machine for Damon, enduring weeks of breeding and then months of giving birth, or end up submerged in a tank while Samuel and Bran tried to rid me of my vampire side for good.
I hadn't told anyone about this, and I intended to keep it that way. The big question was whether I could keep it hidden during the next two weeks while living with Wulfe, Magnum, Murdock, and Colin. Only time would tell, but I would certainly try. There was no need for them to see just how messed up I was—or maybe still am.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone