I found myself back in the sauna, a ritual that had become routine for myself, Number Eight and Four, and Wulfe. Occasionally, other women or individuals would join us. However, Mariella was quite possessive, seeking to claim as fuckbuddies as many Salvatores as she could. She also desired Wulfe, but one night, his presence around her seemed to provoke a rather brutal reaction from all the Salvatores, leading her to release him.
Now, I was alone. The men were either showering or swimming, so I added more water to the stove, creating a dense cloud of steam. I sighed contentedly as the temperature rose again. Reaching to my side, I grasped a bundle of birch twigs with leaves and began to beat myself with it. The scent was wonderful, and the sensation was profoundly tactile. The leaves softened the blows, though occasionally, with a bit more force, they stung. Nevertheless, it brought a satisfied sigh from me.
I knew that as soon as the men returned, they would attempt to endure the heat for as long as possible, but their stamina for what I considered a proper steam was not yet sufficient. Wulfe could last a little longer, but I could even chase him out of the sauna, leaving me to enjoy my personal hothouse.
This prolonged, intense steaming invariably relaxed me, and I would typically sleep soundly. My schedule often involved day shifts caring for the babies – Adam, Charles, and a few Salvatores – while the women handled the night shifts. This arrangement worked quite well for us.
My thoughts then drifted to tomorrow's menu. I also served as one of the cooks. We now had five cooks in total, each contributing dishes. These were typically meals that could be enjoyed by many, with the protectors – meaning, largely, the Salvatores – then selecting what they preferred from our creations.
The older girls were somewhat disgruntled by the new kitchen regulations. Essentially, once a month, they were permitted to have one sub, but this had to be accompanied by a dessert rich in cream and fat, with other foods compensating for any potential nutrient loss. Consequently, they had to carefully consider whether such a concession was truly worth the effort.
Of course, there were rules for me too. I was required to consume fruits and berries daily, usually mixed with lemon or lime juice and sugar. Even my smoothies adhered to these guidelines. Additionally, if I ate other types of meat, I had to incorporate more Wagyu. Protectors would also taste my blood to ensure I had no deficiencies.
As for stress relief, let's just say the sauna was well utilized. We usually sanctified it before leaving, which was another reason I slept like a log. It was truly amazing. I had so many salvatores to show how they could control themselves; this meant we would sanctify the sauna, then go to bed and refrain from fucking for a week at a time as we were family.
Sleeping alone was out of the question. Typically, Number Eight, Wulfe, and Number Four would join me. We'd create nests, allowing our pheromones to saturate several bedrooms, transforming them into safe havens – our places. Let's just say Mariella or Damon hadn't frequented any of these; they were currently occupying the fifth floor, though there weren't many bedrooms there, the girls had made several.
As I was lost in my thoughts, the sauna door opened, and the men walked in. Number Four came to my right, attempting to take my bucket and ladle, and he looked rather perplexed at my birch twigs.
"Watch and learn, Quattro," I instructed, "this is true sauna."
I threw some steam, eliciting groans from the men, and then I began to beat myself again. Oh, it felt wonderful, and the scent was perfect.
Wulfe exclaimed, "Oh, please, let me try! That looks fun."
He reached over and snatched my birch bundle from my hands, beating himself with it and clearly enjoying the sensation.
Soon, Number Eight snatched it as well, remarking, "This works, damn, it feels good. Naughty wife not sharing this."
Number Four took it too, declaring, "Oh yeah, it really boosts those endorphins, and I love the scent. We've got to get more of these."
It seemed I had just given my husband a new hobby for the sauna.
After about ten minutes, I voiced my thoughts, asking, "Do you remember that little sex fantasy I started, the one involving drugs? I initially conceived it to see if I could use it to lessen my fear of medical procedures. However, after this accident, I'm uncertain if it would even work now, and honestly, I'm not sure I want to delve into that particular rabbit hole at the moment."
Number Four responded, "Buttercup, stop. It doesn't work quite like that, but the idea itself is solid; we just need to refine it. When you do it to yourself, or imagine it, you have certain fail-safes in your mind, so you really don't stray out of your comfort zone. You see, you need to experience it again, be helpless, let us take the lead, and now, we have a secret weapon: that blasted amaranth. Number One has managed to extract at least 56 different relaxing compounds from it, which affect you. He couldn't use them during your recovery because they interfered with other medications, but now we have some tools to help you. Perhaps someday you'll find yourself in a bit of a pickle, so to speak."
This caused Wulfe to smile too, and he moved closer, attempting to snatch my bucket and ladle again.
Number Eight then said to me, "You see, my dear, it truly doesn't work when you do it yourself. You aren't truly at the mercy of others in that situation. Instead, you need someone to do it to you, and we will. But not just yet; we need to make a plan, and then it will be a surprise for you, leaving you no time to prepare. Furthermore, we've upgraded Number Two's pendant with an extra spell crafted by Wulfe, designed to strip away your pretender side. This will prevent you from taking on roles, forcing you to simply be yourself, your raw version. And that's what we need: your rawest version to experience true helplessness, which will bring you pleasure like nothing else."
His voice remained calm as he patiently explained, not being pushy, but ensuring I understood.
I nodded, thinking perhaps it was for the best, though I wasn't thrilled about losing my "pretender power." I began to recall the first time I met Jarod, but before I could dwell on it, Number Four slammed his telepathy into that memory, making me almost jump. He flooded me with dark jealousy.
Fine, no more thinking about Jarod then; it was a bad idea. Although it was slightly amusing, Jarod remained a significant sore spot for each of the Salvatores.
What surprised me was that Wulfe, too, was jealous of Jarod. He snatched that memory, faded it quite well, and buried it deep within my mind. I simply decided it was best not to dwell on the time I first had to kill Damien, as Jarod was with me then. Again, several angry telepaths noticed this, and their memories were tagged and almost altered. But fine, this is my life.
I was considering which of my five nightgowns to wear today, as I had several that were only worn once.
Number Eight, in a rather dry voice, suggested, "How about a clean one? I'll toss them into the laundry; there's no need to stain them with your sweat."
He was referring to a night when I'd gone to sleep in a different bedroom alone and started having nightmares. I'd tossed and turned, waking up hours later drenched in sweat, then gone for a shower without telling anyone.
However, in the morning, when Number Eight came to fix my hair, he still smelled my panic and fear on my nightgown. I hadn't put it in the laundry for that reason, though my original plan was to do so on laundry day. For some reason, laundry days were always occupied by the time I went to the kitchen, yet Number Eight never mentioned it or pressured me.
I could see from Wulfe's face that Number Eight had now told him about that night, which clearly displeased Wulfe. He didn't want me sleeping alone for that reason, and I was quite sure I wouldn't be sleeping alone anytime soon.
Number Four chimed in, "Nightmares, really, babe? Well, we'll come up with a solution. The easiest one is for you not to sleep alone. We need to examine what's churning in your mind that makes you feel unsafe and ensure you always sleep with someone. And yes, we have fangs for a reason; if your nightmares are trying to push through, it's a stress-related issue that we need to address separately."
I nodded and added another ladleful of water to the stove. I wasn't overly lustful; I was lost in my own thoughts, idly contemplating making a few bouquets. There was always a need for wire wrapping and other work, and I had some ideas for expanding our jewelry line. However, I would first need to do some research to see if these ideas were feasible. Once again, my old memories from my human life surfaced, recalling when I had first encountered these things.
Number Four told me, "You have ideas; share them so we can start thinking about them."
However, I wasn't in the mood to reveal everything just yet, as I wanted to explore them myself.
But Wulfe urged, "Come on, Unicorn, out with it."
Fine, then.
I began, "I have a few new ideas. The first is a game involving jewelry. We have silver, bronze, or copper options. We could put earrings into a small pouch, bracelets into another, necklaces, and then rings. You could make lots of these small satchels. A customer would then order how many satchels they want and what kind: silver, bronze, with or without a certificate, with or without a video. Furthermore, if you add color choices, meaning clients can pick two or three out of ten available colors, and if their choice matches the satchel, they get one for free."
The men immediately began chattering eagerly about this. They discussed the types of rings and earrings they already had and how this would simplify creating new ones. Pricing was also a topic of conversation, and I added a few more ladlefuls of water to the stove, causing them to groan, though it didn't lessen their enthusiasm for my little idea. Well, they were already enthusiastically making it their own.
Wulfe then asked, "What's your next idea? As you can see, the pack is all over this one; we've already informed the girls, and they're on board too."
I rolled my eyes, feeling tired yet content with the hot steaming. It seemed I had gotten my husband all wild with some of my ideas. So, I let my concept of oysters with pearls inside, vacuum-packed, and with integrated games, seep into Wulfe's mind.
He smiled and said, "Well, that seems like fun! We could also make jewelry out of the pearls."
Number Eight asked, "What are you two talking about?"
Wulfe shared my idea with him, causing Number Eight to become ecstatic. He immediately started planning with Number Four. Both were adamant that I shouldn't handle the oysters myself, suggesting clams might have something unpleasant in store for me.
I added more water to the stove, creating a steam pillow, and now the men groaned and left the sauna, using the excuse of needing a swim. Wulfe also left, as he was quite red and sweaty. I, however, wasn't as affected; I could handle the heat and more. This was enjoyable for me: getting warm, really getting my body working, relaxing, and then sleeping like a log.
I was sitting there, my mind drifting through a myriad of thoughts – my past, my present, and even my future. I had no concrete plans for what would happen when our time in this pocket universe concluded, and it would be time to move on, taking the lessons we'd learned here with us, hoping they would prove beneficial.
I reminisced about my human life: the taste of fresh strawberries with a particular vanilla sauce, or the perfectly smoky saltiness of smoked salmon my uncle always brought me. I remembered the flowers in my yard. Certainly, my life back then was simple, and I faced my challenges, but I had to acknowledge that a part of me remained alive, even though my DNA was no longer human. Had I evolved somehow, transferring that essence to my new genetic code? I wasn't entirely sure.
For now, however, it was time to wash myself once more before retreating to my bedroom to lounge, relax, and perhaps sleep. I wasn't certain if the men would join me for sleep; they seemed too eager for my ideas. Still, I felt I could manage. My mind felt relaxed, my body warm and content, and life was undeniably fun, despite the occasional added challenges.
As for Damon and Mariella, who were seemingly fucking their way through the fifth floor, I recalled Bridgette's words on the bridge. She had described Damon as a fucking machine, and now I understood she meant he was number one in that regard. Well, let him be. Let Mariella, described as a pussy with legs, try to win over the Salvatores. I had a few lessons to teach her eventually, but for now, it was about me, my pleasure, my relaxation. It was time to learn, once again, to prioritize myself.