Damon groaned. A headache slammed between his eyes, and it wasn't because of his fangs. Nope, it was a fucking nasty velvet hangover. His neck ached, and he felt beaten to a pulp as he finally woke on the cold concrete floor. It took him a moment to parse what the hell had happened.
It was Mariella's syrupy-sweet voice that delivered the lesson Mimi hadn't: it was customary during these things for the target to try and escape. He'd made a number out of Mimi, yet she had overwhelmed him. So many things rolled in Damon's mind.
He was a fucking millennia and a half old vampire wizard, an interrogator long before Mimi's family even existed, yet this damn little red-haired vixen had taught him a lesson of a lifetime. Fine, he was learning his lesson. He finally managed to sit up, puking on the floor as the damn velvet made him so nauseous.
Smug Mariella refused to come and help him, her voice almost mocking as she asked, "My dear husband, surely you can get rid of the velvet and get yourself up without help, or do you really need me to come and hold your hand?"
Damon grunted, irritated. He didn't like being made a lesson, but as he analyzed the situation, he noticed his erratic rage popping out, and his reason had flown. Good lesson, damn good lesson, and he swore to remember it next time.
But now he faced the next hurdle: what did he want to do next, once he got himself back together? Would he go with Mariella, sing between her thighs, and forget this damn lesson, or was he alpha enough to move on and try to get his alpha female under control once and for all? But how? Push her too much and this happened, or something else? She had been without limits for way too long, and now this took some doing. And then there was Mariella's pregnancy, as well as Mimi's. He hoped she was still pregnant, as he hadn't even thought of that while his rage took over.
As Mimi Salvatore, the alpha female of our pack, I was in the kitchen, preparing treats for myself when Mariella walked in.
She announced, "Our dear husband just came back online, and he's not thrilled about his condition. Let's see what he'll do, and what are you doing here?"
Toddlers were running and screaming in the next room with the girls and a few Salvatores, while I was busy making mini terrines for myself. I didn't notice Charles walk in. He was clearly in a foul mood, having witnessed my little treat-making session. Although I was still bruised and sore, my smugness seemed to entice him, just as it did Adam.
Suddenly, I gasped as a strong hand clamped around my throat, pulling me against his body.
His velvet voice murmured, "Now, honey, you're pregnant, and I'm not sure those are optimal for you, since you didn't ask permission."
His other arm locked around my waist, trapping my left arm. He was on the edge of escalating, and his crisp apple scent hinted at a potent dose of chocolate, signaling a lustful mood. If I'd been a "little bitch," he would have dragged me to the bedroom for a rough encounter. Mariella stood nearby, smirking.
*Hmm. Could I redirect Charles's attention to Mariella? Not sure yet.* I was pressed tightly against Charles, who was already in a heated mood, and this only intensified it. *Well, let's see where this goes.*
He'd been with me during the night, here and there, but he'd also been taking driving gigs and hadn't always been home. Now, he seemed more than willing to "fuck my brains out."
However, I heard footsteps, and our banged-up number one walked towards us. He looked at me coldly, and I sensed that he wasn't completely well yet. It seemed my velvet had given him a bit of a hangover.
I smirked at him, feeling smug, but Mariella spoke crisply to Charles, "You, Cornick, don't even think about hurting Mimi. You need to eat and rest, and I need to talk to Damon about you working so hard. You're burning the candle at both ends, and I refuse to stress about you while I'm pregnant. So, zip it, let Mimi go, come sit down, and let me give you something to eat, then go take a nap for at least a few hours."
Charles whispered into my ear, "When I don't want to, my love, I had planned to reduce you to a whimpering mess, but she seems kind of tense."
Damon's voice was equally articulate. "As for Mimi, she needs to eat a heck of a lot, so yeah, let her go. I need to make something more suitable for her than whatever she was planning. I am not feeling too perky, and I really don't need to add to that when my radar screams about my pregnant wife, who pretty much lured me to beat her up and poison her so she could rough me up as well."
Charles rolled his eyes, but he didn't have much time as Damon walked up to us. As Charles let me go, Damon sank his fangs into Charles's neck, draining his blood in a very naughty way, making him wet himself.
When Damon finally stopped, Charles was panting, and Damon muttered, "She wasn't lying. You're loaded with stress substances, and your list of deficiencies is impressive, Cornick. So, go sit down. I'll make sure you both eat as you should."
I took a breath. Charles muttered something about us being Romeo and Juliet. I couldn't help but smile, but I focused on my terrines. I had my meat mix, my organ mix, my tallow, and my Wagyu slices ready. I was actually making pretty decent food for myself.
Soon, Damon walked behind me, grabbed me, and pulled me against him. I snarled, as my ribs had taken a hit and not yet healed. However, I soon felt warmth emanating from his hands as he used his healing magic to heal some of my injuries.
But he was burning calories, which set off my protector radar alarm. I rolled my eyes. "Do you really have to burn your calories so my radar gets alerts too? Fine, I had a meal reserved for you as well."
He grunted quite heatedly, "Oh, baby, you are wonderful when you are this bossy. Do I need to remind you what it does to me?"
A roll of his hips made it absolutely clear, as his hot, hard cock ground against my ass and back. Lustful, much?
"Time for some distraction," I thought darkly.
I said to Damon. "Well, you didn't break me, but I can break you, and easily. I don't have to lift a finger. I'm just so good at what I do."
Damon murmured in my ear, "Oh, please baby, I am not that easy, but please show me your skills, maybe I might learn something new."
He was laying a trap for me, too. After Wulfe had told him I was really good when I needed to be, Damon, curious and greedy, always wanting to see new ways of doing things, probably planned to use my technique against me later. I took the bait, hook, line, and sinker. After all, I had quite an ego as well.
I said to Damon, "Fine, after the meal, let's do a little interview, shall we? Do you recall your missions from New Hampshire and Utah, the scouting mission? Let's use that, shall we?"
He furrowed his brow and said, "But it went fine. No one got caught."
I replied, "Well, let's make it so you *would* have been captured, and I am trying to break you. You recall the mission parameters."
He nodded, not sure what I was aiming for. It would be just one more lesson for him. Time to meet the flea once and for all. I hadn't shown my skills to him before, but fine. I could do it, just show him off.
I went to sit at the table, waiting for him to give me food, while planning my little lesson. It would be good for him to learn a bit about how I operated, and surely this was also my chance to see him as a target, test his skills, and teach him one nasty lesson of a lifetime. It didn't take physical power, only skill and cunning.
I knew Damon well enough that he usually used pain and drugs to extract information from his victims, but that wasn't how I did it. Sure, I could do it, but I was usually much more cunning with my extractions.
Surely Magnum and Jarod scoffed at my style; Jarod not so much, but he would have done it faster and claimed I was too slow. But it was just how I would do it. Everyone had their own style, and what works is fine with me.
After all, it was an enjoyable little exercise, and despite Wulfe being my victim several times, I might just get him too, despite how well he was prepared for my interrogation. It helped me to get better, as they knew what I was aiming for and tried to stump me.
So, even this was a little showoff, it was also beneficial for me as the interrogator, as well as a leader, and as such, I needed to know what my people could do and how easy they were to break.
Although we would be here for ten years, my need to improve and maintain my skills hadn't lessened. I knew our lives would continue after this reprieve, and I'd need to be at my sharpest. Although the idea of being a mother and wife was lovely from time to time, I knew it wasn't feasible in the long run.
I somehow knew that once this was over, things would revert to how they were, meaning Damon and Mariella would need a "sex holiday" or something. I had to admit to myself that I might need some action as well. I was an adrenaline junkie, so I had multiple angles, not just to outmaneuver Damon, but others as well, though I wasn't declaring them out loud, at least not at the start.
There was no need for every damn Salvatore to want to pit themselves against me. After all, it was likely that in the field, I'd encounter traditional interrogation methods, meaning drugs, etc., which wasn't my style, but sometimes it was a possibility, and then it would be a useful lesson to learn, even for Damon. I had no idea if he could stump me, but I wasn't sure. If he was as good as he seemed to think, well, we would see. I was always greedy for new experiences.
Damon brought me a huge plate full of meats and sauces, fatty ones as well, and a big mug of our broth. He had tasted it as well, my terrines. He was putting them together while passing, humming as he enjoyed finding out what I had planned to use. After all, it was one of his joys to push me away and do something for me.
Fine, I would have time to cook on some days, and I wasn't too eager to slave in the kitchen for days. After all, I had my manservants for that, and a sharp glance from Damon told me just that – that he had snatched that thought from my mind, good for him, just as I had planned.
I was just thinking about everything that had happened, and yeah, it helped me when I had roughed him up. I needed to do that from time to time; it was just who I was, and I didn't apologize.
As he sat beside me and placed his hand on my belly, I suppressed an eye roll. I felt him infuse my embryos with his healing magic and vitality, ensuring I remained pregnant and that the embryos wouldn't become dormant. He seemed to enjoy keeping his "bitches" pregnant, a prospect I dreaded.
While I hoped he wouldn't immediately impregnate me again after this litter, I couldn't see the future. I decided to "go with the flow," relying on my pack for support. I realized there was no need to constantly overthink things, twisting my mind into knots. It was time for fun, to flex my mental muscles and gather information, and I knew how to do it.
My method involved getting my targets to loosen up and reveal small inconsistencies. My memory was a weapon, and it was challenging to keep up with me when I was on a roll. My seemingly innocent chatter concealed many subtle traps. I wondered what Damon thought of my demonstration, and I knew the pack was eager to witness it, which didn't lessen its effectiveness.
I'd used this technique on Wulfe countless times, and usually, I got him. Magnum was more difficult, but I'd tripped him up a few times, and he became a sore loser for it, which surprisingly made him sharper and more challenging.
"I usually get Wulfe," I said to Damon as I ate, "and I've gotten Magnum a few times, and he is one hell of a sore loser, so just for you to know."
He responded calmly and flatly, "I am not Magnum. As I said, I'm old, been around the block quite a long time, so I am not so easy. Bring your A-game, I can then tell you how to be better, buttercup."
He was smirking at me condescendingly. Mariella was eating, as was Charles, who had never seen my skills. I rarely showed them off. While we had exercises, this type of interrogation was a rarity. I was about to expose it to my pack, my people, as they were part of fleas, so it was good for them to learn this technique. Mariella might be good at this, but I wasn't so sure about Salvatore.
As we sat in our huge kitchen—which also served as our dining space—the room was dominated by a large table and chairs. Rugs adorned the floor, and animal skins, tapestries, and paintings on the walls made the space feel cozy despite its immense size. Time would tell where we'd go from here, and I hoped everything would be fine.
I anticipated this little exercise would be fun and that there would be no crisis in the near future. However, being pregnant, my pregnant mind might conjure up some form of crisis, as I could be quite a nasty person when provoked. But now, with the smell of food, the clinking of utensils, the sounds of the other pack members, and the lively energy of the kids, life was good, or rather, wonderful, I had to admit.
I had my other half, Damon, next to me, and his closeness brought me a calming serenity that soothed me without taming me. It simply gave me peace of mind without diminishing my alpha side's need to assert her strength.