I sat on The Queen, enjoying her calm gait, but my mind was far from peaceful. I was incredibly skilled at ruining my own happiness, I thought, even after my talk with Mariella. Things had changed; Damon stopped his Sunday visits. A week ago, we'd resumed our trip after everyone's…enthusiasm subsided three days earlier.
Mariella rode in front of Number One, nestled against him, utterly in love—a genuine connection, not just sex. The other Salvatores were paired off as well: Mimosa and Shadow, Elena and Katherine. I had my solitude, free from attentive husbands, yet felt hollow. Was this what I'd wanted?
My hollowness stemmed from Number One's withdrawal. Our bond was severed; his glances, rare and fleeting, held guilt and defeat. He seemed to realize our love was merely his twisted possessiveness. I maintained a neutral exterior, hiding my distress from Charles and Wulfe.
Wulfe argued heatedly with Magnum about sports; Charles teased Shadow, then discussed new projects with Adam—Mariella's plans for the Irish castle and other houses. I successfully concealed my internal turmoil, unwilling to spoil everyone else's trip. I'd had time to overthink, to tie myself in knots. I couldn't escape the rat race in my mind.
Reviewing our history, I saw my mistakes, how I'd become Damon's possession, not his beloved wife. I was trapped in a vicious cycle of guilt, self-blame, and doubt, spiraling into self-hate. I felt increasingly miserable as a wife, and I couldn't blame the men for being fed up. They'd tried, but I'd reacted like a teenager, complaining when truly loved, seemingly incapable of recognizing or reciprocating affection. It was my superpower, so to speak.
As days turned into weeks, my inner conflict intensified, and some found it increasingly hard to ignore. Our hive made it so as my MDNS seeped into the hive, and Number Two, meanwhile, was plagued by a nagging feeling he'd suppressed for days. He'd first noticed this change three weeks prior, initially dismissing it as Mariella's reaction to Number One's relationships with others, as the two were inseparable. As sometimes Mariella's jealousy was picked up by their telepathy as it was strong, but this was not coming from Mariella..
However, while camping, and with Number One by the fire, Mimi and Mimosa had got kangaroos, but Number One absolved Mariella of her usual seed and fruit gathering duties. Instead, after hunting, Mimi and Mimosa also gathered the provisions, a task Number One deemed unimportant. He was favoring Mariella, and for what?
Number Two wondered if Number One was tired of the trip or Mariella was tired of being a pack member in the wilderness, but that wasn't it. When Mimi and Mimosa returned with their bounty, guilt was etched across Number One's face. This led Number Two to conclude that Mimi had again said or done something that Number One had silently endured.
Mimi, withdrawn and sleepless for over two weeks, spent her nights hunting, often returning with piles of eggs. What struck Number Two as odd was that Wulfe and Charles, usually attuned to Mimi's moods, showed no concern. Yet, he felt a growing unease.
For several days, he'd suspected Mimi was the source, and now it seemed she'd masked her distress from Wulfe and Charles, but not from him. He knew he had to address this assertively, yet cautiously, creating a safe space for her to confide in him while simultaneously controlling his anger towards Number One and Mariella. He wouldn't confront Mimi directly, but needed a plan to keep her close.
Number two sat beside Mariella while Number one fetched more food from the fire. Over the years, he'd gleaned insights from Mimi, learning that influencing Number One was best achieved through Mariella. Mariella would relay everything to Number One without fail.
"Mariella, my love," he murmured, almost casually. Mariella didn't react to the endearment; Number two felt his irritation rise, but maintained his composure. "Have you noticed how well the mares' pregnancies are progressing? They're gaining weight, full of energy—you can practically feel the foals inside them."
Mariella looked at the horses, worry creasing her face. "Shouldn't they be resting? We've been here six months, and they were bred early."
Number two said softly, "My love, don't worry. Foaling takes eleven months; they're a little over halfway. Even with the riding ahead, it's generally safe to ride a horse for the first six months."
Mariella frowned. "But it's been almost six months. I need to talk to Number One about this. Mimi's saddlebags aren't light, and my horse is often tired."
Number two subtly manipulated Mariella's memory, conjuring the feeling of late-stage pregnancy to foster empathy for the horses. A sense of satisfaction filled him as he rose to get the coffee.
He saw Number One returning, Mariella whispering to him; Number one was frowning thoughtfully. Perfect. Number two sat near Mimi, whose meal was less than ideal, but he decided to address that later. A strong feeling of love filled him as he looked at Mimi's somber face. To confirm his suspicions, he subtly probed her mind with a telepathic tendril.
It was ironically funny that, right after the change, Number One had instructed them to keep their telepathy under tight control, probing minds only when absolutely necessary. This meant he didn't want anyone to access Mimi's mind. Number Two was curious; he wanted to understand the crisis between Mimi and the others—why Number One was pushing Mimi away, and why she was allowing it.
Determined to find out, Number Two subtly probed Mimi's mind. He sensed her protective barrier, a power dome she'd conjured to shield others from her distress. She didn't want them to worry, wanting them to enjoy the trip, even if she wasn't. Number Two felt it acutely.
He mused that he identified more as Number Two than as Damon; he was, after all, a version of Damon Salvatore—the second, Bridgette had taken him out as the first. As one of ten, most of whom were known by numbers (like Number Five or Ten), he was no exception. Even Number One was sometimes referred to by his number.
Being called Number Two didn't make him feel like a clone; rather, it gave him a distinct identity, separating him from Number One. Mariella had attempted to give them names in the past, but Number Two preferred his designation, making this clear to her.
Number Two's mental probe slithered along Mimi's mental dome, eventually finding a weak point and slipping inside. Worry flooded him; he had to restrain himself from comforting her. Inside, he found swirling black balls—tangled memories and sensations she'd conjured, making her believe she was responsible for their love's failure.
Number Two's probe continued its investigation. What the hell had happened? He discovered a conversation by the riverbank: Mimi had spoken to Mariella, perhaps intentionally, perhaps not. She hadn't considered the consequences, and Mariella had blabbed everything to Damon. This would serve as a prime example for the pack: don't talk to Mariella unless you want Number One to know.
Number Two sighed; this was disastrous—a full-blown attack of MNDS. She wasn't sleeping, plagued by nightmares and self-blame, trapped in a vicious cycle. He was determined to help, and his plan seemed perfect for the situation. He soon realized that Mimi had told Mariella, who had told Number One directly about their changing relationship.
Number One had blamed himself, recognizing that he had treated Mimi more as a possession than a loved wife, leading him to distance himself and view himself as a failure. Frustrated by this cycle, Number Two planned to teach every Salvatore, including Number One, how to deal with the past. As the pack's heart, Mimi, the selfless alpha female and savior, had once again hidden her distress, blaming herself for everything.
I was lost in thought, barely paying attention to my surroundings, when Number One's voice cut through the air.
"Listen up," he announced. "This trip will probably last a month, maybe a month and a half, or even longer. With our mares' pregnancies progressing, it's time to give them a break. We males will have the honor of carrying the females in our saddles. Those who wish can use spells to have a lady ride with them. The mares will be sent to the magic house for the remainder of their pregnancies; those foals are precious. For the females, we'll forgo tents, using hammocks instead. We'll lighten saddlebags, and we'll be riding extensively. So, girls, you can sleep in our saddles; we'll secure you energetically, and you can lean on us and rest."
Mariella fawned over Damon; she was completely captivated by him. Meanwhile, I wondered where I would go and who would even want to take me. I noticed Tim and Taylor talking near Number Two.
Number Two then announced, "Now, let's decide who goes where for the first leg of the trip. I'll take Mimi; Number One, you take Mariella; Adam, you take Katherine; Charles, you take Elena; Lepard, you take Mimosa; and Demon, Shadow will keep you company."
I was surprised by his assignment and noted a familiar expression on Number Two's face as he looked at me. I couldn't place it, but it wasn't unpleasant. I strained to recall when and where I'd seen it before.
Mariella whispered something to Number One, who then sharply looked at Number Two, who responded with a raised eyebrow, again glancing at me. I was unsure why Number Two had chosen me or what this was all about.
Mariella pouted, clearly unhappy, suggesting Number Two had a plan for me or that someone had spoken to her.
My surprise intensified as Number Two declared, "Now, I'm not going to mince words; this is a pack thing, and it's important for all of us to acknowledge that. I love Mariella, in my own way, but it's nothing compared to how I feel about Mimi. I'm not doing this out of malice, though I have reason to be, but for practical reasons. We all need to know the facts."
He paused, leaving me completely bewildered. Standing in the middle of the pack, he continued, his next statement eliciting varied reactions.
"The fact is, whatever you tell Mariella, she'll tell Number One—no exceptions. So don't tell her anything you don't want Number One to know, as she's utterly incapable of keeping secrets or exercising any discretion."
Mariella opened her mouth to retort. Some of us were quite surprised, while some Salvatores seemed almost bored; this was old news to them. However, among the others—Tim, Taylor, Magnum, even Wulfe— hushed discussions broke out. He was right; Mariella couldn't keep anything from Number One. I'd learned this the hard way in the past; despite my pleas, she always told him anyway.
Number two continued relentlessly. "My love, Mimi, I know about your conversation with Mariella a few weeks ago by the riverbank. I'm in your dome. Our alpha female has a full-blown case of MNDS, caused by Mariella's betrayal. She couldn't keep Mimi's insecurities secret, telling number one, who, in his usual destructive way, isolated Mimi and likely stopped loving her. I've noticed Mimi hasn't slept; she's been hunting and created a mental dome to shield Charles and Wulfe from her troubles, even though she's struggling herself."
The silence was overwhelming. I felt Wulfe and Charles's worry, and Charles's self-reproach for not noticing sooner. Number one was silent, holding Mariella. Three and ten scoffed, and many were unsure whose side to take. I finally recognized the expression on number two's face—the same one from England when he'd demanded I explain what was wrong.
But he'd grown; instead of asking, he'd acted, revealing the secret to everyone. I wasn't sure if this was wise, but the secret was out, and my insecurity returned. I desperately wanted to fix things. Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through my mind. Wulfe, having pinpointed my dome, destroyed it, allowing him and Charles to sense my distress.
Number two stood still and said, "As I said, I'll take care of Mimi. She's our alpha female, the heart of this pack. Mariella, I hope you learn that you're the weakest female, and your influence over number one is solely due to your bond with him. Enjoy your trip, and let's see how many are willing to confide in you directly, bypassing you as a middleman."
Mariella's irritation was evident; number one's muttered words about actions and consequences hit her hard. She'd have to prove herself, and it wouldn't be quick or easy if she wanted to be a confidante. After finishing my plate, number two took it, fetched me more, and glared at number one.
Wulfe spoke next, exclaiming, "I'm fucking glad for number two—my unicorn! She's always protecting others, and it's damn good we have someone with brains to protect her, too. I can feel number one's influence on our pack; he's pushing his problems—his sense of failure, his feeling of unworthiness regarding Mimi—onto all of us. It affected most of us until I addressed it. Even unintentionally, he was isolating Mimi; intentionally, it was cruel, and he wrongly blamed her for their relationship problems."
Wulfe then summarized my issues for the pack, recounting my discussions with Mariella and why I felt Damon's love had become possessive. The pack discussed this while number two brought me my plate, prepared as usual. As I ate with him beside me, listening to my pack dissect my neurosis was almost humorous, though many perspectives needed considering.
Number two said, "This is a start, baby. You'll rest, sleep a lot, and we'll talk more. Tell me in detail what's bothering you most."
I knew he wouldn't relent, which I appreciated. His support brought a sense of love and security; he sensed my distress and acted on it. For the first time in a long time, my neurotic snowball met an unyielding brick wall—not my alpha male, but Damon, who loved and understood me enough to sense my problems, proving his love and making my soul sing.