As night fell, the rain poured down, obscuring the stars. Despite the weather, I enjoyed a surprisingly delicious meal. The meat, enriched with paste made from our prey's organs, was exceptionally nutritious. The peanuts, mashed into peanut butter with other nuts, added another layer of flavor.
Each of us had a magically enchanted drinking bottle—appearing as a large Coke bottle, but remaining perpetually full—allowing us unlimited drinks. I'd also brought along several travel-sized bottles to keep my Coke cold during our travels.
My unique physiology allowed me to concentrate my piss, eliminating the need for frequent bathroom breaks. Damon had implemented one additional rule: magic replication was only permitted with his approval, meaning not all pack members would receive tents, but they could create their own if they wished.
Sleeping outdoors wasn't a major concern, as they'd seen Mariella construct a roof over her sleeping area. Nest-building began almost immediately after the meal. My tent was already prepared, complete with integrated pillows, linens, and mosquito netting. Number Four sat nearby, observing me calmly, almost arrogantly.
A thought occurred to me, and I asked, "Did Mimosa show you her ribs? She took some kicks from that stag, cracked a few ribs, and got some nasty bruises. I told her to show you, but you can always check her if she hasn't."
Number Four grunted, replying, "Nope, she hasn't said a thing, but thanks, I'll check on her."
I was simply looking out for my pack. Unfortunately, my irritating "I'm fine" attitude regarding medical matters sometimes rubbed off on others. Mimosa, having lived within me for decades, had certainly inherited this trait, but this trip was too enjoyable for her to complain about every little thing.
However, it was crucial to ensure she was truly alright, as we didn't want a genuine medical emergency on our hands if her injuries were worse than they initially appeared.
The night air smelled fresh, like freedom, and I realized that this trip, even if it might get stressful at some point, would offer us a whole new sense of freedom. No need to live in a house or play human, but to let nature challenge us and make us work hard to survive. It would be exhilarating to face this kind of challenge. I couldn't help but wonder if Damon had thought about it from this perspective or if it was just my mind coming up with ideas.
As I happily munched away, number four stood up, walked to Mimosa, and talked to her in a low voice, catching number one's attention, too. Mimosa's exaggerated expressions revealed her frustration as number four seemed overbearing.
She gasped when he poked her in the side, indicating that she hadn't fully healed. Number one also approached her and gently ran his palm over her side to check for any deeper injuries or underlying issues hindering her healing.
Every Salvatore had healing magic, but it was strongest in number one as his core purpose was to mend and heal. He used his magic lightly to assess Mimosa's condition.
I was the fastest to heal among the pack, my healing being five times faster than the others. This meant that if they got injured, it wasn't as easy for them to recover as it was for me. Their slower healing also meant they burned fewer calories, so they didn't have to focus as much on eating to stay in shape.
I had learned to understand my body and its needs over time. Being high-maintenance, I required the pack to take care of me when I couldn't do it myself or when I prioritized others over myself. My thoughts flowed into Wulfe's mind as I reminisced about everyone I had tried to save, even those who were beyond redemption.
Wulfe's soft voice reassured me, unheard by Damon, who was tending to Mimosa, "My unicorn, you are special. Thank you for giving me more to work with and allowing me access to a new part of your mind. Now I can see what needs to be done next and what should be the priority."
I sighed, confessing, "This is just who I am. Perhaps it's the innocent lives I've taken, or maybe a lingering hope for redemption. I can't help it."
Wulfe replied softly, "Mimi, he was beyond saving. You couldn't have made him love you. He'd had a heart, but it belonged to someone else who broke it, stole it away, despite any prophecy."
He referred to Reyes Farrow, Satan's son. I'd learned of prophecies foretelling a chosen one who could heal him, and restore his soul, but I'd failed. He was gone, utterly destroyed, damned with no chance of redemption. Yet, my failure haunted me.
It was another example of my chaotic mind, and Wulfe was saving me, one agonizing step at a time. He delved deep, unearthed my problems, prioritized what needed healing, and what could wait. Best of all, he didn't tell Damon a thing—nothing of what he saw or felt in my mind, how broken I was. He was there, as deep as he could go, always ready to dig deeper, and I'd given him access to the ugliest parts of myself. I wouldn't refuse him; I knew this would help.
But Damon, the pack—their betrayals had shattered my trust. Asking for their help was impossible, and Wulfe knew it. He wouldn't involve them in my mental cleansing unless absolutely necessary. He saw it as his prerogative, his duty, his love for me.
We sat, finishing our meal, close together. Wulfe ate quickly, gripping my hand, and pressing our scars together. To him, it was a vampire marriage, and I liked it. We were missing pieces of each other and admitting this bond took time.
For Wulfe, it must have been terrifying, even for someone who'd seen so much. He was older, far older than Damon, and God knows what he'd witnessed. It's a miracle he's as sane as he is. Me? I've seen and endured too much, too soon, to call myself sane. Perhaps our shared madness is why we're so close.
The rain, the smell, the feel—it was almost therapeutic. Even while eating outside my tent, the earthy scent of the Australian wet forest was intoxicating; a unique smell I knew I'd always associate with Australian rain.
Wulfe said, "You know, my unicorn, we should head to the tent, or we'll get soaked! This rain's coming down hard."
I replied, "I can go, but I'm not sure I'm inviting you."
He snorted, smiled, and said, "Oh, please, don't be cruel! Let me get drenched while you're cozy in your tent?"
I smiled sweetly as he rolled his eyes, then focused, golden strands forming from his fingers. I never tired of watching his magic—it was truly amazing. He frowned slightly, distracted, I think, but refocused, soon holding a roll of fabric.
"Don't worry about me," he said. "I'm going to teach Salvatore a few tricks."
He left, having finished his meal, carrying the fabric near some trees. Quickly climbing a small tree, he tied one end of the fabric, repeating the process several times, creating a large, fabric roof.
He said sweetly, almost too sweetly to Damon, who was still preparing his sleeping area. "I've made a small shelter. It's dry in here, so feel free to join me."
Damon glared briefly, then went over. He carried several rolls, a sleeping bag, and pillows—if I saw correctly. Oh, what a delight! I was content in my tent. Damon's irritation stemmed partly from Mariella's rather fancy little cottage; she'd taken the other women there, giving them their own space.
I'd set my sights on certain individuals, and soon, without even asking, my intentions became clear. Adam and Charles approached my tent, smugly confident, while Damon glared daggers. But actions have consequences; if he tried to separate Adam and me, I'd ensure my desires were fulfilled. He was powerless to stop me.
Since I didn't need much sleep, our tent might be quite busy all night.
Adam's seductive voice, dark and eager, reached my mind: "Don't worry about the others, honey. I have spells left to create a noise suppressor."
Charles's gaze burned as we entered my tent. I secured the netting to keep out bugs, and we had all the time in the world. Before I could even plan to undress, two horny men descended on me, kissing and tearing off my clothes.
I became a pliant, shuddering mess on my mattress, sighing under their touch, their mouths and hands exploring my body. They shed their clothes as quickly, making it crystal clear this wouldn't be a sleepover.
This was just as good as sleep; pleasure mounted with each touch, kiss, and sharp inhale of their scent, a testament to their readiness. My pheromones flowed like a river of lust, igniting them further, and their arousal boosted my own until lust consumed reason and we became one intertwined mass. My body produced these pheromones only for Adam and Charles, my chosen men. No regrets, and there would be none.
Warm hands caressed my body, my own eagerly exploring theirs, feeling muscles and sweat as passion consumed us. Kisses rained down, hot lips vying for dominance, and the rhythmic drumming of rain on our tent adding to the atmosphere of lust, love, and sweat. It was my first time having sex in a tent, and I was blissfully happy with these two.
Damon, while I loved him, could be overbearing. This felt less like a conquest for him, a more shared sanctification, and I felt both horny and loved. I wanted more than just an exotic location; I wanted a connection.
These two knew me, felt me, and Charles, once again, sensed my needs and willingly met them. Damon, my protector, rarely sensed my needs like Charles did; I'd seen Damon sense Mariella's needs so sensitively. It wasn't protection; it was love.
This bothered Damon, and I sensed his frustration. Charles loved me deeply; if he felt Damon could help, he involved him—offering Damon opportunities to help me. Charles's selflessness mirrored mine, though perhaps mine was extreme. It's just how I am, how my life shaped me.
I have no idea if Adam used a noise suppressor, and frankly, I couldn't care less. All I know is the pleasure: hot, eager cocks filling my pussy and ass, my lips swollen with kisses, my breasts groped, squeezed, kissed, bitten—I was biting two of them, marking them as mine.
I was the alpha female, taking what I wanted, and nothing could stop us. We bit, kissed, moaned, and grunted; the heavy scent of sex wafted from our tent, surely noticed by the rest of the pack. I didn't hide it; I let my arousal seep into the hive, igniting others. They joined in—wild nights and days until we'd mostly exhausted our lust and could focus on our journey.
Or maybe this was just what we did. But it was the first time in a long while I'd ignited the pack to such a frenzy while participating fully. I'm usually reserved, not letting the entire pack feel the extent of my fucking and orgasms, but now there were no limits.
I have no idea how long it lasted. I lay atop my men, half on each, as they both wanted their share of me, their hands still caressing my body. Sweaty, our tent felt sacred, and both men were drifting off to sleep. We'd fucked ourselves senseless, and perhaps it was time for a nap—together, feeling the love, lust, and everything else.
Our lust ignited the pack, and we all surrendered to a frenzy of passion. Adam, Charles, and I were swept away. The wave of pure lust that we banged out was spreading until the entire pack was entangled, furiously mating beneath the shelter that wulfe had put up. Every female found a cock, every hole was used. I passed out on top of Adam and Charles, oblivious to the consequences. Our tent was sanctified properly.
Sunlight streamed through the clear sky when Damon awoke, his body sore but satisfied. He extricated himself from the pile of sleeping bodies and crawled out, breathing the fresh summer air and feeling the warm Australian sun.
He groaned, then shrugged it off, putting on his jeans but leaving his shirt off in the heat. He went to the fire pit, added wood, and started coffee, anticipating the others waking.
Mimi, Charles, and Adam had also been consumed by lust, utterly spent from their exertions. Damon mentally savored the potent energy of Mimi's lust, his own greed evident. He had gotten many tanks in his mind. It was good to be an energy creature and have such a generous wife.
A soft whinny caught his attention. He lifted his gaze and noticed that Thunder had somehow gotten free. He was restlessly grazing near the queen, and the telltale stains on the queen, princess, and other mares revealed the source of his agitation.
Damon sensed Thunder's smugness; he'd gotten his mares pregnant. Foals were on the way, but it wouldn't hinder their trip. Damon smiled, anticipating Mimi's reaction to the news—her lust had spread to the horses! Mimi's expressions would be so perfect. He wasn't sure where this trip would lead, but one thing was certain: it was going to be epic.