37. Don't Cha.

 Mariella was exhausted. Initially, riding in the arms of her number one had felt like a fantasy, but she'd forgotten who he was: an old, stubborn, angry creature who didn't appreciate her childish, jealousy-fueled plots. She truly hoped she would mature and do better.

Her snarky comments about Mimi's rare octopi stemmed from envy; Mimi always seemed to have something special, a life full of those little things that Mariella, despite being a self-proclaimed savior, lacked. Mariella repeatedly vowed to improve and learn, because she had to.

When number one told her how Mimi had destroyed Damien, Mariella felt relief; for the first time, she didn't care about number one's feelings, prioritizing her own sense of relief. Perhaps she was learning, although it was more due to number two's influence than number one's.

Number two had told Mimi never to stop reacting, a sentiment that resonated with Mariella, especially after Damien's deathbed confession of pride in Mimi. The fact that such a monstrous man praised her made Mariella realize how ugly Mimi must have felt, considering how they'd mistreated her for decades.

For the first time, she felt their debt to Mimi personally, not just through number one's words. Mimi had endured their mistreatment for decades, yet she returned to the pack and took it all without complaint.

Now, five days into their ride, Mimi had been asleep for over four days and hadn't woken. Mariella suspected number two, who was still holding Mimi, was preventing her from waking because her MDNS was severe.

Number two had filled in them state of Mimi's mind, plagued with anxiety, fear, nightmares, self-doubt, and self-blame, and it had quickly blossomed into a severe condition, almost as bad as it gets, according to both number two and Charles. 

Mariella couldn't comprehend what it felt like to have that kind of syndrome. She didn't blame herself, not entirely, realizing that Damon had kept her safe by making all the decisions. This relieved her of the responsibility for their choices, which were Damon's alone. She was his doll, his possession. Their relationship had evolved over the years, and she had adapted to her role.

She idly wondered how many others like her Damon had had in the past. Mimi had certainly hinted at it, but had it always been like this—a blossoming romance that gradually morphed into possession, becoming obsessive if the woman didn't yield? The story of Kira and Rikhard remained on Mariella's mind. Damon had been downright creepy, and while she claimed to understand, she wasn't always sure. She let him talk, but there was always a lingering doubt.

Lost in thought, Mariella was startled when Number One announced, "Well, it seems it might rain soon, so we're getting soaked. I hope you've learned your lesson, as we have a lot ahead of us. And those octopuses—I can't wait to meet them! Just think, a normal octopus might live two or three years, but these guys have been around for over a century!"

Mariella was silent. The thought of the octopuses' tentacles sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't help it.

"Maybe I could watch them or something," she asked Damon. "Was it always like Kira? Did you have to possess them?"

Damon grunted. "Well, yeah, those I wanted. But then there was a sea of pussies trying to throw themselves at me. It's tiring, having a flock of airheads with overfilled silicone tits rubbing themselves against me like cats in heat."

Mariella exclaimed, "Now that's something I want to see one day!"

Damon rolled his eyes. "Actually, Mimi had a cruise in mind. Maybe we should go sometime, but not right after this. I think we need some time in the Azores first."

Mariella smirked. "Oh, my poor pussy, getting stuffed—and my other holes, too! Well, maybe it's good, and then we can see what comes next."

Damon said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I have a hunch about things, and I want to go to the Azores for that reason."

Mariella frowned. "What do you mean?"

Damon explained, "I want to see how attached certain Salvatores are to Mimi, how hard it is for them to let her go. Then, my love, we get to have fun."

Mariella, still confused, frowned. Damon elaborated, "Just think: one smug alpha female goes on holiday, and we give her subtle hints to check on one of her new islands. The Salvatores will know, and we'll see which ones are pouting, missing her." '

Mariella smiled. "And we can recommend that they go to her! Oh, absolutely perfect."

Damon continued, "We go first. Just think, eight weeks or so—we keep the hive active, feeling her out. Once she's at the peak of her smugness, we visit. It's not forbidden, and we get to see what she's so smug about."

Mariella smiled; it would be perfect. Then, armed with evidence, they would flood Mimi with loving husbands—no more Miss High and Mighty all alone. New winds and so forth. Mariella could hardly wait. It was fun to try something new, not doing things the same old way. Instead of isolating themselves obsessively in the Azores, they could check on pack members—sheer perfection.

Of course, nothing was certain. Mariella couldn't be sure everything would go smoothly after this trip and their time in the Azores. Damon had still to learn from his recent lesson about those clothes, and there was the matter of Mimi's island. If it turned out too nice, he might be upset.

The future was uncertain, but they would take it one day at a time, hoping for the best. Mariella knew she would have to prepare for the possibility that Damon might need to hand out some lessons.

Even the best intentions sometimes went awry, and Mariella hoped Damon would teach Mimi a lesson, as it might backfire spectacularly on him. She had a feeling about it, though she couldn't pinpoint it—an irritating premonition tied to her ability to see the future, revealing less-than-pleasant possibilities.

Telling Damon wouldn't help; he, too, could see the future, and his lessons were rarely something he regretted, even if justified. He usually convinced himself of his righteousness, never looking back, as the enjoyment of dominating Mimi outweighed any guilt.

Even Damon admitted she was an exception, not the possession he typically made of women. She was, undeniably, under his control and had adapted to it, despite Damon's pronouncements. The facts spoke for themselves.

Mariella knew she was unlikely to rebel against Damon alone, but perhaps, by strengthening her relationship with Mimi, she could inspire Mimi to rebel and show Damon she wasn't so easily controlled.

The thought of being a possession, a trophy, ignited irritation and a desire for change within her—a change she couldn't define but desperately wanted. However, confronting a millennia-old creature entrenched in his ways regarding women wouldn't be easy, yet Mimi had done it, and someday, somehow, Mariella would too. It would require significant effort and self-transformation to maintain any changes she made and resist Damon's attempts to stop her, but at least she had a plan.

Damon, meanwhile, dwelt on Kira, the sting of their past still sharp after all these years. He hadn't told Mariella, and although he'd distanced himself from that time, his anger toward Kira persisted.

Ideally, he'd admit he'd been a beast—killing Rikhard and stalking Kira—but his narrative still cast Kira as the one at fault for not loving him. This was a difficult admission, and he struggled with it.

Over the years, he'd finally accepted the bitter truth: Damien had been corrupted by him, transforming him into an even greater monster.

Damon's possessive nature, viewing women as possessions, had rubbed off on Damien, fueled by Damon's own intense love for Mimi, creating a vile obsession within Damien's heart that caused Mimi considerable suffering.

Initially, when Number Two showed him the memory of Mimi destroying Damien, Damon felt betrayed; Mimi had lied, leading him to believe he was killing Damien, which he had, returning Damien's physical body to the day. However, as Damien was pulled back from hell, he realized Mimi had been killing Damien's soul.

While this felt like betrayal, remembering their relationship helped him understand her actions. He was relieved Damien was truly gone, irretrievably so. This realization brought a newfound peace to his heart and soul, banishing the persistent fear of Damien's return.

Lost in thought, Damon was startled when Alaric rode alongside them. "I hadn't noticed that syndrome in Mimi before," Alaric observed, "but now I see it—that certain expression. I've seen it over the years and never understood its significance, but now I do."

Damon nodded. Mariella sat silently before him on the horse.

"She hides it well," Damon mused, glancing briefly at his friend. "Early on, she had those shells, and we got rid of them. I had to do to her a nasty shed session, killing her, and she had other issues, particularly her attacks on Damien, which led to his session with her. She was recovering in New Hampshire, in that old house, and I was irritated by her special sandwich eating."

Alaric smiled. "Did you know Colin lectured us about her nutrition—and those sandwiches—back in the day? For seven years, she struggled with them, and Constantine even provided potions to combat her developing addiction. Even so, the lingering effects remain. I understand the dangers of those sandwiches."

Damon smiled, but continued his story anyway. "She'd learned to use camouflage, and there we were—Mariella and I, irritated. I attacked her about the sandwiches. She was sitting in this enormous chair, and as I started ranting like an irritated parent, she stood up, got a needle and blood tube, drew a tube of her blood, and walked into the kitchen. Before I could process what was happening, Charles walked in, wrapped himself around her, and carried her to bed. Only then, as I smelled the tube—panic, nightmares, deficiency, but no tomato—and the panic made the taste bitter as I gulped it down, did I learn about this syndrome. I finally got Charles to admit it; he'd named it, studied it for years, but never told me."

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's not logged in her medical files, as Colin has never mentioned it."

Damon nodded. "Charles and Adam both knew, but they never wrote anything about it, mainly because of me and Damien. It might have given Damien a weapon against Mimi, using my telepathy to trigger another episode. So they kept it quiet, even after Mariella arrived, despite their extensive experience. And there are still aspects of this damn syndrome that I never knew about. I've considered talking to them at length about it, but something always gets in the way, and it's forgotten. Then this happens."

Alaric said, "Well, we all know now, and I bet Wulfe will delve into this with Charles and Adam. He wants to know everything, so he might share what he learns. He's not a doctor, but for the rest of us, it's damn good to know. I know what to watch for in her behavior, and maybe Wulfe or even you can figure out a way to break the cycle once it starts. There's no use blaming yourselves; it's a sure way to make things worse."

Mariella interjected, "It's simple; the problem is a lack of security. Address that, stop the syndrome now. She's sleeping safely, her mind cleansed by telepaths, healing and well on her way. No need for alarm. The crisis is handled."

Alaric grunted. "Yeah, but you're treating symptoms, not the cause. We need to find out why she lost her sense of security, or give her a decent one. Making her safe everywhere isn't easy. Colin, and I believe you as well, agree with a certain theory."

Mariella replied, "What theory? I have no idea what you're referring to."

Alaric paused, collecting his thoughts. "According to Mimi's deep meditation, she's recovered clearer early memories. Her mind was meant to be broken to make her a better killer—no personality, ambition, or sense of self. That was Krycheck's ultimate brainwashing goal, but she escaped. However, the damage was done, and Colin agrees her mind was altered to retain trauma in far greater detail than is typical for humans. This loss of humanity, the inability to connect, and isolation all contribute to her insecurity. Addressing these might be possible, but the syndrome may be permanent; all we can do is remain vigilant."

Damon remained silent. It made sense, and it enraged him. The harsh reality of their situation—the very foundation of her mind—clashed brutally against his desire to heal and help. Altering it was impossible.

All they could do was to lessen the old trauma by fading memories, disconnecting their emotional toll, and providing the best, most loving family possible. Eliminating the syndrome, however, was not going to happen. This infuriated him.

As he pondered what to do, the first fat raindrops hit his head, eliciting a curse. Australian weather had its unpredictable moments, and the past six months had been a brutal learning curve. The trip had yielded far more than he'd expected, uncovering many secrets, confessions, and new promises. It had been a journey of love, or at least pack life at its best and worst.