I was lounging in my deckchair on the beach when Mariella spoke from behind me. "Oh wow, Mimi, this place is amazing! No wonder you ooze smugness. We came to visit because we were too curious—your smugness is all over the hive!"
I turned to see her in a floral knee-length dress. She smelled clean, not of sex, so she'd showered. Her hair was as immaculate as always. Damon stood beside her, wearing one of my comfortable, long, loose white t-shirts—irritatingly, one of my favorites.
It clung to his muscular yet lean frame like a second skin, highlighting his cutout jeans and perfectly sculpted legs and arms corded with muscle as he crossed his arms. He leaned against one of my palm trees, arms crossed over his chest.
"Yeah, baby," he said, "I must admit, you really downplayed this place. The house is a little worn, but this island… I can see so much potential. And I'm not talking about another heat, but actually living here. It's warm, not too hot, big enough, but not immense. There are forests, and you have something to show us, right? Why in hell's name are you so smug about it?"
I rolled my eyes. Fine, let's educate these two. I got up, walked to my porch, and grabbed two small baskets like those used in shops.
Handing one to each of them, I said, "Well, you know about my obsession with stones and crystals. There are energy stones here; natural disasters have bombarded the island in the past, so there's plenty of interesting energy. Let's take a little walk. Each of you has a basket; let's pick some rocks, and then I'll show you a few tricks."
Damon smirked, but looked at me with arrogance, taking the basket and smiling condescendingly, as if doing me a favor by playing my little game.
We walked near the water. Mariella, focusing intently, soon smugly selected several small, pretty energy stones. Damon, feeling lazy, nonetheless chose several stones that looked appealing in their wet state, though from my lapidary perspective, they were unremarkable.
I, however, picked what appeared to be ugly stones—light brown, pimpled, and coated in old mud—carefully digging them from the sand and mud along the shore.
Mariella raised an eyebrow but offered no comment, but Damon, feeling smug, said, "Oh, you want challenges? Show me how to turn one of those ugly volcanic rocks into something I'd put in jewelry."
I hummed noncommittally; he was baiting me, trying to goad me into revealing my plans.
Just then, Mariella exclaimed, unearthing a large crystal, "Oh wow, Damon, look at this beauty! I think you're not going to touch this one, but I'll keep it as is."
Damon snatched it from her hands, dismissing it with, "Sure, doll, you can keep it. It's just clear quartz; nothing spectacular. But look at this—a lace agate!"
He showed us a chip smaller than my pinky nail. While it was indeed lace agate, it was just a fragment.
Mariella commented, "It's kind of small," to which Damon replied, "See, darlin', it's round, has a nice shine, and I could easily put it in a ring. Perfect!"
Again, I remained silent, but having found a vast stone, I decided to reveal a few surprises.
"Mariella," I said, "want to see something cool and really old?"
She nodded. I dug out what appeared to be a large limestone ball from under some rocks, while Damon continued perusing the remaining stones for anything pretty.
Taking a hammer from my belt, I placed the round ball between my legs and said, "Let's see what we find."
This finally caught Damon's attention.
Just as I was about to strike, he grabbed my arm, saying, "Let's not whack our kneecaps, shall we? Let me—let me just secure this with energy and then hit it."
He was surprised when the ball shattered into two pieces with one brutal strike, revealing perfect fossils inside.
Mariella exclaimed, "Oh wow, those are what you call fossilized creatures!"
Damon, his voice a little rough, replied, "Ammonites, yeah, fossils."
He picked them up, touched them, and said, "These will make exquisite jewelry, darling. See, once carefully extracted and polished, they'll be perfect pendants."
His sharp gaze turned challenging as he looked at me. "Tell me, baby, how many have you found?"
I responded, "A few. Or rather, I've spotted a few but haven't taken them. As you know, all those natural disasters have brought a lot of stuff to this island, and I pick and choose what I want. Like this," I picked a nice-sized amethyst from under a pile of rocks, holding it in my hands before giving it to Mariella.
The amethyst absorbed my lust, becoming intensely charged.
Mariella took it, muttering under her breath, "Damn it, you loaded me up with your superlust."
I smiled smugly.
Damon said to me, "You minx, I see you have some needs, literally flooding your lust into stones. But fine, let's continue. Collect a few more stones, and then we'll see your secret collection—our collection, my dear wife."
He knew I was one of his wives, but I wasn't the perfect wife; most of the time, I didn't really act like one, leaving that role to Mariella, who excelled at it.
He looked at me and said, "Remember our little mind game? I've been thinking about it. Maybe someday, baby, you'll find yourself living in my house, under my rules, as my wife, not as an unruly little bitch evading her duties."
I rolled my eyes, refusing to take his bait.
As we walked down the beach, collecting stones, our baskets grew heavier.
Damon, now more focused, said, "I'm not cheating, not delving into your mind, but merely using my eyes and expertise. Let's see where we are."
I smiled smugly. About an hour later, as we neared the house, I said, "Look at your basket; your stones are dry now."
He glanced down, frowning. They were no longer shiny, but dull and imperfect.
He scoffed, "Sure, we can polish them, but come on, I'm all in, ready to learn."
I walked to the back of the house, to my workshop. My phone beeped on my belt. It was time to check on my stones. Fine.
We entered a large storage shed. One long wall held rock tumblers—cylindrical boxes rotated by a machine, containing rocks, grinding powder, and water. The opposite wall displayed my rock collection, fossils, and geodes.
Mariella approached, picking up a geode with large, rose-hued crystals. At the back of the shed sat a large table; one side held my saw, with a water tank hooked to it, drawing water directly from the ocean. Drainage beneath the table carried away the excess water.
Damon approached the table, frowning at the saw. "Are you using this to chop up some of the stones?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, "to reveal what's hidden."
Mariella joined us, exclaiming, "Oh, please show me!" I switched on the saw—remarkably quiet—as water trickled along the blade, which then whirred to a high speed.
Lifting my basket, I said to Mariella, "Pick one; let's see what they look like on the inside."
She chose a larger stone and handed it to me.
"Fine, let's see," I said.
The stone, possibly fossilized coral or something else entirely, contained geodes, opals, or something equally interesting. Damon watched nervously as I placed the stone against the blade and began to saw.
"Careful, don't chop your fingers!" Mariella warned.
Once sawed through, I kept the pieces together as I stopped the saw and removed the stone.
"Well, let's see; that's one damn ugly stone," Damon commented.
As I pulled the pieces apart, revealing deep, dark blue crystals within a hollow cavity, Damon and Mariella gasped. The crystals were distinctly shaped.
Damon examined the pieces, murmuring, "Aquamarine, or something like that. This is gorgeous! I bet each of these has something like this. Let me do the next one."
I had little choice as he switched on the saw, cut a piece in half—a green one—leaving him as amazed as he'd been by the first.
"These look ugly," I said, "but they're fossilized corals, with some nice specimens inside. This one isn't coral, but it's lovely. Not a geode, though."
Damon sawed through four more pieces while Mariella watched, both pondering their potential uses. I took my piece and, instead of sawing it in half, cut a sliver from one side to yield more pieces.
The smell of stone and water, our excitement, and the whirring of the saw created an atmosphere of revelation.
Damon stood beside me, placing his hands over mine as I started to saw, saying, "Let's do this together, baby. I'll protect you."
He pressed his warm, firm body against mine, guiding my hands as the saw cut through the opal. He snatched the pieces before I could open them, revealing the bright orange and white fire opal, to Mariella's amazement.
Turning the sliver in his hands, he considered the potential yield. "Exquisite, fire opal!" he exclaimed. "Just think, darling—pendants, rings, even brooches! Oh my god, I want to make this a pack thing."
Mariella agreed, adding, "Me too, please, Mimi. We're being greedy, but could you hold onto this until pack time? I want to see Charles's reaction when he sees you operating the saw. But please, let's make this a pack thing—the whole collection and reveal."
I nodded. "Fine by me," I said. "I was going to focus on my fauna and flora survey soon, anyway. But I need to empty my tumblers and wait for better times; a few batches are ready, though."
I had a mischievous plan, inspired by a crystal witch's travel diary. Glenda, her name was, and I'd learned a few things from her extensive use of crystals and stones. I planned to test my theory, but first, I needed to empty my tumblers.
I walked up to my stopped tumblers and said, "You can check on my stones if you like. I just put these to wait until I have a chance to tumble them again."
As I poured the first batch into a cylindrical container, perforated and stuff I poured into it was looking like pieces of rock covered in gray mud—Damon approached. He remained silent as Mariella also arrived to observe. I used a hose to rinse the stones, revealing a set of lace agates.
Damon whistled, exclaiming, "I want those! Those have my name written all over them!"
I replied, "They're not finished yet; they need more time and polishing. See, there are still cracks and sharp edges. I've just bagged them, noting what's been done and what stage they're in, so I know what to do next."
After rinsing, I poured the stones into a bag, labeling it with their name, stage (two), and the next steps: another week of tumbling and three days of polishing. I then placed the bag in a large vat under the shelf, which already contained many others.
Mariella exclaimed, "Wow, you have so many unfinished projects! This is a wonderful, organized hobby. Each of us could choose some, and you could teach us which tools to use at each stage."
Damon calmly added, "Darling, I have some expertise as well; I have my own tumbling methods. But, baby, you have a lot of potential and great equipment. Let's see what else you've got."
I rolled my eyes as I emptied several more tumblers. This time, Damon engaged in a technical discussion about my grinding methods, duration, and speed. Mariella listened, looking a little confused by the technical details.
Damon offered his opinions on each stone's next steps, sometimes even writing his instructions on the bags as I rinsed the stones. Mariella was amazed by the sheer volume of my work.
Damon promised her that we'd sometimes have field trips to mines, where we could collect raw stones to tumble and he could make jewelry. He didn't suggest that I would make the jewelry, only himself or other Salvatores.
Feeling rather smug about the lesson I planned, I acknowledged I'd already taught them several, but today felt different; today, I felt like the teacher. However, my suitability as a wife was questionable.
What kind of wife tries to outsmart her husband after months of separation? That was me, not the perfect little wife. Mariella, on the other hand, visibly suffered during any extended time apart from Damon. So, as I said, I was preparing to teach my husband and his other wives—he had four wives and two concubines—uncertain when Elena and Katherine would join their ranks.
I've had fourteen husbands, plus Wulfe, a special case. He wasn't my husband officially, but my vampire marriage guardian, substituting for Damon when necessary. And then there was Colin, my secret mate, a fact I hadn't revealed to Damon and wasn't sure I ever would.
I'd played along with Colin's plan to portray our four-leaf clover mating mark as a protective sigil, a connection allowing him to sense my distress, which he did. He was my true mate, and our love was profoundly strong.
It was time for my little lesson. "Come on," I said, "I'll show you a bit of the house. It's rundown, but comfy and big."
We emptied each tumbler, officially closing my stone workshop. Salvatore's excitement filled my mind, brimming with plans for my stones—my final tumbler held my polished quartz pieces, all of which Damon had taken. Some were quite large, and I'd envisioned creating an online shop to sell them, but I didn't have the chance.
My dear husband was far too eager to see them. Despite their enthusiasm, I sensed a slight underlying upset about my hobby, a tension in the air that I intended to redirect—and in doing so, I would play the innocent.