32. Bridge Over Troubled Water.

We entered my house in India, a smaller one compared to the others I owned in the area. Wulfe couldn't contain his curiosity, his eyes darting around, taking in every detail. As we walked along the upstairs corridor, I planned to head downstairs, but knowing Wulfe's love for exploring, I decided to grab a cold bottle of Palma from the kitchen. The refreshing drink was not only a favorite of his, but it also enhanced his magical abilities.

However, I wanted to indulge myself as well. Just as I opened my bottle and took a satisfying gulp, Wulfe appeared and snatched it from my hand, greedily gulping down the lemonade. He belched and continued to drink.

I looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and remarked, "Feeling thirsty, are we? Never mind, I'll grab some Jaffa."

I reached into the fridge, retrieved a bottle of orange lemonade, opened it, and began drinking it while Wulfe finished every last drop of the Palma. After this brief pause, we finally made our way outside to the garage to choose a car. Wulfe insisted on a black SUV, one of my work vehicles. He worked his magic, adorning the car with inky blackness and golden decorations in the vampire language. I recognized my name and bits of his own name within the intricate design, but without my books, I couldn't decipher the full meaning.

I opened the driver's side door, slid into the seat, and silently cursed as I realized someone, perhaps Damon or Charles, had last driven this car, leaving it in disarray. I began adjusting the seat, mirrors, and steering wheel, taking my time to find the perfect position. Wulfe, finding amusement in my frustration, played around with his seat, experimenting with different settings.

Once I had finally settled into my preferred position, I grumbled under my breath, which made Wulfe smirk, knowing my choice of words was far from ladylike. And then, we set off on our journey. With the navigator programmed by Wulfe, he had discovered new routes for me to drive. Though I had driven in India countless times before, there were still unfamiliar roads to explore. I suspected Wulfe had peeked into my mind to find places I hadn't been, ensuring we embarked on an exciting adventure. 

As I gazed at the winding road ahead, I remarked to Wulfe, "So we've got something new, something old, and something borrowed, huh? Is this some sort of wedding or what?"

Wulfe smirked but remained silent. I put on my favorite song, feeling the rhythm pulse through my body. With a burst of enthusiasm, I belted out the lyrics, "All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces..."

The melancholy tune of "Mad World" filled the car, and Wulfe joined in, quickly searching for the lyrics on his phone. We sang, verse by verse, at the top of our lungs, not caring about hitting the right notes. It was all about having fun, just the two of us. As we continued driving, occasionally pausing for a herd of cows to pass, I hummed along to Celine Dion's "A New Day Has Come." Wulfe mentioned that it could be our song, and I agreed, feeling that a new day had truly arrived.

In that moment of waiting, I expressed to Wulfe, "You know, change has been quite challenging for me, but I'm growing and learning that it's a part of life. I can't resist it."

Wulfe nodded in agreement, adding, "Life can be both fun and tough. Sometimes, it feels overwhelming, and you might want to hide. But remember, love will find you. It always does."

I scoffed slightly and replied, "Supposedly, I'm a creature of love, but love hasn't always been abundant in my life."

Wulfe assured me, "You have a complicated heart. It's not easy for you to see or feel love, but it's there, no matter what."

I nodded, acknowledging that maybe I couldn't see or feel it, but love was a complex emotion with various forms. From the burning intensity of first love to the heart-wrenching love between soulmates like Jake and me or Rob and me, and even our unique bond with Wulfe, each type of love held its own significance. It was yet another aspect of life that left me speechless and contemplative as we continued our drive through this new part of India.

As a Finnish song called "I Have Remembered" played, its haunting melody and soft vocals resonated with me. I didn't sing along, but memories flooded my mind, reminding me of my human life and the emotions tied to that time. 

Wulfe turned to me and said, "I would have loved to meet your mother. She seemed amazing."

I let out a mirthless chuckle and replied, "She was. Once, she was the most important person in my life. But she was the first to go. I learned that I had to move on, no matter who I lost. A few years later, it was my sister, and shortly after that, my father. I lived alone with my animals, losing them one by one. I never got new ones. Maybe someday, I thought, but reality set in. I'm not sure if having a cat or dog is suitable for me. My lifestyle is dangerous, and because of my feline magic, and my alpha status, they might become magic cats and dogs. Damon would mess with them, breed them."

Wulfe fell silent for a moment, then spoke, "My human life feels so long ago. I've lost most of my memories, but I remember the sounds, smells, and feelings. A few people too. But having your memories is a blessing. You keep them with you. I lost mine. I hardly remember my family, and my life back then. But you, my unicorn, they will be with you always."

I nodded, contemplating his words, and replied, "But I have a lot of baggage, too. What goes with me, and what comes out of me? I have no idea what I'll become. I've noticed how much I've changed in such a short time. It's inevitable that I won't stay the same, no matter how hard I try."

As Christian Waltz's "Wonderchild" started playing, I couldn't help but sing along, and Wulfe joined in.

When the song ended, I turned to him and said, "Maybe that's your song. You are the wonderchild."

He snorted and responded, "You, my love, are a child compared to me. A fetus, if you may."

I chuckled and countered, "Well, at least I'm one freaking strong fetus."

We drove to a bazaar and shopped. I had my list, knowing the sizes I needed.

But Wulfe told me, "Keep your list to yourself. I'm shopping for fun, not for necessity. Besides, it's not hard to magically resize these items."

I sighed in my mind, realizing I had never considered asking someone to magically resize them. All those rugs I hadn't bought over the years because they were too small haunted my thoughts. But now, with newfound determination, I focused on finding everything I wanted.

Wulfe and I had an amazing time together. He surprised me by buying a beautiful sari and insisted I try it on. As I adorned my forehead with a shimmering sapphire jewelry piece, my pitch-black hair, transformed with dental substances, made me feel more connected to this place. In return, I bought Wulfe traditional male clothes to blend in with the locals.

We explored various curiosity shops, but Wulfe, being protective, made sure there was no hidden magic or anything dangerous. As a toucher, it was hard for me not to explore everything, but with Wulfe by my side, I refrained. As we left, the hot day called for open windows, and we sang our hearts out to Green Day's "American Idiot," our duets echoing through the streets.

However, the joy was sometimes interrupted by sharp headaches, a side effect of my programming. But I had learned to fight it, to push it away and prioritize myself. Wulfe was right - I needed to be in top shape to help others, and taking care of myself was crucial.

As we drove on, we reminisced about old times, sharing laughter and singing Bryan Adam's "Heaven" once again. Wulfe always knew how to evoke emotions in me.

He said, "This is our song, Mimi. It's the song that represents our connection. When I get to hold you, be near you, it feels like heaven to me."

I remained silent, holding back my emotions, muscle in my jaw twitched before I could get a grip on myself, my voice still trembling as I replied, "Then it truly is our song. It resonates with us perfectly. You are my best security, and there is no one more important than me who protects me. At least, I hope there won't be any Mariella-like situations that require fighting for you. I hope you are mine, always and forever."

Wulfe's eyes glistened with tears as he wiped them with his thumb and said, "Damn, you know how to say the best things. You always manage to get me emotional, and that's not an easy feat. You hear me." 

I nodded and whispered softly, a smile spreading across my face.

"Just look at us two crazies, going all soft and mushy for each other," I said.

The scent of fresh air filled the car as we continued to drive, the sound of the engine humming in the background. We were both lost in our thoughts, appreciating the moment of vulnerability and the chance to express our feelings. It was a valuable lesson I had learned from Jake and Rob, realizing that I hadn't told them enough times how important they were to me. The last time we were together, I was a wreck, unable to think straight. I should have said more, but circumstances had made it difficult for me to function normally.

As the familiar tune of Roxette's "It Must Have Been Love" filled the air, memories of my childhood flooded back. Roxette had been my favorite band, and the loss of their tragic singer still resonated with me. Thoughts of my past love, Damon, lingered in my mind. Maybe someday we would have a chance again, but uncertainty clouded my thoughts.

Suddenly, Wulfe commented on the local wildlife, pointing out a flock of cattle and goats. I had to stop the car to let them pass, and as I did, Rene Simard's "Loiseau" played on the radio. To my surprise, Wulfe began singing along flawlessly, hitting every note with precision. I couldn't help but stare at him in awe.

"Once again, one of my favorite songs, and you sing it beautifully," I said, a genuine smile on my face.

Wulfe smiled back and tapped his temple, reminding me of his telepathic abilities. This trip had been nothing short of amazing, and I couldn't help but wonder if I ever wanted it to end. 

As Wulfe and I strolled through one of my cherished bazaars, the vibrant colors of the marketplace dazzled my eyes. The air was filled with the aroma of exotic spices and the chatter of enthusiastic shoppers.

"I can't bear the thought of this adventure ending," I remarked, savoring the sense of freedom that engulfed me.

Wulfe grinned mischievously, his eyes catching sight of yet another merchant. In this bustling place, haggling was customary, and although I didn't partake, Wulfe relished the art of negotiation. The merchants chuckled at his skill, enjoying the back-and-forth banter.

We ended up purchasing a plethora of items, planning to store them at one of the pack's houses before our journey to Ireland. However, Wulfe insisted that I buy something for each member of the pack, intending to personally present them with the gifts. Uncertain about this idea, I hesitated, wondering if it was necessary. At times, I questioned if I was overreacting. Perhaps the pack's celebrations were merely centered around indulging in pleasure, meaning fucking draining black goo and having the heat of vampires.

Here I was, embarking on the road trip of a lifetime, devoid of any programming distractions. Little did I remember beside me was a telepath even stronger than Damon, one who would reveal the truth through my own eyes, forcing me to believe and exposing the pack simultaneously. Wulfe was undoubtedly a teacher, but his lessons struck me hard.

Despite my reservations, I purchased something for each pack member, yielding to Wulfe's unwavering determination. Time swiftly passed as we followed Wulfe's carefully planned route, singing with all our might. Driving along a narrow road surrounded by lush jungle, our voices echoed through the air, causing the birds to take flight.

Wulfe's rendition of Tina Turner's "What's Love Got to Do with It" was powerful and raw, while I opted for a gentler approach, softly singing Sunrise Avenue's "Nothing is Over" to myself. However, as soon as Wulfe found the lyrics, he joined in, harmonizing effortlessly. We lost track of how many songs we sang, but it was a multitude, and our voices resonated loudly.

Music became our solace, our healing balm, as we delved into conversations about the lyrics. We analyzed their meaning, and whenever I found connections to my own life, Wulfe assured me it was due to my memory. Making these connections was part of the bargain, and he kept a watchful eye to ensure I didn't become entangled in painful memories. Instead, he coaxed forth the good memories, even in the midst of melancholic songs about parting ways. For instance, he linked The Rasmus's "Sail Away" to every time Damon left my nightstand his wallet and phone, which brought both laughter and healing to our hearts. 

During our trip, I had a diverse collection of naughty, adult, and dirty songs I connected with on a personal level. Unsure if Wulfe had access to those memories or what he thought of them, I hesitated to hear his opinion. I had a lot of very rough sex memories. We spent hours dissecting the Finnish language and selecting songs for each pack member.

Mariella had Linkin Park's "Breaking The Habit," and Damon's favorite was The Rasmus' "In the Shadows." Aqua's "Doctor Dick" became Damon's number four. As we planned for a future pack karaoke night, our song of choice was Bryan Adam's "Heaven." However, Wulfe claimed that Bad Boys Blue's "Lady in Black" suited me, the ultimate seductress. Perhaps it was fitting, given my vampire form adorned a black lace dress.

As time flew by, our three-month adventure had been an absolute blast. If every moment with Wulfe was this enjoyable, why would anyone want to be alone when they could have fun with their soulmate? I couldn't help but wonder how many times we startled the locals with our loud singing as we strolled along the riverbank. Wulfe had taken my player with him, so we walked hand in hand, belting out "I Want to Know What Love Is" by Foreigner. Every time the chorus hit, Wulfe would pause, look into my eyes, and sing it to me. Our connection had grown immensely during this trip, deepening with each passing day.