My Taboo Harem!

Not in his life had Phei ever thought he would see both of them like this.

Melissa and Delilah.

Kissing.

Melissa kissing any of her daughters while he fucked her? Never. Not even in his boldest fantasies, and his fantasies had never once been accused of modesty. Yet the memory of it happening was right there, still warm, still impossible — mother and daughter, mouths together, moans shared, while the morning broke every ordinary boundary between them and remade the air with something far too intimate to name aloud yet.

And now, even as he left the bathroom and dressed in the walking, they were laughing together.

Touching each other without awkwardness pretending to be dignity.

Helping each other into clothes after a morning that had very thoroughly murdered the old definition of their relationship and left something warmer, stranger, and far more dangerous standing over the corpse.

The steam still clung to their skin and damp hair, the scent of expensive soap and warm water trailing after them like evidence too expensive to prosecute. Phei moved out first, dressing with lazy efficiency while his mind kept circling back to images no sane man would ever survive if he had a conscience large enough to be useful.

Thankfully, his conscience had long ago learned to work part-time.

Melissa stood near the wardrobe, glowing in that impossible post-morning softness that made her look less like a woman who had spent the night managing a birthday banquet and more like royalty finally remembering she was allowed to be worshipped. Her dark hair fell damp around her shoulders, her cheeks carried that faint warmth she kept trying to hide and failing beautifully, and every now and then her eyes would flick toward Phei with a quiet look that made him want to ruin the schedule all over again.

Delilah was worse but not because she was bolder; because she was trying not to be.

She stood beside her mother with her face still flushed, fingers fumbling slightly with the fabric in her hands, pretending she could survive the aftermath through discipline alone.

It was adorable, tragic too and deeply entertaining.

Every time Melissa brushed close to help her, Delilah stiffened for half a breath, not from rejection, but from memory of what had happened between them in the heat of the moment before they’d realized it was happening.

Phei saw it.

Melissa saw it.

Delilah absolutely knew they saw it, which only made her blush deepen.

Melissa, ruthless in her gentleness, stepped closer and fixed a damp strand of Delilah’s hair away from her daughter’s beautiful face, it made Delilah look down but Melissa smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The girl froze.

Then swallowed, before she looked as if she might either cry, laugh, or flee into the nearest curtain and become architecture.

Melissa kissed her cheek next.

Softly and naturally like she usually did but right now it carried a different meaning and it was as if that affection were the most ordinary affection in the world after what happened, and not a gesture that carried the whole morning inside it — each one of them still holding the images of each other and what they had done to each other behind her eyes.

Delilah’s lips twitched despite herself.

Phei stopped there was that impossible way the world was bending around around them with the kind of obedience that should have required armies, gods, or at least paperwork. Yet here it happened through affection, heat, trust, forbidden hunger, and the strange devotion that had begun gathering around him like weather.

When had the world started moving on his whim?

Man.

’This ’s unbelievable.’

But it had happened and Melissa and Delilah were living proof of it, standing in the soft morning light, laughing quietly as they helped each other dress, each one carrying the same private memories behind her eyes. Their gazes met once and both women immediately looked away.

That nearly killed him: Phei leaned back against the wardrobe, one hand resting near the buttons of his shirt, and let a slow smile form.

"Say." he started making both women look at him.

Melissa’s expression turned suspicious so quickly it was almost insulting while Delilah’s went pale beneath her blush, which was impressive considering he had only said one word.

Phei pointed downward — unhurried, unrepentant, directly at the subject of the morning’s devotions — with a smile no decent woman should have trusted:

"When can we do this again?"

The silence that followed deserved its own temple.

Melissa and Delilah stared at him, then, with the perfect unity of women who had apparently formed an alliance against the Young Dragon in under three seconds, they spoke together:

"Don’t push your luck, Dragon."

Phei’s smile widened.

"It was a beautiful family harmony; can’t blame a man for wanting more of that."

"Do not call it that," Delilah said at once.

Melissa’s lips twitched, but she fought it bravely. Poor woman. Humor was difficult to survive around him when he had already decided to be unbearable. Delilah lifted her chin, trying to gather what remained of her dignity from the floor, the bathroom, possibly the pool, and wherever else the morning had scattered it.

"I will have you know," she said, "this was a mistake."

Phei nodded solemnly.

"Tragic."

"And never happening again."

Melissa glanced at her daughter.

Delilah glanced back; for one delicate second, the statement stood naked in the room with no evidence to support it.

Phei tilted his head:

"Ya think?"

Delilah’s eyes narrowed. "Do not say it like you already know better."

"And do not use that voice," Melissa added; "it makes you sounds like you are already planning."

"I am wounded by that accusation."

"You are pleased by it," Melissa corrected.

"I do know many things," Phei offered.

Melissa stepped forward and tapped a finger against his chest. "You know how to get yourself into trouble."

"And out of it, apparently."

"Not always."

"Enough to be respected."

"Barely."

Delilah pointed at him. "You are not respected right now."

"I feel respected after what I just accomplished."

"You feel smug."

"Close cousin, close."

Melissa laughed despite herself, and Delilah looked betrayed by the sound.

"Mother!"

"What?" Melissa asked, still smiling. "He is impossible, but he is not always wrong."

"Do not encourage him."

"My love," Melissa said, turning those warm, dangerous eyes back to her man, "you are being refused."

Phei sighed with theatrical devastation: "Very well. I accept this cruel judgment with grace."

Delilah did not relax.

Smart girl.

Phei picked up the upper piece of his attire from the chair and added, with fatal casualness, "I shall simply try my luck elsewhere."

The room chilled in that distinctly feminine way that made even powerful men remember the value of humility before they were murdered by silence.

Melissa smiled, Delilah’s eyes sharpened: Phei looked between them and immediately recognized that civilization had placed him on trial without counsel.

"Statement withdrawn," he said.

Melissa’s smile warmed. "Wise."

"Very wise," Delilah added.

"Temporary," she muttered after, quieter, mostly to herself.

"I was joking."

"You were testing the windows," Melissa said.

"And found them barred?" Delilah finished.

Phei placed one hand over his heart. "And wounded by suspicion."

"Try wounded by accuracy," Melissa corrected.

Delilah muttered, "You deserved the towel earlier."

Phei looked at her. "You threw it badly."

"I was... I was flustered."

"I noticed."

Her face burned again. "Shut up."

Phei laughed.

Above them, unseen by Melissa and Delilah, Eira drifted upside down near the ceiling with both hands clasped beneath her chin, watching the disaster below with the delighted expression of a tiny fairy who had found religion and discovered it was gossip.

"Attaboy," she said brightly. "Threaten another battlefield, get roasted by both women, retreat under hostile fire, pretend it was strategy. Truly, Master, I am learning so much."

Phei did not look at her.

He refused but she floated lower anyway, because dignity had never once slowed her down.

Melissa noticed the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"That was not nothing."

"It was a private grief."

Delilah narrowed her eyes. "You look amused."

"Grief is complicated."

Melissa studied him for a second longer, then shook her head, still smiling. "Madman."

Eira clapped once, soundless to everyone but him. "Smooth. Terrible, but smooth."

Phei kept his gaze on the clothes in his hands and ignored her harder. A very mature strategy. Naturally, it failed. Eira’s amusement lingered for only another breath before the air around her sharpened.

"Fun aside," she said. "Master, today is the day."

Phei’s fingers paused.

The warmth in his expression did not vanish, not entirely, but it receded behind something colder that Melissa knew too well. Something that belonged to danger, memory, and decisions that would not wait politely for breakfast.

Melissa’s smile faded.

"My love?"

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