Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1467  Private Time with the Mothers

The walk back was unhurried.

Quinlan held Auroraʼs hand in his left, and Kaeliraʼs in his right, and neither woman seemed inclined to let go. Auroraʼs fingers were warm and relaxed, still carrying the loose contentment of someone whose day had gone better than planned.

Kaeliraʼs grip was lighter, more tentative, her thumb resting against his knuckle without quite committing to movement, but she hadnʼt pulled away once since they left the gnome household, after many grateful bows from Aurora toward the pair. Thistle was a bit emotional to see the girl go, while Thindlebrim waved her off, saying he was too busy for this.

Typical Thindlebrim.

However, Aurora wasnʼt dismayed by the cold shoulder she was given, having already known what was coming.

The path wound through gentle slopes and old growth, and for a stretch of time that felt longer than it probably was, nobody spoke. The quiet sat between them comfortably. Aurora hummed something under her breath while hopping like a happy bunny, feeling immensely cheery with his seed resting in her womb now.

As it turned out, they were right.

Pumping his girls full was by far the greatest way to buff them. The effect now lasted for a full week, as opposed to the tablets that were not only weaker in effect but also only lasted half a day.

Kaeliraʼs ears swayed gently with her steps.

Quinlan found himself smiling at nothing in particular.

These moments were rare. The ones where no imminent crisis loomed in the next breath, where no system window demanded attention, where the women beside him were simply happy to walk with him, and he was simply happy to let them.

He squeezed both their hands once.

Aurora squeezed back immediately and giggled.

Kaeliraʼs grip tightened a half second later, as if sheʼd needed to decide if it was allowed first.

The central square came into view soon after.

People had already gathered. His girls stood in loose clusters, some talking quietly among themselves or the primordials, others stretching or adjusting gear.

His gaze swept across the group and found Ayame.

She was standing with one hand resting on her katanaʼs sheath, posture relaxed, dark hair caught in a light breeze. The moment their eyes met, her lips curved.

That smile.

It was the smile of a woman who knew exactly what sheʼd done and had zero regrets about any of it.

Quinlanʼs expression flattened.

Ayameʼs smile widened a fraction. She didnʼt flinch, didnʼt look away, didnʼt even have the decency to pretend she couldnʼt feel his telepathic voice pressing into her awareness. Her chin tilted up.

Ayameʼs composure held. Her eyes didnʼt waver.

But her hand slid from the katana sheath to rest behind her back, and Quinlan caught the way her fingers pressed together, just once.

she replied, tone even and dignified, as if she were accepting a formal duel rather than a bedroom threat.

Ayame gulped, but her grin remained.

He filed it away for later.

That woman would get exactly what she asked for. Every syllable of it.

His attention shifted.

Off to the side, chatting with Seraphiel and Sylvaris, were Miri and Luminara.

The sight stopped him mid-step.

Both women were watching him approach, and neither was doing a good job of hiding it. Miriʼs hands were clasped in front of her, knuckles white, her usual composure cracked in places she clearly hadnʼt managed to patch before he arrived. Luminara stood beside her with her arms held close to her body, chin dipped, eyes bright with a shimmer she kept blinking against.

They looked utterly dejected.

Right now, they looked like they were about to lose him all over again.

He released Auroraʼs and Kaeliraʼs hands and opened his arms.

That was all it took.

Miri broke first. She crossed the distance in three quick strides that abandoned every shred of dignity she possessed and crashed into his chest, arms locking around him with a fierceness that trembled at the edges. A choked sound escaped her, muffled against his shoulder, followed by a second one she couldnʼt suppress.

Luminara was half a breath behind. She pressed into his other side, face buried against his neck, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly her knuckles went pale. Her shoulders shook once. Then again.

Neither spoke.

They just held on.

Quinlan wrapped both arms around them, pulling them closer, one hand cradling the back of Miriʼs head and the other pressing firmly against Luminaraʼs spine. He didnʼt say anything either. Not yet. Some silences needed to exist on their own before words were allowed to fill them.

Miri sniffed hard. ”We just got you back...” she whispered, voice cracking in a way that made her sound nothing like the composed, regal woman the primordials knew. ”Itʼs not enough time…”

”I know,” he said.

Luminara pressed her forehead harder into his neck. ”We donʼt know when weʼll see you again...”

”I know,” he repeated, softer.

The group watched in silence. No one interrupted. No one cracked a joke or shifted impatiently. Whatever teasing energy had carried them through the day had quieted in the face of something that didnʼt need commentary.

Then Seraphiel spoke up.

”Quin, thereʼs still an hour or two before it becomes dangerous for us to remain, right? Why donʼt you spend some private time with your mothers?”

Vex nodded beside her. ”Sheʼs right. Chances are you wonʼt meet again until we leave Iskaris and then level up further...”

Blossomʼs tail wagged once, firm and decisive. ”Master and the kind mothers deserve it! They worked really hard without spending time together! Farewells should be said with content hearts!”

Miri and Luminara both stiffened.

They pulled back just enough to look at the three women who had spoken, eyes red-rimmed and still glistening, and the gratitude that filled their expressions was so raw and immediate that it needed no words.

Seraphiel smiled warmly.

Vex dipped her head.

Blossom puffed her chest out proudly, tail picking up speed.

Those three had just earned enough brownie points to last them through several future transgressions, and every woman present knew it.

Quinlan looked down at his mothers, still held in his arms. His throat felt tight, but his smile came easily.

”Far be it from me to say a heartless farewell,” he said.

His gaze softened further.

”The treehouse?”

Both women lit up.

”The treehouse!” they nodded in unison, and the way their voices overlapped with identical eagerness made them sound less like primordial beings and more like two girls whoʼd just been told their favorite person was staying for dinner after all.

Quinlan shifted his grip, sliding one arm around Miriʼs waist and the other around Luminaraʼs, and lifted them both off the ground in a single smooth motion. Their feet left the grass as he pulled them close against his sides.

Miri let out a startled sound that melted into a laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck as she nestled her head against his shoulder. Her eyes closed, and the tension that had wound through her body since the moment she realized he was leaving finally, truly, began to unravel.

Luminara tucked herself against his other side with a soft exhale, one hand resting on his chest above his heart as if confirming the beat was still there, still strong, still hers to listen to. Her cheek pressed against him, and the faintest smile crossed her lips.

Both women settled into his hold with a familiarity that spoke of something older and deeper than this visit. They fit against him as if theyʼd been held close to him a thousand times before.

Quinlan began walking, and neither woman looked back at the group or the gathered primordials or anything else. Their world had narrowed to the man carrying them, and for the next hour or two, that was exactly the size it needed to be.

Behind them, Blossom watched them go with her tail swaying contentedly.

”Master is a good son,” she declared to no one in particular.

Kiryssa, the sadistic drow, let out a slow breath. ”Yeah,” she agreed softly. ”He really is. Those two look happier than Iʼve seen them in billions of years.”

”Theyʼre happier than ever,” Thyra corrected. There was no room for the term ʼsince X timeʼ here.

…

Quinlan set them both down gently once they were inside.

Luminara immediately began fussing. ”Do you want tea? Snacks? Thereʼs fruit-”

”Letʼs just hold each other,” Quinlan said. ”Shall we?”

Both women went still.

Then Luminaraʼs face softened into the kind of smile that made her look ageless in a way that had nothing to do with being primordial. ”Okay!”

Miri didnʼt even respond verbally. She just pulled him down onto the wide, cushioned surface near the window and tucked herself under his arm before heʼd finished settling.

Luminara took the other side a heartbeat later, pressing close, with her hand finding its usual place over his chest.

And just like that, the world went quiet.

Time passed the way it only did in moments like these, gently and without announcement. Words came and went in no particular hurry, sometimes about nothing at all, sometimes trailing off into comfortable silence before anyone felt the need to fill it. Miri traced idle patterns on his arm. Luminara hummed a melody he didnʼt recognize but felt familiar regardless. At some point, the light through the window shifted, and nobody noticed or cared.

It was the kind of warmth that couldnʼt be manufactured or replicated, born entirely from proximity and trust and the simple, irreplaceable fact of being together.

Then Quinlan felt the shift.