My Taboo Harem!

The reception was held in Phei’s penthouse.

Originally, the night had been planned to end down in the hall, with the speeches, the gifts, Sienna fleeing her own birthday in a midnight McLaren, and everyone pretending that was not the most Sienna ending imaginable but Maddie had called that plan a "complete lack of vision," which was rich coming from a woman whose own vision for life seemed to involve chaos, expensive things, and emotional terrorism.

According to her, the penthouse existed for exactly this.

For what?

Phei was finding out!

The enormous upper residence had swallowed everyone without effort. People sat around the lounge in bright clusters, drinking, chatting, exploring the famous penthouse half the legacy heirs on Hell’s Paradise Island had probably wondered about from a distance now they could see it in the wide glass walls., impossible view and the private warmth layered over obscene wealth.

The long couches were filled, the polished floors, the soft lights, the bar, the balcony, the high ceiling, the subtle cold elegance of the place.

It was absurdly large.

Naturally, it still felt crowded despite they barely occupied it all.

Phei took the last drop of wine from his glass and handed it to a passing waiter.

Usually, he would not bother with wine. He liked control too much, and alcohol, in most people, was just poor decision-making but tonight was Sienna’s birthday; a day for loosening up.

Besides, the wine would not affect him anyway.

The taste was good.

So why not savor it?

His gaze moved through the room and stopped on Dravenna.

That was the only thing he would rather be doing than watching everyone else enjoy themselves.

She stood near Elena, speaking about something Phei should have been able to hear but he did not; the whole penthouse had become strangely muted around him and conversations faded into the useless noise of a world that had failed to produce anything more interesting than the woman in ivory silk.

Dravenna Ashford had no right to look that good in his penthouse.

The Grecian gown still wrapped her like a provocation given form. Ivory silk molded itself to the right abundance of her bosom, the delicate fabric straining across the generous, weighty curves before cascading downward in liquid folds that only just contained them.

It gathered at her hip with gold filigree, hugging the ripe, prominent curve of her backside before spilling into that long, sheer train. Every movement reshaped her as the dress glided over the full, womanly flare of her hot and shapely medium hips and the powerful, rounded length of her thighs like it was reluctant to let go.

And she felt him the moment Phei took one step forward to her, Dravenna’s jade eyes found him:

Dravenna had been keeping track of him the whole time without giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. The instant he moved to her, something shifted in her aura, it was a subtle brightening like blade of lust sliding from its sheath by a finger’s width.

But beneath that pride, something hotter stirred.

Her still body remembered him more than his did and all this time she’d been hungering for him to do something yet he’d been waiting for her.

Now, standing in his penthouse in this dress that felt suddenly too thin, too revealing, too much like an invitation she had meant to send, Dravenna felt the slow, treacherous draconic lust low in her belly as her Mate took a step towards her.

Her thighs pressed together subtly beneath and her perky sized breasts felt heavier, more sensitive, the nipples tightening further against the fabric with every breath. She hated how aware she was of him.

She hated how her pulse had quickened the second his Dragon Dominance and presence brushed the air and yet she liked that proud part of her; the dangerous Dragoness of Paradise who wanted him to close the distance and finish what they had started long ago.

Phei smiled.

It’s on, Dravenna.

She lifted one corner of her mouth.

Barely; a dare.

Had any woman ever challenged him so openly? Maybe. He could not remember. His mind had stopped doing historical research the moment her eyes caught his and refused to look away.

He crossed the room.

Natasha Sinclair, Gianna Romano and Amber Castellano stood in a small cluster nearby.

They expected him to look at them but he did not; not even once.

Natasha’s brows lifted, Gianna blinked as if her pride had been lightly slapped; Amber, however, followed the line of his approach and shook her head; she pointed toward Dravenna.

The other two looked and saw Elena already preparing to make herself scarce and Dravenna waiting.

Their bruised egos recovered at once.

Ah~

So that was where the dragon was headed.

And because the three of them were watching the hunt instead of being its target, they did the thing women left standing on the bank always did. They began to commentate. Gianna leaned into Natasha and murmured something behind her glass that made the Sinclair girl’s cool composure crack into a low, unwilling laugh.

Amber crossed her arms beneath her chest and informed them both, with the wounded authority she had earned by being forehead-kissed into submission not two hours ago, that whatever was about to happen, it was Dravenna’s funeral.

Gianna disagreed. Loudly, for a whisper. The three of them settled in like spectators who had paid for the good seats and intended to enjoy them.

If Phei had looked at them properly, perhaps the night would have veered into another future entirely. Natasha’s cool beauty, Gianna’s warm curves and Amber; all of them standing together like some future temptation with three names and terrible timing.

Fuck, they were hot!

But not tonight, his eyes had chosen war in ivory silk.

Phei reached Dravenna and stopped just far enough away to be polite.

Too far away to touch but close enough that she knew he wanted to.

"Dean."

Dravenna’s eyes moved over him slowly; too slowly for innocence: "Phei."

The way she said his name carried a teacher’s correction and a woman’s amusement, both polished until neither looked fully guilty.

Her heart beat faster; the warmth between her thighs had become a slow, insistent throb of wetness.

She hated how her body betrayed her — how just standing this close to him made her silk gown feel tighter as her nipples ached against the fabric and her mind kept flashing back to the way he had kissed her in her office, the way his hands had claimed her waist with no permission and with so much confidence without fear of doing that to his Dean; she had almost let him take more.

"I have to admit," he said, "I am surprised to see you tonight. After so long."

Her smile sharpened. "After so long?"

"How long has it been again?"

"Is that entitlement I hear in your voice, Dear student Phei?" Dravenna asked, tilting her head. "Or wounded pride? How fascinating. Did we perhaps have a prior arrangement between us that I failed to fulfill?"

Elena’s eyes slid between them.

Then she took half a step back.

Wise girl.

Phei did not let Dravenna’s tone touch him, not this time, so he smiled like she had merely amused him.

"Gee," he said softly. "What a wild imagination you have."

Dravenna’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"I was only saying," Phei continued, "that I do not remember inviting you. And yet here you are."

She lowered her glass to a nearby table.

"Careful," she said. "You are beginning to sound like a host."

"If I did not know better, I would think the infamous Dragoness of Paradise had either crashed the party..." His gaze dipped over her gown, lingering on the way the ivory silk stretched tight over the generous contours of her breasts before plunging to expose that long, smooth strip of waist, the gold ornament at her hip, the high slit that kept flashing the smooth, toned length of her thigh with every tiny shift of her weight.

"Or she came after me."

Dravenna laughed softly. "Quite an imagination you have, student Phei."

"What can I say?" He stepped half a pace closer. "I cannot think of many reasons why the Dean of Ashford Elite Academy would show up uninvited to her student’s birthday party. Can you?" He was hinting on her relationship between her and Sienna.

"Maybe," Dravenna said, taking one step toward him, "I have a connection with the said student and her family."

There; she was trying to take the lead and admitting her relationship with Sienna without beating around the bush.

Just like in her office, Phei could feel the rhythm of it:

The same quiet trap to let him move first, then take control of the pace. She let him believe he was advancing, then bend the moment around her smile. Back then, he had made the first move and still allowed her to drive the rest of their intimate collision. T

hat had ended with him waiting for a call that never came.

That was history he was not revisiting it.

Phei stepped closer but it was not aggressive but like a man taking space that had already become his.

His Dragon Dominance had been quiet tonight, leashed beneath laughter, wine, affection and birthday warmth. It was not something he activated with a grand gesture now but it breathed with him and lived in his presence:

Since the loss of the old Dominance Aura, this was no longer a neat ability sitting apart from him but it had become part of how he occupied the world.

And when his intent sharpened, it unfurled with his desire and his intent; it was lust or anger, or wrath he felt, the Dragon Dominance reacted to that.

But right now was a soft moment so the space around him only gained weight.