Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

Lilith narrowed her eyes, her gaze fixed on Aureve with quiet intensity, something about the woman setting off a faint alarm inside her chest. She didn't know why... It wasn't anything Aureve said, nor the way she moved—but there was a strange feeling crawling under her skin, subtle and dissonant, like a whisper she couldn't quite hear but couldn't ignore either. And when she glanced at Miren, she saw the same look mirrored in the younger girl's face. Both of them felt an aura that didn't belong here. Faint. Almost untraceable. But unmistakably dark.

It was the kind of energy only those attuned to divine senses could detect, a spiritual residue that lingered just beneath the surface of Aureve's soul. It wasn't overwhelming. Not yet. But it was there. Buried. Coiled. Waiting.

And they both knew what that aura usually meant.

It was the kind tied to the servants of the Demon Lord.

The moment that realization settled between them, their guards rose in unison, invisible but absolute, their senses sharpening, magic stirring subtly beneath the surface. Neither said a word. But they didn't need to. Their bodies had already shifted. They were no longer watching a guest.

They were watching a threat.

Aureve, meanwhile, turned her gaze toward the two of them, and something flickered behind her eyes. Her face remained composed, lips soft, expression neutral—but in her stare, there was a moment of recognition. Surprise. A ripple of unease that danced through her golden eyes before she could mask it. Something inside her stirred, an ancient pulse buried deep, and for a heartbeat, her emotions spiraled into confusion and fear, mixing together in a haze that even she didn't seem to understand.

And then it was gone.

Her thoughts suddenly locked down, emotions hidden behind a wall so thick it felt unnatural. Lilith could feel it. So could Miren. As if something, or someone, was protecting her mind from being read. As if something inside her didn't want to be known.

"Eh?" Liraeth raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across her face. "Auntie, we're all women here, no need to hold back—you can tell us what's on your mind."

But Aureve shook her head gently, her gaze never quite settling, like she was walking a tightrope between pride and submission. "No… that's not what I mean," she said, voice soft but steady, "I need to speak with Sylvaris. In private."

There was a pause—just a breath too long.

She could feel the air shift, every eye watching her now, curious, suspicious, some amused.

"If you don't mind me stealing him away for a few moments," she added, lifting her chin with quiet boldness, "I'll be quick."

And there she stood, wrapped in that scandalous crimson dress that hugged every curve like it had been stitched from sin itself—asking for private time with a man who already looked like he was one breath away from dragging her somewhere dark. There was no way that beast inside him wouldn't react. His cock was already stirring in his pants, thickening from just a few glances, his control slipping every time her breasts shifted with the breeze or her hips tilted with that practiced grace that came from knowing exactly how desirable she was.

Fuck… this woman's trying to kill me, he thought, adjusting his grip on his sword as his jaw tightened.

The girls paused for a heartbeat, exchanging glances in the silence that followed Aureve's request. Some of them—Liraeth, Faylira, Lilith—shifted subtly, not speaking, but their eyes narrowed with quiet suspicion, the kind of guarded silence women wore when another vixen tried to slink in through the side. Their instincts were sharp. And they'd already seen enough to know something was off.

The sisters, though… they didn't sense it. Not really. Not the truth. They were too innocent. Too trusting. Too blind to the heat hiding behind Aureve's soft-spoken voice and sinful dress. To them, she was still their stepmother. Elegant. Distant. Bound to their father. The idea of her cheating—especially with someone younger, especially with Sylvaris—never even crossed their minds.

"Sure, Auntie," Lurevia chimed in with a smile, brushing it off with ease, her voice laced in light teasing. "Sylvaris is a free soul, as we all know, haha~" She gave her brother a playful wink as she skipped across the grass, her skirt fluttering behind her.

Sylvaris, meanwhile, was just about to stand, hands pressing to the ground as he caught his breath, but when he heard her coming and felt her energy approaching, he quickly reconsidered. He remained low, back arched slightly as he turned his head, his golden eyes flicking toward her, calculating the seconds he needed before getting up.

Because right now, he had a bit of a problem. A very visible, very inconvenient problem...

His cock had been steadily hardening ever since Aureve showed up dressed like sex incarnate, and while his women would've teased or praised him for it, maybe even dragged him off behind a tree to relieve it, his sisters? Fuck no. He adored them, protected them, kept them as far from the filth in his mind as possible. They were sweet. Pure. Untouched by the kind of urges running through his veins right now. The last thing he needed was for Lurevia to catch a glimpse of that very unholy bulge tenting his pants.

So he stayed crouched, adjusting his body subtly, pretending to tie his boot, trying to will his cock down, trying to think of anything that wasn't Aureve's cleavage or thighs or that damn smile she gave him when no one was looking.

Just a few more seconds… god... give me a break…

"Sylvaris! Come! Come! Stepmother wants to tell you a secret~! We want to know too, goo~!" Lurevia chirped, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him off the ground like an excited puppy dragging her favorite toy.

But Sylvaris held firm, heels digging into the earth. "Not right now! Wait—I said wait!"

And then it happened. He turned too fast, caught off guard by her strength—and the motion twisted his hips just right.

Poor girls...

Today, Sylvaris's sweet little sisters learned the hard way that their dear brother… was very much a man. And the massive boner outlined against his pants, sticking out like a damn flagpole, left a trauma they might never recover from.