Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

Not long after

The remnants of dinner had been cleared away, leaving the living area bathed in the soft, goow of the house's evening lights.

Time seemed to slow, settling into a comfortable quiet filled with the low murmur of conversation.

Zaeryn was the undisputed center of this quiet universe, comfortably sandwiched on a plush couch between Aeris and Ravena. Ravena was draped across his lap, her head resting on his thigh, the languid weight of her body a warm, possessive claim.

On his other side, Aeris leaned heavily against him, her arm linked with his, her fingers tracing idle, teasing patterns on his bicep. The warm pressure of her breast against his arm was a constant, pleasant distraction.

He didn't mind the contact; in fact, his body hummed with a low-level energy, the Eros Engine quietly feeding on the casual intimacy. And he felt more at home like this.

Across from them, Mireille and Arya were also hanging out with them, though Mireille's posture was hard, a silent protest against the unprofessional coziness of the evening. She didn't like that she was socializing with them, as she was here to do a job, not to fraternize, or to make friends with Zaeryn's family.

And initially she had made it clear. After dinner she was about to leave. Still, Arya's insistence had won out, and she remained a reluctant observer.

"I have to ask," Aeris began, her gaze shifting from Zaeryn to the stoic Warlady across from them. "Why the sword, Mireille? Does that mean you're a Tier 5 Vitae wielder? Not very strong?"

Mireille's lips, which had been set in a neutral line all evening, twitched with the barest hint of a smirk. "Actually," she said, her voice smooth and even, "it's the opposite. I'm a Tier 2." She let the weight of that rank settle in the room before continuing. "I have two Class A abilities—neither safe for urban environments. I still struggle to control them once I'm in a fight and could cause… significant collateral damage if I used them. The sword helps me regulate my Vitae. It contains the output."

Kayla, who had been pointedly ignoring Zaeryn all evening, let out a sharp scoff from her solitary chair. "A Tier 2 Warlady," she said, her tone dripping with disdain as her cold eyes landed on Mireille. "And you're wasted playing babysitter for him. You should be serving in the frontlines or some other important role"

"I agree," Mireille said flatly,"Finally, someone who understands." She added.

"I know," Zaeryn said softly, his voice cutting through the tension. He met Mireille's gaze directly. "I know this isn't where you belong. And I'm sorry about that."

He was being honest. He understood the sacrifice they were making; it was a demotion, a waste of their power on a task they saw as trivial.

"We appreciate what you and Arya are doing," Ysmeine added from a nearby seat, her tone warm and sincere. "More than you know."

"You're welcome," Mireille responded, offering a curt nod.

Ravena shifted on Zaeryn's lap, turning her attention to the other agent. "What about you? Why the sword?"

Arya's expression brightened instantly. "Honestly? Because I think it's cool," she admitted with a self-deprecating shrug. "Plus, it multiplies my power output. For me, the blade is a much better conduit for Vitae than bare hands."

A slow grin spread across Zaeryn's face. "So, you're not just a powerful agent, but a stylish one too? I approve."

Arya's cheeks warmed at his direct, flirty tone, but she met his gaze without flinching. "Well," she said, her voice dropping a little, "someone has to look good while protecting... national treasures."

The comment hung in the air, a deliberate, playful challenge. Ravena, who had been listening while possessively draped over him, shifted. Her hand found his, which was resting on her stomach. Slowly, deliberately, she guided it upward, moving it from the flat plane of her midriff to the soft swell of her breast.

"Careful, now," she purred, her green eyes narrowing playfully as she pressed his palm firmly against her chest, letting him feel the hardening peak of her nipple through the thin fabric of her top. "This 'treasure' is already claimed."

A jolt, sharp and electric, shot up Zaeryn's arm. He had not expected her to claim him so boldly, not with every eye on them.

Instead of pulling away, a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. His fingers, which had been passive, curled instinctively, his palm molding to the soft, full weight of her breast.

Zaeryn's fingers tightened in a slow, deliberate squeeze, claiming the curve of her breast. Ravena gasped, biting down on her lip as her body arched toward him, her subtle shiver betraying just how much the boldness thrilled her.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble meant only for her. "Then I suppose I should take better care of my property."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned her chin with his free hand and captured her mouth, in a deep and claiming kiss, a silent declaration to the entire room.

Her lips parted instantly, and he took full advantage, his tongue sweeping inside to meet hers in a dance of dominance and desire.

Mireille arched a brow at the display. 'This family….' she thought, ' is utterly without restraint.' Although strangely, Mireille found herself drawn to this.

She had to admit it—there was a certain charm to them all together. Even though she didn't want to feel it, she felt… welcomed.

Marceline let out a low, throaty chuckle of pure approval. Aeris's breath hitched, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and vicarious thrill, while Arya's cheeks flushed crimson, her thoughts betraying her as heat coiled low in her belly. 'He's such a good kisser…'

Across the room, Kayla turned away with a sound of utter disgust.

When he finally pulled back, Ravena was breathless, her lips swollen and her eyes hazy with triumph.

Zaeryn felt the heat of their collective gazes. He saw the open admiration in Arya's eyes, the amused, knowing warmth in Marceline's, the possessive fire in Ravena's, and the playful challenge in Aeris's. Even Mireille's professional mask seemed to flicker with a hint of curiosity.

Only Kayla's stare remained a beacon of pure, cold disgust.

Just then, a soft yawn from Ysmeine finally broke the spell, though her eyes flicked to Zaeryn. "Alright, everyone. It's been a long day, and I don't want to miss the new episode of Royal Reckoning, so… goodnight."

She stood, but instead of heading for the corridor, she moved toward him. Leaning down, she captured his lips in a deep, lingering kiss that was anything but maternal.

When she pulled back, she smiled. "It wouldn't be a goodnight without my goodnight kiss, now would it? Goodnight, I love you."

With that, she turned and glided from the room.

Marceline stretched languidly, the movement pulling the fabric of her dress taut against her perfect curves. "I think I will call it a night as well." She rose, and as she passed Zaeryn's sofa, she paused and leaned in, her voice a sultry whisper meant only for him, "Come find me if you get bored, we'll watch Royal reckoning together," She said.

The gathering began to break apart. Mireille and Arya stood. "Zaeryn let us know if you have to go anywhere tomorrow" Mireille stated, her tone back to its usual professional clip.

Zaeryn nodded.

"Goodnight," Arya added, her smile warm as her eyes lingered on Zaeryn for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

One by one, the others drifted off to their respective rooms, including Ravena and Aeris, leaving the living area in a state of warm, comfortable silence, charged with the promises of the night.

Zaeryn headed to his own room, the events of the day finally crashing down on him. Yet, as he lay in the dark, sleep wouldn't come.

The nap he got earlier that day, had made it hard for him to drift off to sleep.

He tossed the sheets aside with a sigh. 'Guess, I'll go to sleep late today too." He thought.

He decided to get out of his room. The house was silent, but he knew not everyone was asleep. His thoughts drifted to Marceline, and he decided to visit her.

Padding silently through the halls, he arrived outside her room and pressed a button.

When Marceline opened the door, a slow smile appeared on her lips. She wore a floor-length robe of deep crimson silk, tied loosely at the waist, its fabric clinging to her wicked hourglass figure.

The front was trimmed with intricate black lace that traced the deep V of the neckline, drawing his eye to the soft upper curves of her full breasts.

"I'm bored, and you said I should come see you if I am." Zaeryn saidm

"Come in, Zae," she purred, stepping back to let him pass. "I was just getting to the good part."