Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 928: Slutty Foxy and Hexwitch

“Introduce us to our new daughters-in-law!!” they demanded together, eyes glowing with primordial intensity.

Quinlan sighed.

“Of course you do,” he murmured. Honestly, he’d seen this coming since the moment they blinked in sync earlier.

With the grace of someone who had long since accepted his fate, he slid his hands along their wet, toned backs and drew them down toward himself until their foreheads pressed against his once again.

“All right, Mothers… Let’s start with my sexy, slutty, foxy girlfriend…”

“Kitsara.”

A surge of soul memory flowed through the connection in the form of brief, focused flashes:

➤ A white-haired foxkin sorceress with dangerous curves, wearing criminally little and smirking like a predator the first time they met.

➤ Her leaping into Quinlan’s arms right after they’d just met, as if she were a loose woman.

➤ Their wild coupling that followed high above the clouds, her then single tail coiled around his waist, screaming ecstasy into the wind above Canisgard, where multiple dogkin citizens might’ve heard their beloved princess wail pure obscenities as he fucked her brains out.

➤ The infamous mansion basement, outfitted with suspicious chains, silk ropes, and many other questionable items.

➤ Kitsara, bound elegantly in a lacquered darkwood BDSM frame, looking utterly blissful despite the swats of magical discipline being applied to her, while Quinlan lectured her calmly on proper behavior and how she was not to offer any pegging sessions to him ever again. Even the implications would result in big trouble for her.

➤ His other girls nearby, sipping tea and watching in casual amusement, chatting amicably with one another.

By the time the memory stream ended, the mothers had grown… significantly paler, losing their healthy skin colors.

They leaned back in his arms, blinking as if coming down from a misunderstood dream.

“…He really does have a thing for the crazies,” Mearie muttered to Luminara.

“He always has,” Luminara whispered back. “But it’s getting worse… Only Jasmine seemed to be the perfectly normal girl of his. Ayame… Seraphiel… Aurora… Blossom… Lucille… They each had their problems, but none were this bad… It’s like Quinnie is going down a slippery slope, and he’s loving every second of it!”

Quinlan, unimpressed by the words aimed at his precious foxkin lover, tightened his hold around their waists, making them yelp in unison.

“No badmouthing my girls,” he warned.

Then his grin twisted, becoming sharp, dark, and wickedly amused.

“Oh, and if you think Kitsara was unhinged…” he purred, sitting up slightly between them, elemental eyes gleaming with pure mischief.

“…Just wait until you meet number eight.”

The moment Quinlan purred those ominous words, both mothers stiffened.

Luminara and Mearie gulped in unison, eyes narrowing at the sheer darkness—and thrill—in their son’s voice. That twisted smirk, those eyes that shimmered with mischief and elemental clarity… This wasn’t just a tease. This was a warning.

A glance passed between them. Silent, wordless, and deeply motherly.

’We have to see.’

’We must correct Quinnie if this one’s truly horrible.’

’That’s the only thing we can do to protect him for as long as we’re in exile.’

’We’ll do what needs to be done. Even if it means having Quinnie hate us.’

Resolute, they leaned forward again, foreheads pressing against their son’s with divine grace and maternal duty.

“Meet Vex,” Quinlan said softly, letting the name hang in the air like poison laced with sugar. “My beloved Hexwitch.”

And then the visions came.

…

Blood.

Vex danced through it like it was rose petals in a spring meadow.

Her white hair kept in a neat ponytail streamed behind her like a flag of madness as she smirked mid-combat, skewering her opponents through the heart. Her foes didn’t even get a chance to cry out.

A Lionkin squadron charged in, and she turned into a blur, striking with wicked pleasure. Her hatred for lionkin practically oozed from her presence, a racial grudge turned battlefield obsession. Many times, she kicked the severed head of a fallen soldier out of pure hatred.

Her rank:

Third highest ranking member of the drug department, and thanks to Black Fang’s rather lackluster involvement in day-to-day operations, she was the second highest ranking member in effect. Which meant—by simple association—she’d inadvertently caused suffering to millions just by helping her department function.

…

The memories ended.

The mothers dislodged instantly, blinking as if waking from a fever dream.

This time, their expressions weren’t wry or curious. They were deeply, seriously concerned.

Mearie ran a hand through her wet hair, brow furrowed. “That… that girl’s dangerous.”

Luminara nodded slowly, worry written across her golden brows. “And not just to others. She might be dangerous to you.”

Quinlan sat there calmly, eyes watching them with quiet amusement. He knew what they were thinking.

“She’s too broken for our boy.”

“She’s too dark, too cruel.”

“We must protect him from her.”

He let the silence linger.

Then, his grin returned, all wicked charm and absolute certainty.

“Mothers…” he said smoothly, voice like honey over steel. “…I’m not done just yet.”

With a swift tug of his hands on their backs, he pulled them back down.

Memory stream, round two.

There she was.

Throwing herself in front of a massive lionkin’s devastating strike aimed at Quinlan during the Lionheart Siege. Her arms spread wide, taking the hit for Quinlan without a single ounce of hesitation present in her mind. She didn’t care about herself one bit if it meant saving him.

She wasn’t even his girlfriend at the time. Just… someone greatly obsessed.

Then a montage of flirtation came. Snarky innuendos, whispered promises, bedroom eyes.

Then…

The Night.

Candles. Ritual circles. Bare skin and lingering kisses.

Her words soft, yet feverish.

“I choose you, Quinlan Elysiar. Become my Primordial Villain. My Harbinger of Ruin. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. Forever and ever.”

“I offer myself… body, soul, magic… all that I am, and all that I will ever become, belongs to you, Quinlan.”

“This ritual is my curse… and my gift. A sacred magic that a Hexwitch may invoke but once in her lifetime. It can only be cast for a man she loves beyond doubt, for if even a shadow of uncertainty lingers in her heart, the magic will shatter.”

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