The Heroine is My Stepsister, and I'm her Final Boss-Chapter 138: Seeds

The next morning arrived like a slap. No fanfare. Just the dull, bitter taste of guilt that clung to the back of Atlas’s throat like smoke.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t breathe.

Just transformed.

The shift was second nature now—his spine straightened, his face adjusted subtly with the spell’s anchor, and his once-dark hair cascaded into a yellow veil. Eyes sharpened into a warm, yellow hue. Clothes reshaped around him, same cut as before—diplomatic, noble, unthreatening. Familiar.

Viscount Aiden walked again.

And the Emerald Palace, gilded and humming with illusions, welcomed him back like a ghost returning to its unfinished haunt.

He moved through the halls silently, every step rehearsed, every glance calculated. The walls felt colder this time, or maybe he just noticed the cold now that a piece of his warmth was tangled in regret.

Then he saw her.

Daisy.

A flash of yellow hair and red-rimmed eyes dressed up with thick makeup that failed to hide the truth. Her face was painted in quiet devastation. Her smile—a cracked porcelain thing.

He slowed. Could’ve ignored her. Should’ve. But guilt was an anchor, and his feet were already moving toward her before his thoughts could object.

She turned, sensing him.

And their eyes locked.

"Oh... My Lord Aiden." Her voice wobbled despite her effort to keep it poised. "It’s been a while. Her High...ness has been looking for you the whole day."

Her words came too fast, too formal, too careful.

"So I’ve been told..." Atlas replied, his voice caught somewhere between softness and apology. "Daisy, I’m so—"

"No," she cut in quickly. Too quickly. Her lips trembled for just a second. "I... I won’t tell anybody."

Atlas blinked. "It’s not about that. It wasn’t supposed to—"

"I know." She didn’t look at him. "No need to elaborate, my lord Aiden. It was my fault. For... for garnering feelings. For having expectations. For being stupid."

She turned before he could say anything else. Her heels clicked too fast against the marble. The sound of a woman running from her own delusions.

He scratched the back of his head. That guilt now coiled like a serpent around his ribs.

He could’ve stopped it.

He should’ve.

But he didn’t.

Because if he was being honest, brutally honest with himself—he’d enjoyed it.

Too much.

The surrender in Isabella’s eyes, the way she had melted under his touch, the way she had made herself his despite being someone no one ever tamed—it had awakened something he didn’t understand.

And didn’t want to admit.

It wasn’t just a mission anymore.

It was a game.

And he was starting to like playing it.

"Viscount Aiden!"

The call snapped him back.

Her voice.

That voice.

Isabella.

He turned.

She strode toward him, radiant and wrathful in the same breath. Her emerald dress shimmered like poison under sunlight. Her hair fell loose today, wilder than usual, and her lips—still painted that cursed shade of red—were drawn into a smirk that promised something worse than punishment.

"Oh... Your Highness," he offered smoothly.

"Don’t you ’Your Highness’ me," she snapped, eyes narrow, yet burning. "Where the fuck did you disappear yesterday?" frёeωebɳovel.com

Before he could answer, she grabbed his wrist—her touch colder than expected, but firm, grounded. She pulled him with her, weaving past stunned staff who quickly looked away.

Aiden followed her in, his boots scuffing the polished floor, his blonde hair damp from the storm outside, golden eyes wary but flickering with a heat he couldn’t deny.

The door slammed shut behind them, and Isabella twisted the lock with a sharp click, the sound a gunshot in the silence. She turned, her gown whispering against her thighs, and before he could speak, she was on him, clinging like a vine, her body pressed flush against his.

Her lips crashed into his, a feral assault of heat and need, their tongues coiling together in a dance of raw, desperate want. She tasted of wine and sin, her teeth grazing his lower lip, drawing a low groan from his throat.

Her hands roamed, nails raking his chest through his shirt, her hips grinding against his, waking the traitor in his breeches that throbbed for her despite his resolve. His hands gripped her waist, half to steady himself, half to pull her closer, the line between resistance and surrender blurring with every sweep of her tongue.

Gods, she’s a storm, he thought, his heart pounding, his mind reeling from the memory of their last encounter—her lips around him, her victory in their bet, the leash she’d snapped around his soul.

"Aiden," she purred against his mouth, voice husky, a velvet lash that made his cock twitch. But he pulled back, breath ragged, his hands tightening on her waist to hold her still.

"Isabella, stop," he said, voice rough, cracked with the effort of restraint. "I need to tell you something." His golden eyes searched hers, pleading for a moment, a breath to confess—what? His defiance? His plan to free Ellara, the mage she’d dangled like bait? The guilt that gnawed at him for Daisy’s tears, for Claire’s fire, for his own weakness?

But Isabella was a fiend, a thirsty, lustful creature who saw only her prize. Her eyes darkened, her smile wicked as she ignored his plea, her hands moving to his belt with ruthless precision. The leather snapped free, and she yanked his pants down, the fabric pooling at his ankles, his cock springing free, hard and pulsing with need.

She sank to her knees, her gown fanning around her like spilled blood, and looked up at him, her lips inches from his tip. "I missed you, Aiden," she voiced, her tone dripping with want, raw and unfiltered. "Missed this... your dick inside me...Did you know... You made me feel satisfied for the first time in my entire life. You were the one to do it."

Her words were a blade, cutting through his resolve, stirring the heat in his blood. He groaned, hands clenching at his sides, fighting the urge to grab her, to give in. "Isabella..." he started, but she rose, pressing herself against him again, her lips brushing his ear.

"Tell me whatever you want to tell me," she whispered, voice a sultry command, "after you pound me like your slave. Like I’m your property." Her hands gripped his cock, stroking with a slow, deliberate pressure that made his vision blur, her nails grazing just enough to spark pain with pleasure. "Fuck me, Aiden. Own me."

The words broke him. With a growl, he pushed her to the desk, her back slamming against the oak, papers scattering like leaves in a storm. His hands tore at her gown, ripping the silk to reveal what lay beneath—a black lace corset, sheer and seductive to the core, hugging her curves like a lover’s hands. Stockings clung to her thighs, garters biting into her skin, and nothing else covered her, her pussy bare and glistening with want.

Gods, she planned this, he thought, his control shattering like glass. Isabella smiled, a wicked, triumphant curve of her lips, and spread her legs, one hand trailing down her stomach to tease herself, fingers circling her clit.

"Come," she said, voice a purr that could shame the devil. "Take what’s yours."

Aiden attacked her like a hungry animal, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider as he positioned himself between them. He thrust into her, hard and deep, no hesitation, no mercy.

"Aaaahhh!!!"

The slap of their skin colliding echoed around the room, a raw, primal rhythm that drowned out the rain. She was tight, hot, slick with desire, her walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper. Isabella moaned, loud and unrestrained, her voice a siren’s call that set his nerves ablaze.

"Oh yesss!....that’s the stuff!! Ohh!!...aahhh!!"

"Fuck, Aiden," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red trails through his shirt. "Harder. Make me scream."

He obeyed, his hips slamming into hers, the desk creaking under their weight, papers sliding to the floor. Her moans grew louder, a crescendo of pleasure and pain, her body arching to meet his thrusts. "Aah! Aah! Aah!....You’re so fucking big," she voiced, her words dirty, dripping with lust. "Fill me, Aiden. Make me yours." Her hands roamed, one tangling in his blonde hair, tugging hard, the other clawing at his back, urging him deeper.

He increased his speed, reaching deeper, each thrust a claim, a rebellion against her leash even as he surrendered to her body. The chandelier swayed above, crystals clinking like a warning, the room a furnace of their heat. Her pussy pulsed around him, wet and desperate, and he felt the pressure building, a tide he couldn’t hold back.

"Isabella," he growled, voice raw, his hands gripping her hips, bruising her skin as he pounded harder, the slap of their bodies a war drum in the silence.

"Yes, yes, fuck me!" she cried, her voice breaking, her emerald eyes wild with need. "Own me, Aiden. Make me your slut." Her words were a spark, igniting the fire in his blood, and he thrust deeper, hitting a spot that made her scream, her body convulsing as she came, her pussy spasming around him, soaking his cock with her release.

The sensation pushed him to the edge, his control fraying, but he held on, driven by her command, her need, his own desperate want to claim her. "You’re mine...mine to use...and mine to play," he growled, voice a low, feral rumble, his thrusts relentless, each one a vow to break her as she’d broken him. Her moans filled the room, a symphony of surrender, her nails drawing blood now, marking him as hers even as he claimed her.

"More," she gasped, her voice hoarse, her body trembling with aftershocks. "Don’t stop. Fuck me! Aah! Aaahhh!...aahh!!...fuck me! until I can’t think."

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, her heels digging into his back. He obliged, his pace brutal, the desk shaking, the chandelier’s light flickering like a dying star. Her second climax hit, her scream echoing off the stone, her pussy clenching so tight it nearly undid him.

"Isabella..." he groaned, his voice breaking, the pressure in his cock unbearable. She reached between them, fingers brushing his balls, squeezing just enough to spark pain with pleasure, and he lost it. With a strangled cry, he came, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with a flood of heat that made her moan, her eyes locked on his, triumphant and sated.

They collapsed against the desk, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat and desire. Isabella’s hand slid to his face, thumb brushing his lips, a possessive gesture that made his heart stutter. "Now," she whispered, voice soft but commanding, "tell me what you wanted to say."

But he stayed shut. His attention elsewhere. As his system notification rang to his face.

[Yggdrasil seeds resonating....]

[Seed planted on host Isabellaa]

[Seeds flourished]

[Options

1:Make her pregnant.

2:Recycle mana.

3:Create

Choose....]

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