Eira watched from her invisible perch in the corner of the room, and for the first time in a very, very long time, the ancient fairy was genuinely surprised.

Not by the sex — she’d seen enough of that to write a multiverse-spanning erotic encyclopedia and still have material left for the bonus Chapters.

Not even by the Mark itself, blooming bright and alive beneath Roxanne’s left breast like a smug little dragon sinking its teeth into fresh, prime real estate.

What stunned her was the speed.

Phei had marked this woman on the first day.

The first damn day.

Yet he hadn’t marked Valentina yet — Valentina, who had given him everything, surrendered completely, and waited with saint-like patience for the honor of wearing his claim like a good little devotee.

He hadn’t offered it to Patricia Bloom either. Hadn’t even whispered the possibility of Marking the Ashford Madam despite the soul-binding, furniture-breaking nights they’d shared.

But Roxanne? A woman whose daughter was already his, who had crawled to him bruised, broken, and desperate like a stray cat begging for milk?

He’d Marked her faster than he’d claimed Melissa.

Faster than anyone.

Eira’s eyes narrowed with sharp, delighted fascination as she studied the pair on the bed. Roxanne was riding him now, hips rolling in desperate, greedy circles, head thrown back, moans spilling from her throat like a symphony composed exclusively for her broken husband’s ears.

The Mark beneath her breast pulsed with every deep thrust — glowing, breathing, alive in a way that made Eira’s ancient senses tingle with dark, wicked delight.

There was something different about this Mark.

A lively, hungry throb the other Marks on his women lacked.

Even Melissa’s, the very first and most significant, didn’t pulse like this.

This one felt like it was breathing. Like it had opinions and it was already planning its next hostile takeover.

Eira tilted her head, studying the phenomenon with growing, almost gleeful intrigue.

The throb had everything to do with his awakening. She was certain of it now. Something deep inside Phei had finally clicked open — some ancient lock dissolving, some hidden seal he hadn’t even known existed shattering like cheap glass at a rock concert.

And then the truth hit her like a freight train made of irony.

Phei’d been stalling.

Not consciously.

But somewhere in the depths of his soul, Phei had been refusing to mark anyone else since Maddie. Holding back from the women who should be wearing his Mark like it was the hottest new accessory.

Waiting — without realizing he was waiting — for whatever piece of him had been incomplete to finally become whole.

And Roxanne, of all people, had been the key?

This beaten, starving, spiteful woman who had begged him to fuck her in front of her husband as the ultimate act of revenge. Who had cried tears of absolute surrender while accepting exactly what their future would look like and offered herself with such pure, unhesitating conviction that it had unlocked something even Phei didn’t know was locked.

To think she would be the catalyst. Eira’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile that could curdle milk.

Fate really did have a twisted, delicious sense of humor after all. It had taken a battered housewife with a grudge and turned her into the cosmic skeleton key.

Bravo, cosmos. Ten out of ten. No notes.

Roxanne’s moans climbed higher, raw and broken and gloriously unhinged. She was close again — her third, maybe fourth orgasm; Eira had honestly lost count in all the artistic screaming — her pussy clenching around Phei’s cock with desperate, rhythmic hunger.

Her heavy breasts bounced with every roll of her hips, the glowing Mark beneath the left one pulsing brighter, the dragon’s amethyst eyes seeming to flash with smug satisfaction like it was personally proud of its new real estate.

Both mother and daughter now.

His eternal women.

His Mark on their skin.

Eira wondered idly if Sierra knew yet. Wondered how the princess would react when she learned her mother had been claimed — that the woman who had suffered in silence for twenty years to protect her was now bound to the exact same man Sierra had given herself to completely.

That conversation was going to be chef’s kiss levels of chaotic. She could already picture the frozen shock, the slow realization, the beautiful family meltdown.

Popcorn would be required. Possibly therapy for the survivors.

But not now.

Now something far more interesting was happening.

Phei’s vision tunneled.

The bedroom, the bed, the woman riding him like her life depended on it, the pathetic wreck of a husband frozen on the floor — everything faded to static at the edges of his awareness. Something vast and golden and impossibly warm was rising inside him, slamming against barriers he hadn’t even known were there.

Then the barriers shattered.

[DING!

[Seal Lifted! Upgrade: Healing Touch leveled up to Lv10!

DxD Element Unlocked: Dragon’s Regeneration!

Descriptions:-

Dragon’s Regeneration!: Host can now heal almost instantly. Healing Element is not limited to physical injuries, modern diseases, or supernatural wounds.

Note: Supernatural infections with eroding effects will take time to heal and may be... painful.

Healing Touch Lv10: Host can now heal anything with a single touch on targets!

Warning: Host is currently weak. Further upgrades to Healing Touch will only be possible after awakening the Life Element.]

Phei read the glowing notification while Roxanne kept riding him like the world was ending in the best possible way.

Her hips moved faster, chasing another peak, inner walls gripping him with wet, desperate hunger. But part of his mind had split — one half still lost in the wet heat of her body, the other processing the impossible power that had just unlocked inside him.

Dragon’s Regeneration.

Healing Touch at level 10.

Something had been sealed inside him all this time, and marking Roxanne — claiming her so completely — had broken that seal wide open like a piñata full of divine loot.

His hands moved on pure instinct.

They slid up her back, palms pressing flat against the ugly map of bruises that covered her skin. Purple. Black. Sickly yellow. The brutal signatures of twenty years of Jonathan’s so-called "love."

A soft golden-green glow ignited beneath his palms.

Warm. Ancient. Impossibly gentle. It spread from his hands across her damaged flesh like sunrise chasing away eternal night — except this sunrise came with bonus petty revenge.

Roxanne didn’t know what was happening.

All she knew was that the pleasure had suddenly intensified — a warm, tingling wave spreading across her back, her ribs, her shoulders, everywhere his glowing hands touched.

It felt like being wrapped in liquid sunlight of pleasure. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

Like every ache, every scar, every hidden wound she’d carried for decades was being gently lifted away and dissolved into nothing.

She closed her eyes.

Rode him harder.

Chased the building, coiling pleasure higher and higher—

"AAHHH—!"

She came again, her whole body convulsing violently, pussy clamping down on him like a velvet vice determined to win a prize. She never noticed — too lost in ecstasy — that beneath his glowing hands, every bruise was vanishing.

Jonathan noticed.

From his frozen prison on the floor, eyes forced wide open, tears streaming endlessly, he watched the impossible unfold in horrifying, soul-destroying clarity.

The bruises he had given her — his personal artwork, his proof of ownership, the evidence of his power — were disappearing. Fading like cheap ink in the rain. Purple turned to yellow, yellow to pink, pink to flawless, unmarked skin.

The black handprints on her ribs dissolved. The welts on her shoulders smoothed away as if they had never existed.

Every single mark he had left on her body over twenty brutal years of marriage...

Gone.

Erased by the golden-green glow of a boy who could torture and heal with the same effortless hands, like some kind of cosmic middle finger.

Jonathan had known Phei was powerful.

He had known the Legacy families feared him for reasons that went far beyond politics and bloodlines.

But watching this — watching his wife’s body being healed and claimed at the same time while she moaned like a woman reborn in the best kind of sin — Jonathan finally understood the infinite, soul-crushing gap between them.

He wasn’t just outclassed.

He was irrelevant.

A footnote and a minor speed bump that had already been crushed underfoot and forgotten while the universe moved on to better, hotter things.

The boy wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

Jonathan had ceased to exist as anything except a living prop — forced to watch the woman he thought he owned become someone else’s completely, while his own balls were still playing host to a very creative ice sculpture exhibition.

Eira smiled from the shadows, slow and dark and deeply satisfied.

So that was what had been locked away.

The Healing Element — or at least a small portion of the big thing that had been had been sealed behind something in Phei’s soul.

And Roxanne’s desperate, total, unhesitating acceptance had been the perfect, gloriously petty key.

Fascinating.

Eira filed the revelation away for later analysis and turned her attention to more immediate, delicious matters.

They had tortured Jonathan enough for now.

The physical agony, the psychological devastation, the forced front-row seat to his wife’s complete and utter surrender — it had all been brutally effective.

But it still wasn’t enough.

The mission had been clear: put Jonathan in fear that would last two or more days. What they had done so far would leave scars, sure. Trauma like that didn’t fade overnight.

But scars could be ignored. Trauma could be rationalized. Given enough time and distance, Jonathan might convince himself it had all been a fever dream — a temporary humiliation he could eventually move past while sipping expensive whiskey and pretending he still had dignity.

That simply wouldn’t do.