Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1031: My Mature Goddesses

Cazzie would’ve been proud. The blue-haired chaos gremlin Isabella had told about who had spent weeks dragging Maya out of her shell had built the foundation — and now my won were building on it all at once.

Genevieve watched the whole thing from her seat with the satisfied expression of a woman who had just introduced her favorite person to her new family and watched the adoption happen in real ti.

Well, Maya was part of the family before her, but who cares about details.

After that we drove to ridian Agency. The van self-drove through the LA night, drawing far less attention in the dark than it would have in daylight — just a long silver shape moving through traffic like a quiet secret on wheels.

I told them to wait and stepped out.

The night air hit after the climate-controlled perfection of the van. I walked through the entrance and up to the office where I knew they’d be, because Catherine and Dominique were always where the work was — even at this hour, even when the plan was departure and the destination was Paris and every other woman in my life was sitting in a futuristic bus outside waiting for them to stop being workaholics for five consecutive minutes.

I pushed through the office door and found them.

And — fuck.

Catherine was leaning against the desk with her arms crossed and her weight on one hip in a pose that belonged on a billboard selling sothing illegal.

She’d cut her hair.

Short now — a tousled, choppy bob that fell just past her jaw, swept to one side, the kind of cut that stripped away everything decorative and left nothing but bone structure and pure attitude. It changed her entire face — sharpened the cheekbones, exposed the full elegant line of her neck, made her dark lips look fuller and her eyes look more dangerous.

She wore a black-and-white ensemble that was half blazer, half corset — a strapless black top with white geotric detailing across the bust, one arm sleeved in a long black opera glove while the other was bare, a white blazer hanging off one shoulder like it had tried to stay on and her body had rejected it.

A black choker circled her throat. The skirt was split — black on one side, white on the other — connected by silver buckle hardware running down the hip, hemd high enough to show the garter straps attaching to sheer black stockings that ran down legs I’d morized and were sohow even better than I rembered.

She looked like a weapon soone had dressed up for a gallery opening.

But it wasn’t really the outfit. It was her.

Catherine Reynolds was in her fifties. I knew that. Had known it since the day we t — and she’d been stunning then like she was in her forties. Defying her age with genetics, discipline, and the specific maintenance that won with her resources could afford.

This was different.

Her skin and body had changed just like all my other won. I could see it from across the room — the texture, the luminosity, the way light didn’t just hit her face but settled into it like it belonged there.

The fine lines that had lived at the corners of her eyes were gone.

The faint creasing along her neck that had once betrayed age even when the face didn’t — gone.

Her skin was smooth in a way that wasn’t surgical, wasn’t chemical, wasn’t anything a dermatologist could produce with a needle or a laser. It was renewed. Regenerated from the cellular level outward.

She looked thirty-two. Maybe thirty. A woman who should have been aging gracefully was instead aging in reverse, and the trajectory wasn’t slowing down.

The Divine Seed.

My seed.

Doing exactly what it always did to every woman who carried it inside her long enough — rewriting her biological clock, restructuring collagen at the molecular level, flooding her system with whatever the fuck my supernatural DNA decided to produce when it bonded with a woman’s body.

My won had been transforming.

Mom looked ten years younger. Magaret’s small wrinkles had dissolved like they’d never existed. Sofia’s skin had gone from good to straight-up otherworldly and because even more beautiful like an immortal lady who stopped aging in her teen age... sa with all my other young lovers.

But I’d been living with those changes every single day — watching them happen in tiny, incrental milliters — so gradual my eyes had adjusted and the miracle had faded into background noise.

I hadn’t seen Catherine in over a week or so.

And a week of the Divine Seed working unchecked on a woman I wasn’t around to normalize ant the changes slamd into all at once. Like stepping out of a dark room straight into blinding sunlight.

And Dominique — fuck .

Dominique stood by the window in a white satin dress that clung to her body like it had been poured on and never bothered to dry.

Halter neck.

Plunging neckline that opened in a deep V, held together by thin straps crisscrossing between her breasts with a small gold pendant resting right at the center of the X where the fabric kissed skin.

The satin caught every trace of light in the room and threw it back along every curve — the full, heavy swell of her breasts pressing insistently against the material, the brutal cinch of her waist, the wide, fertile flare of her hips where the dress hugged tight before splitting at the thigh in a slit that ran all the way to the floor.

A gold choker circled her throat. Gold hoops in her ears. A thick braid fell over one shoulder, tied at the end with sothing small and red.

Her skin glowed against the white like she’d been lit from inside and the dress was only there to give the light sothing to cling to.

She looked like she’d walked straight out of a dream I hadn’t had yet — but would now have every single night for the rest of my life.

Dominique carried the sa impossible glow. The sa reversal of everything biology was supposed to enforce. She was younger than Catherine, but the Seed didn’t give a fuck about starting points — it just made them goddesses.

Her skin had gone from beautiful to absurd, the kind of smooth that made you suspect digital retouching except she was standing right there in physical space and the light wasn’t lying.

The pores on her cheeks had vanished. The skin on her neck, her chest, the bare stretch of shoulder left exposed by the halter — all of it had the soft, luminous quality of sothing newborn. Fresh. Untouched by the world.

My seed has been doing wonders apart from making my won and my mom pregnat.