My Taboo Harem! Chapter 473: Maya’s Secret?: Goddess or Not?

"She can’t!" Eira hissed, voice pitching into sothing dangerously close to a shriek. Her wings tried to spasm—failed.

The void-ice holding them simply tightened, singing with strain. Tiny fists balled at her sides, knuckles frosting over.

"A Lesser God would strain to see ! A Greater God would have to focus! This—this rambling, silver-haired disaster—this girl who can’t finish a sentence without three side quests and a footnote—she doesn’t even have a divine signature! Not a flicker! Not a whisper of power! She’s baseline! Human! Mundane! She’s—"

Maya’s gaze tracked her.

Tracked the frantic, aborted flutter of wings that couldn’t quite move.

Tracked the black diamond dust still hanging, motionless, in defiance of gravity.

Tracked Eira’s panicked pacing through the air, back and forth like a trapped moth beating against glass.

Eira spun—mid-air, frantic—jabbed one crystalline finger straight at the girl in the water.

"Is she doing this on purpose?!" The words cracked like thin ice. "Is this a ga? Is she mocking ? Because this isn’t funny, this is—this is ontologically wrong, this is—"

Maya chuckled.

Not the bright, scattershot giggle that spilled out when she was telling Phei why she’d once tried to teach a goldfish algebra. This was lower. Slower.

The sound rolled from sowhere deep in her chest—sowhere that had never seen daylight, never tripped over its own words, never apologized for taking up space.

"Stop spying on ," Maya said.

Voice gentle.

Voice amused.

Voice speaking to empty air the way one speaks to a guest who has overstayed their welco and doesn’t yet realize they’ve been dismissed.

"I’ll be fine." She tilted her head back against the stone rim, silver hair fanning wider across the steaming surface like spilled quicksilver. "Focus on his other won tonight. They need your attention more than I do."

Eira’s eyes blew wide—pupils dilating to black voids rimd in frost.

Wider than when the Void-Ice had birthed her screaming from nothingness.

Her crystalline jaw dropped. A faint crackle sounded from the hinges—void-ice fracturing under impossible pressure.

"She can see ," Eira whispered, the words tumbling out like broken glass. "She can actually—she—but—how? There’s nothing in her! No lineage! No resonance! No ambient divinity leaking from her pores! She’s—she’s a girl who talks to plants and forgets where she parked her own shadow and she can see —"

Maya’s gaze drifted down from the ceiling.

Settled—again—on the precise point where Eira hovered, paralyzed.

And the warmth in those brown eyes changed.

Not extinguished.

Shifted.

The way sunlight changes when a blade of cloud slices across it: sa light, colder edge. Sa eyes, but now sothing older peered through.

Sothing that had always been there—patient, coiled, amused—behind the tangents, behind the chaos, behind the girl who collected stray umbrellas and spoke in parentheses.

Sothing that regarded Eira the way an empress regards a sparrow that has flown into the throne room and begun chirping demands.

Not wrathful.

Not threatened.

rely... cognizant.

Of the trespass.

Of the absurdity of scale.

Of the fact that this small, invisible thing had been seen—stripped bare of every layer of concealnt—and the seeing had required exactly zero effort from the woman lounging naked in mineral-scented water.

Maya chuckled again.

Lower.

Softer.

The sound barely rippled the bath’s surface.

"Cute," she murmured.

The single word landed like a velvet hamr—soft syllables carrying a gravitational weight that made Eira’s void-ice sing at a frequency she had never heard before: high, keening, almost musical terror.

Maya held the gaze one heartbeat longer—calm, ancient, faintly entertained—then let her eyelids drift shut.

She sank another inch into the heat.

Silver hair spreading wider.

Steam curling around the elegant line of her throat.

The faintest curve remained on her lips—not the rambling girl’s goofy, sunlit grin.

Sothing else.

Sothing that had watched empires rise and fall from behind Maya’s eyes.

Sothing that was, for tonight, content simply to watch.

And wait.

Eira remained frozen—wings locked, suspended, body rigid—until the last echo of that single word faded into the steam.

Cute?

I’ve never felt smaller.

She exhaled through parted lips—a soft, breathy sound swallowed by the thick steam that already curled around her like a lover’s sigh and stopped paying attention to Eira and just fully subrged herself.

Her long calves, lean muscle smoothed under the surface, skin glowing as though lit from within. Droplets beaded along the elegant curve of her shin, trembling for a heartbeat before sliding back into the warmth like reluctant lovers giving up the fight.

Her thighs parted naturally as she lowered further—strong, graceful lines opening just enough that the water slipped between them, caressing the ultra-sensitive inner skin with slow, liquid heat.

The faint silvery trail of hair at the apex of her sex caught the first touch of water and darkened instantly, clinging wetly to the soft, plump mound beneath.

She did not touch herself.

The bath did it for her—warm currents lapping gently against her outer lips, coaxing them to soften, to swell, to part ever so slightly like petals waking under morning sun.

Her hips subrged completely.

The water rose over the gentle flare, cradling the perfect round of her ass as it settled against the smooth stone bottom with a faint, wet kiss. A deep, involuntary sigh escaped her—the sound of pure surrender to sensation rather than any conscious act.

Her lower back arched just a fraction as the heat blood across her tailbone, up the elegant dip of her spine, loosening every hidden knot she hadn’t admitted she carried.

Her ass cheeks flexed once—soft, plush globes parting slightly under the buoyant pressure—allowing warm water to slip into the shadowed cleft, gentle, insistent laps that made it flutter open for one helpless second.

Stomach smoothed flat under the surface now, navel winking briefly before disappearing beneath blue-green silk.

Ribs lifted with each slow, asured breath, the motion sending small waves that broke against the tender undersides of her breasts.

And then—slowly, inevitably—those breasts.

dium, high, perfectly ford—pale-rose nipples already drawn tight from the shift in temperature, standing proud like they had been waiting for this exact caress.

The water climbed them in a languid tide: first brushing the soft undercurve, lifting them gently so they floated, weightless, then sliding over the sensitive peaks in a warm, wet glide that made them tighten further—hard little buds reddening, aching, begging without words.

A single droplet hung from one nipple for a trembling heartbeat—perfect, glistening—before it fell back into the bath with the softest plink, sending tiny ripples outward that kissed her again.

She leaned back.

Head resting against the curved stone lip, throat exposed in a long, vulnerable line—pulse visible beneath the skin, beating faster now.

Silver hair fanned outward across the surface like molten moonlight, strands drifting lazily, clinging wetly to the tops of her shoulders, the elegant column of her neck, the delicate hollow at the base of her throat.

Steam curled around her jaw, her high cheekbones, veiling her just enough to make every glimpse feel stolen, forbidden.

Her eyes were half-lidded now—dark lashes fanned against flushed skin, pupils blown wide with quiet heat.

Lips parted on shallow, asured breaths—each exhale a soft, needy sound that echoed faintly off the tiled walls.

The faintest flush had risen along her collarbones, her throat, the soft swell above her heart—evidence of blood rushing beneath the surface, answering the relentless, tender attention of the bath.

She was not performing.

She was simply existing—naked, sovereign, utterly at ease in her own skin—and the bath worshipped her for it.

Every slow rise and fall of her chest sent ripples outward that lapped at her nipples again and again, kissing the stiff peaks in warm, wet caresses that made them throb visibly.

Every subtle shift of her hips made the water kiss her deeper—sliding between her parted thighs, teasing the swollen outer lips, brushing the sensitive hood of her clit until it peeked free, fat and flushed, pulsing gently with each heartbeat.

Warm currents slipped inside her just enough to make her entrance flutter open, a faint, involuntary clench that released another slow bead of slick into the water—visible, obscene, dissolving in slow spirals.

All though, Eira watched as she was ignored... and she realized what really Maya!