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When the world discovered the Dragon King had reached godhood but refused to ascend, it adopted a wide berth stance for the Thunder. The lack of documentation of Alessandro’s strengths and weaknesses was an effective tool for protecting secrets as it should have been with Rowan Dahl.

In their first meeting, she’d been sealed shut. Giving him no information to help reach a verdict of whether she was a friend or foe, even as she spread herself open for him.

He couldn’t be sure if she was giving the information so easily because he’d witnessed her using the power, or if it had to do with something else entirely.

Could it be the trauma from what she’d just done? Guilt begging to be forgiven for an action driven by compassion, an action executed over thousands of years?

Could it be the ambrosia? It certainly was messing with his own inhibitions.

“You know they’re called irreversible for a reason, right?”

A flash of disappointment ran through her eyes before she shook her head. “So even you can’t help me find the answer. In a world of magic, there is almost an answer for everything. Why not this?”

“Ah, you’re one of those. A hopeful young girl that still hasn’t realized how fucked up the world can really be.”

Rowan shrugged. “Better than being a bitter old man who doesn’t know how to try.”

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

He realized too late it was exactly the reaction she’d been seeking for him when a smile curled on her face. “Who said I was talking about you?”

Alessandro bit his tongue before he burst into laughter. How long had it been since he’d been so challenged? Not an ounce of malice coated her scent. She was having fun. “Well argued, I apologize for assuming.”

It made him slightly self-conscious as her teasing smile softened into an expression of pure contentment. It was almost as if his laughter brought it forth. He’d seen that look only once before. When the woman that had adopted him after the death of his parents watched him hold her daughter for the first time. It was still his favorite memory of the woman he called mother.

These were dangerous waters his mind had traveled to. Shifting his focus, he looked over at the building behind them. The slowly rising sun cast a spotlight on it. “How did you end up with the Traveling Cabin?” He had never been inside, only heard stories of the dimensional anomaly.

His magic allowed him to feel its contradiction against time and space.

“Before it was mine, it was my great-aunt’s.”

She stood and Alessandro found his eyes trailing beads of water rolling down her body, past the areolas, down to where her shorts plastered onto her belly. He recalled her softness as he’d bent her over the previous time they’d been so close. He continued his perusal over her curvy thighs, which he had nibbled at and down to her painted toenails. Was that a sunflower?

“Do you want a tour?”

Alessandro took another drink, though he could feel the effects of the booze already blurring his rational thinking if his leisurely perusal of her body was anything to go by. “I would love a tour.”

Chapter 7

The rising sun’s orange hued rays followed them as they walked past the threshold. The amount of plants that hung, sat or floated around the entrance way floored Alessandro. He felt like he was inside of a curated terrarium.

Light poured in through a giant skylight that he hadn’t seen from the outside, bathing evergreen leaves with life. It smelled good, like a mixture of wood and grass and several decadent blooms. Rowan’s smell.

He followed the white-haired woman past the room of floating plants through an open door, where all he saw was a giant bed with mussed sheets, scrolls, books, and clothes strewn without a care on the floor.

“Sometimes it likes to think for me.” Rowan murmured, and she began taking her clothes off. “It’s as maddening as it can be productive.”

Alessandro felt his cock twitch at the sight of the two dimples at the base of her spine. His mouth went dry.

She was a forward little minx. He wondered how much of that was her succubus blood.

“I’m—uh” He stuttered. How much of the nervous energy he was suddenly full of could he blame on the ambrosia? He had never stuttered before in his entire existence.

Rowan turned towards him. Her breasts bounced. Her soft pink nipples stood puckered, hard as rocks.

“Yes?” She asked, and he realized with horror that he was staring at her breasts as if he hadn’t seen thousands of them in his lifetime.

“We shouldn’t.” He whispered.