My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 238 - 238: Elena the Watching Predator
And she was holding the hem of her skirt in both fists, twisting the pleated fabric between her fingers in a gesture so nervous, so young, that it made Phei’s chest do something complicated—half tenderness, half predatory satisfaction at seeing the second Maxton princess reduced to a trembling girl waiting for his verdict.
This wasn’t the Delilah who’d straddled him at the fire pit, bold and demanding.
This wasn’t the Delilah who’d dragged him from the dinner table and begged him to take her against her bedroom wall—voice breaking on every filthy plea.
This was the girl behind the princess mask.
Scared.
Shy.
Desperate to belong to him but terrified of rejection—terror that came from loving someone who could destroy you and knowing you’d thank him for it.
She stood there, frozen, eyes darting between Phei and Sierra and Maddie—the girlfriend-not-girlfriends she’d challenged in the group chat, the women whose bed she’d been invited to share—and her lower lip trembled.
The courtyard was watching.
Everyone was watching.
And Delilah looked like she might bolt at any second, might flee back around the corner and pretend this had never happened, might spend another year loving him in silence because the alternative was too frightening to face—too raw, too real, too likely to end with her heart in pieces.
Phei made the decision for her.
“Delilah.”
His voice carried across the distance—not loud, but commanding, the kind of voice that made people listen whether they wanted to or not—made her knees weak and standards negotiable.
She flinched. Looked at him. Those big golden eyes swimming with uncertainty.
He smiled.
Soft. Warm. The smile he saved for the moments that mattered—the one that said “come here, little one, before you hurt yourself trying to run.”
“Come here, babe.”
Delilah’s face transformed.
The fear melted. The uncertainty evaporated. Something bright and fierce and desperately hopeful bloomed in its place, spreading across her features like sunrise breaking through clouds—or like a dam finally giving way to the flood it had been holding back for years.
She moved.
Didn’t walk. Not approached.
Ran.
Her skirt flared around her thighs as she sprinted the distance between them, heels clicking frantically on the cobblestones, decorum abandoned completely in her rush to reach him—like a good girl who’d finally been given permission to be bad.
She hit his chest with enough force to make him take a step back—which, given his new physique, was actually impressive—and her arms wrapped around his torso in a grip that suggested she was never, ever letting go.
“Phei,” she breathed into his chest, voice muffled against his blazer, whole body trembling with relief and joy and something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Phei, Phei, Phei—”
His arms came around her.
Held her.
Let her shake apart against him while the entire student body of Ashford Elite Academy watched in stunned, uncomprehending silence—probably wondering if this was performance art or if the world had finally ended and no one had bothered to send the memo.
Then Sierra moved.
Stepped around to Delilah’s side, and placed a hand on the other girl’s shoulder. Her expression was… surprisingly gentle. The Hell Bitch Queen in temporary retirement—probably because even ice queens recognized when someone was already broken enough.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Welcome to the family, princess.”
Delilah’s head came up, eyes wet, mascara threatening to run—the kind of run that would cost a small fortune to fix.
“You… you meant it? What you said in the chat? About sharing?”
“Every word.” Sierra’s smile sharpened, but not cruelly. Knowingly. “Though I hope you know what you’re signing up for. He’s demanding.”
“I know.” Delilah’s voice was thick with emotion. “I know, I don’t care, I just want—”
Maddie appeared on her other side, still leaning slightly for support but managing to wrap an arm around Delilah’s waist nonetheless.
“What she’s trying to say,” Maddie drawled, “is that you’re one of us now. For better or worse. Mostly better.” A wicked grin. “Though I should warn you—the ‘worse’ is really, really good.”
Delilah laughed—a wet, surprised sound—and suddenly all three of them were hugging, a tangle of arms and designer perfume and whispered words that the watching crowd couldn’t quite catch.
Phei stood at the center of it.
His women.
Three now, with more to come—because dragons never stopped at one treasure when the world was full of glittering beauties begging to be claimed and fools who couldn’t.
Leaving all the goodies to the godly young dragon!
They approached the main building as a unit.
The public declaration of a sort: that even his cousin was his too—wrapped around him like a ribbon on a gift no one else would ever be allowed to unwrap.
“Three of them. He’s got THREE now.”
“Delilah really ran to him in front of everyone—”
“I would too. I would sprint. I would hurdle obstacles.”
“This man is collecting Paradise princesses like Pokémon.”
“And we’re all just standing here watching him do it.”
Four of them now, moving in formation. Phei at the center, a dark-haired god in a schoolboy’s costume that had clearly given up trying to contain him. Sierra on his left, ice queen and enforcer, her grip on his arm possessive and proud—nails digging in just enough to remind everyone whose territory this was.
Maddie on his right, golden princess with ruined legs and a satisfied smile that said “yes, he fucked me until I saw stars, and no, you can’t have him.”
And Delilah tucked against his chest, one arm wrapped around his waist, beaming with the incandescent joy of a girl whose impossible dream had just come true—the kind of joy that made onlookers feel both envious and slightly afraid.
The glass doors of Ashford Elite Academy’s front building loomed before them—ten stories of chrome and crystal, sunlight fragmenting through the facade like the building itself was trying to blind anyone who approached—or perhaps just trying to look away from the walking sin heading straight for it.
Students scrambled out of their way.
Teachers paused mid-stride to stare—one poor history professor actually dropped his briefcase, papers scattering like confetti at a very awkward parade.
The whispers had become a roar now, a tsunami of gossip and speculation and raw, unfiltered want crashing against the walls of academic propriety—walls that were looking increasingly flimsy.
Phei didn’t care.
He walked his women into the building like he owned it.
Because he was starting to believe he did.
Ten stories above, in the executive observation lounge that technically belonged to the Headmaster but had been commandeered by someone far more dangerous, Elena Ashford stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows and watched.
The morning light caught her platinum blonde hair and turned it to spun silver—the kind of silver that belonged on a blade, not a halo.
Her uniform was technically regulation but worn in a way that made it look like haute couture—blazer tailored to within an inch of its life, skirt hemmed exactly one inch shorter than allowed, blouse unbuttoned just enough to hint at the devastating architecture beneath—architecture that had ruined more men than bad investments.
She looked like a queen surveying her domain.
She looked like a predator watching prey approach the trap—and enjoying the anticipation almost as much as the kill.
Her ice-blue eyes tracked Phei’s progress across the courtyard—watching him move, watching him command, watching the way three beautiful women draped themselves over him like he was the only solid ground in a world of quicksand.1
She’d watched Delilah run to him.
Watched the group embrace.
Watched them walk toward the building in their little power formation, broadcasting their claim on him to anyone with eyes—a claim that was cute, really, in the way a child’s finger painting of a lion was cute.
A smile curved her perfect lips.
Not warm. Not kind.
Playful.
Devilish.
A shark who’d finally spotted something worth hunting—and was already tasting blood in the water.
“How sweet,” she murmured, her voice a velvet purr that fogged the glass before her. “They think they’ve won.”
She lifted one manicured hand and traced a lazy pattern on the window, following Phei’s silhouette as it disappeared through the doors ten floors below.
“Enjoy your little harem while you can, darling.”
Her smile widened.
Sharp.
Hungry.
“Tonight,” Elena Ashford whispered to the empty room, to the city sprawling beneath her, to the boy who had no idea what was coming for him, “you become mine.”
Poor Phei.
He thought he was building an empire.
He had no idea the real empress was already sharpening her claws.
And she played for keeps.
Yes, I know she has the same hair and eye color features as Calistra😏
