(Third Person POV)
Later that evening in Elvarion Fortress, after a long, heated session of breeding with some of the elf girls, Asher didn't head to his quarters for rest. No—his body may have been exhausted, but his mind was burning to learn a thing or two from Elariel, so he followed her to her room.
He wasn't done for the night. Not until he got what he wanted.
He needed to learn mnemomancy. And when Asher needed something, he didn't stop until the world bent to give it to him.
The Matriarch was reluctant—visibly so. She knew how dangerous the craft was, how easily it could consume even the strongest minds. But persuasion wasn't just about words. With Asher, it was in the way he looked at her, the way his energy demanded her attention, the way his presence lingered like a hot breath on the skin.
Eventually, she gave in.
The door shut behind them with a quiet click.
