I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Lyanna attacked from three different angles in rapid succession. She feinted left, struck right, and then came up from below.

He blocked each strike with his bare hands, his movements minimal and precise. “Excellent! You learn fast. But watch your footing on that last approach—you were slightly off-balance.”

As he spoke, he reached out and tapped Lyanna’s shoulder mid-strike—a gentle touch, but placed perfectly to disrupt her momentum. She stumbled slightly, eyes widening at how easily he’d done it.

Cassandra’s next attack was different. The ice that formed was no longer pretty shards—it was jagged, brutal spikes designed to impale. They came faster and with real intent to kill.

Julian waved his hand and a wave of force shattered them, but he was smiling. “Perfect! That’s what I wanted to see. No hesitation, no holding back.”

The three women regrouped, breathing slightly harder now, their competitive spirits fully engaged.

“You’re good,” Seraphine admitted, and then her smile turned wicked. “But you’re also distracted.”

“Am I?” Julian raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” Seraphine purred, and suddenly her entire demeanor shifted. The battle-ready warrior melted away, replaced by something far more dangerous.

She began to circle him slowly, her hips swaying with each step in a hypnotic rhythm. Her hands moved to her hair, pulling it free from its tie, letting the blonde waves cascade down her back. The movement lifted her arms, causing her chest to thrust forward, the crimson gown she still wore from breakfast clinging to every curve.

“You’re so focused on teaching us,” she said, her voice dropping to a sultry purr as she moved closer, “that you haven’t noticed something important.”

Her fingers trailed along her own collarbone, drawing Julian’s eyes to the elegant line of her throat, the soft swell of her breasts visible above the low neckline of her dress. She bit her lower lip, a gesture that was both innocent and incredibly sensual.

Julian’s eyes followed the movement. “Seraphine,” he said, his voice carrying a warning note, though amusement danced in his eyes. “Are you trying to seduce your way out of this sparring session?”

“Is it working?” she asked, stepping closer. She raised one leg, placing her foot on a nearby rock, and the slit in her gown fell open to reveal the entire length of her toned thigh. She leaned forward slightly as if adjusting her stance, giving him a perfect view down her neckline.

“That’s playing dirty, sister,” Lyanna observed, but she too was watching with interest.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Seraphine replied. Her hands slid down her own body—over her breasts, down her narrow waist, across her wide hips—as if adjusting her clothing. “And Father did say not to hold back.”

“I meant your combat abilities,” Julian clarified, though his voice had roughened slightly and his eyes had definitely tracked the path of her hands.

“You weren’t specific,” Cassandra pointed out. She had been watching Seraphine’s technique with interest, and now she too shifted her approach.

She moved gracefully, her hair catching the light as she tilted her head, exposing the elegant column of her neck. Her hands moved to the strap at her shoulder—the one holding her gown in place—and she slowly, teasingly unfastened it.

The fabric didn’t fall, but it loosened noticeably, revealing more of the pale skin of her chest. “We are your daughters,” she said softly, her voice taking on a breathy quality. “We learned from the best—our mothers.”

She took a step toward Julian, her hips rolling with each movement. One hand trailed up her side, fingers barely grazing her own curves through the thin fabric. Her other hand reached out toward him, not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel the heat of her skin.

Lyanna watched her sisters with mischievous smile. “Oh, I see how it is,” she said, and her demeanor also changed.

She sheathed her sword with a fluid motion and began unlacing the front of her leather armor. The ties came loose one by one, each release revealing more skin—the upper swell of her breasts, the valley between them, the toned plane of her stomach. She didn’t remove the armor entirely, but left it hanging open, a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath.

“Mother always said that a warrior should use every weapon at her disposal,” Lyanna said, moving closer to Julian. Her movements were less fluid than her sisters’, more direct and aggressive, but no less effective.

She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back, causing her partially opened armor to gape wider.

All three women were now circling Julian like predators, each one displaying herself in ways designed to distract, to completely derail his concentration.

Seraphine’s fingers traced patterns in the air as if preparing a spell, but the gestures were slow, sensual. Each gesture caused her body to shift, drawing attention to her figure than to what she was about to do.

Cassandra turned slowly, giving Julian a view of her figure from every angle. The loosened gown clung to her curves, the fabric thin enough to show the outline of her body. She looked back over her shoulder at him, her expression a perfect blend of innocence and seduction.

Lyanna stepped closer, near enough that Julian could smell her scent—something wild and fresh, mixed with the faint tang of sweat from their sparring. Her hand reached out and, with shocking boldness, touched his chest.

“Your heart is beating faster, Father,” she observed with a wicked smile. “Are we getting to you?”

Julian caught her wrist, but gently. “You’re all terrible,” he said, but his voice was rough with amusement and something warmer. “Using your feminine wiles against your own father.”

“You said not to hold back,” Seraphine reminded him, now close enough that her breath ghosted across his neck as she spoke. She didn’t touch him, but her body was positioned so close he could feel her heat, could see the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, could catch the sweet scent of her skin.