Mummy Evolution-Chapter 50: Grandmother’s affection

In the ancient past, Central Continent.

Sett knew he was playing with fire. Sweet, wine-scented, dangerously soft fire.

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But did that ever stop him?

Not a chance.

The small desert camp was quiet that night, the faint rustling of dry brush and the occasional snort of grazing camels the only sounds beyond the gentle flapping of tents in the warm breeze.

The sand was still warm beneath his bare feet, and the moonlight cast long shadows as he slipped out of his tent, the thin fabric of his boxers clinging lightly to his skin.

He glanced toward his grandmother’s tent, its silhouette flickering faintly from the glow within, and made his way across the short distance.

Her tent flap wasn’t tied shut.

Sett pushed it aside and stepped in.

The air smelled of spiced wine and faint traces of lotus oil, the scent rich and heady in the cramped space. The tent was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of an oil lamp perched on a low wooden crate.

And there she was—Ismera Ramses, draped in silk, reclining lazily on a pile of cushions with a half-full goblet in one hand, the other idly tracing patterns on the woven mat beneath her.

Her golden eyes flicked up.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she took in the sight before her.

Sett. In nothing but thin boxers.

Standing there with a confidence that teetered between foolishness and sheer audacity.

She arched a brow. "Well. This is new."

Sett grinned, stepping closer, completely unashamed. "It was hot in my tent."

"Oh?" She took a slow sip of her wine, unfazed. "And the solution was to barge into mine in your underthings?"

Sett crawled onto the edge of her mat, making himself comfortable among the cushions. "Who else’s tent would I enter?"

"Someone who wouldn’t kick you out for being a brat?"

He pouted, resting his chin on her thigh like an overgrown cat. "But you won’t."

A sigh. A long, suffering sigh. And then—her fingers threaded into his hair, absently scratching his scalp.

Sett closed his eyes in satisfaction.

"Truly, you’re a spoiled little thing."

"I am your spoiled little thing. Nobody else spoils me."

Ismera shook her head, muttering something about how this boy had absolutely no shame. But her hand never left his hair, and her body never shifted away.

Sett grinned.

Victory. Again.

Sett felt the warmth of her fingers gliding through his hair, slow and steady, like she was petting some wild creature that had wandered into her tent. He wasn’t going to complain—not when it felt this good.

He nuzzled against her thigh, letting out a satisfied hum. "See? This is much better than me being in my own tent."

"Brat," Ismera muttered, but her fingers never stopped.

She was giving him a head massage.

Sett’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling himself closer, half-draping his body over hers.

She stiffened for a second—just a second—before relaxing, sighing into her wine. "And now you’re clinging to me like a limpet."

He grinned against her skin, pressing his cheek against her stomach. "I’m making sure you don’t throw me out."

She snorted. "If I wanted to throw you out, you’d already be rolling across the sand."

He didn’t doubt that. But she hadn’t.

Instead, she let him stay, her free hand now resting lightly on his back.

Sett took that as a sign to push further.

His grip tightened as he shifted, pressing himself closer. His lips found her hip first—a chaste kiss, barely more than a brush of warmth against her skin through the silk.

She didn’t stop him.

Emboldened, he moved up, trailing kisses along the fabric of her nightgown, his lips ghosting over her stomach, then higher—along the edge of her ribs.

Still, no protest.

If anything, she seemed amused, watching him through half-lidded golden eyes, her fingers still lazily playing with his hair.

He reached her collarbone, pressing a lingering kiss there, then another at the base of her throat.

"Mm." She finally made a sound—one that Sett couldn’t quite place. Amusement? Exasperation? Something else?

She shifted slightly, her free hand tilting his chin up until their eyes met.

"Sett."

His breath hitched.

She smirked. "You’re getting bold."

He grinned, unrepentant. "And you’re letting me."

She chuckled, low and throaty, shaking her head. "You really are impossible."

But she didn’t pull away.

And so, Sett kept going.

"Grandma," he called.

"Hm?"

"Do you think I will be a good ruler?"

"Not if you sneak into beds like this. But yes, I believe you can become a brilliant ruler for the people."

Sett took the chance that her lips were parted to make his tongue invade her mouth. She ruffled her hand through his hair, pressing his head forward.

They parted, a bridge of saliva connecting them.

Sett, bolder now, moved his hand towards her waistband, entering territories he had never dared to before.

"Not that," she said in passing.

Sett didn’t invade her waistband, letting her move at her own pace. But he still inserted one of his hand into her soft back pocket, to her chagrin. And the other hand simply rested over her even softer chest, gently, but surely fondling them.

She looked at him curiously.

He truly was bold tonight—had he been wanting to do this all day when he had been with her?

It was not as if Ismera didn’t notice his wandering eyes.

Am I indulging him a bit too much?

"I can’t become a ruler for the people," he said into her neck. "I don’t care for the people I don’t even know. That is who I am. Does that make me not fit for ruling?"

"You are a perfect fit. Don’t worry about such things. Sleep. We have a Tomb to ride tomorrow."

Sett smiled at her, kissing her cheeks. "If I knew you were this straightforward, I wouldn’t have bothered making the other tent."

She smelled so good, felt so good, looked so good. Sett genuinely wanted to take a bite out of her face. Sleeping like this was much, much more to his liking than spending lonely nights in a tent alone.

While saying that, he rested his face inbetween her chest, wanting to rest more confortably.

Sett wanted to take more advantage of this chance, but he had to admit that the sense of safety was making him sleepy.

Even as he resisted the urge, he slowly felt himself drift off.

Ismera kept ruffling his hair.

It felt so good.

Just before he fell asleep, he said, "I think my people are my family alone, grandma. I don’t care if I have to kill everyone else to keep you guys safe. They don’t matter."

His eyes slowly closed.

Ismera sighed, feeling his hand covertly moving towards her waistband again. But this time, she didn’t reject it or flick it away, she just decided to let it do what it wanted to do.

Ismera was willing to be a bit indulgent today.

He just wanted to be closer to her, impress her, after all.

Have your fun when you can.

Soon, his responsibilities will make that difficult for him.

I just hope you don’t forget the current you and become someone else when the world starts pushing you around.

Yet, soon enough, she couldn’t think of anything like that; Oh, the boy was skilled with his hand.

Hm…