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<22> Metal notes
publish date:
2026-09-17 17:39:15
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His Stripper Mate <27> Tuesday’s
“He’s calling,” Zosia said, in the tone of a woman who had just located the pressure point she’d been aiming for all night. “Sasha. It’s Tuesday.”“I know what day it is.”“Tuesday is bread night.”“I know what Tuesday, Zo.”“Tuesday is the night you go home and the human bakes you things and you come back the next morning and describe the baked goods to me in unnecessary detail while I pretend not to be jealous of a loaf of sourdough.” She uncurled from her chair and stood up, and for a second, just a second, I saw it—the steel in her spine, the ghost of the strong girl she is, flickering under the serum like a pilot light. “It’s Thursday, Sasha. Go home.”“Not a chance.”“Yes, actually, a chance.”“Zosia, someone put a bomb under a table last two nights. Cynthia Thorne is after you even while you were at the sewers. There are people in this city who want to hurt you, and I am not leaving you alone in a hospital run by the father of your nemesis just so I can go eat carbs with my boy
His Stripper Mate <26> The human in a wolf den
Sasha’s POVIf you had asked me twelve hours ago what my ideal Tuesday looked like, I would have told you: a quiet shift at the Gilded Cage stitching up a few belligerent Betas, a glass of cheap pinot noir at three a.m., and absolutely zero encounters with C-4 explosives, billionaire stalkers, or secret-agent neighbors who rode rugged mountain bikes through a literal sewer.I’m sorry if you find me too loud or talkative.Sarcasm is my love language. It’s also my coping mechanism, my self-defense system, and the only thing standing between me and a full-blown existential crisis. I’ve been an underground medic in the Hollows for six years. I’ve stitched gunshot wounds in back alleys. I’ve delivered babies in locked bathrooms. I’ve watched wolves die from silver poisoning while their packs argued about who was going to pay for the burial.I’ve seen the worst the supernatural world has to offer. And I have responded to all of it with a scalpel in one hand and a joke on my lips.But nothin
His Stripper Mate <25> She’s throwing a tantrum
Cynthia smiled, a sharp, artificial curve of her lips. “Exactly. She wants to be the one who ‘broke’ a Vane. She wants to feel important for the first time in her miserable life.”I stood up, my legs shaky but my mind finally finding a focus. The rejection sickness was a symptom of Zosia’s absence, but I could fix that. I didn't need the bond to own her. I had something much more effective than fate.I had the math.I walked to my desk and opened my laptop. The blue light felt like needles in my eyes, but I pushed through. I opened the Vane Medical portal—the one my father Nikolai had given me access to back when he still pretended he loved me. I found the account for Kane, Nyx (Patient ID: 8829-X).“What are you doing?” Cynthia asked, leaning over my shoulder, the scent of her perfume making my stomach churn.“I’m reminding Zosia why she needs me,” I muttered, my fingers dancing over the keys. I looked at the billing history. For eight months, I had been the one transferring the fu
His Stripper Mate <24> Rejection sickness
Damien’s POVThe glass of the floor-to-ceiling window was cold against my forehead, but it wasn’t cold enough to stop the searing, melodic throb behind my eyes. My penthouse overlooked the entire glittering expanse of the pack district, a monument to the Vane name and the wealth I had spent my life pretending I earned. Usually, the sight of the city bowing at my feet made me feel like a god. Tonight, it just looked like a collection of sharp swords waiting to cut me.I groaned, my hand trembling as I reached for the bottle of vintage scotch on the marble sideboard. My skin felt tight, sallow, and itchy—like I was wearing a suit that was three sizes too small. Rejection sickness. It was supposed to be a myth. A campfire story told to young Alphas to keep them from being too cruel to their Omegas. “Don't break the bond, little wolf, or the moon goddess will turn her back on you.” I’d laughed at those stories. I was a Vane. I was a High Pack Alpha, Bluemoon to be precise. I was the on
His Stripper Mate <23> Pinkish skin
The bike ride through the service tunnels felt like being trapped inside the throat of a mechanical beast. Nick’s back was a broad, unyielding wall of rock in front of me; as we hit every dip and slick patch of moss, I found myself clutching his waist tighter, my fingers digging into the rugged, waterproof fabric of his jacket and the hard lines of his hard planed abs. My wolf, usually a snarling, caged thing, had gone eerily quiet, tails wagging. It wasn't the silence of defeat though, more like a crow that have finally found its raven. The scent of him still had a frequency that vibrated in my very marrow. “Hold on! Sharp… uh… sharp incline!” Nick shouted over his shoulder. His voice went up an octave, returning to that usual nervous pitch, but his legs didn’t falter. He pedaled with a rhythmic, explosive power that ate up the miles of subterranean filth. Behind us, the shouts of Cynthia’s hit squad faded into the distance, swallowed by the roar of the drainage pipes and the
His Stripper Mate <22> Metal notes
“I… well, I saw your note!” Nick said, offering a sheepish, lopsided smile. He reached up and adjusted his glasses, but his hand was shaking. “And then I saw those… those very large men in the hallway. They looked… quite unfriendly. I thought maybe you’d headed for the service routes. My consultant firm does mapping for the city’s infrastructure, you see. I have the schematics on my… uh… tablet.” He patted a heavy bag strapped to the bike’s rack. “You followed me?” I asked, a strange, warm flutter starting in my stomach despite the terror of the night. “I couldn't just let you walk through these tunnels alone, Zosia,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, structural register that made my wolf go still. “It’s… it’s not statistically safe.” Sasha stepped out behind me, her surgical loupes pushed up, her eyes raking over Nick and his rugged bike. “Statistics? Honey, you’re in a sewer on a two-thousand-dollar mountain bike,” Sasha snorted. “You’re either the bravest man i
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