When My Mate Chose Another, the Lycan King Chose Me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

Natasha’s POVI stood before the door, robe wrapped tightly around me, my palms damp as though the fabric itself could sense my nervousness. Every step I had taken down the hallway had been heavy, dragging my fear and my hope together in a messy knot inside my chest. My head was held high because I forced it to be, because I wouldn’t allow myself to look defeated before even trying. But my stomach was churning so violently that I thought at any moment I might throw up right there in front of the King’s chamber.I raised my hand and pushed the door open slowly, quietly, as if the wood itself might betray me. The room was dimly lit. The air felt thick, heavy, scented faintly with pine and something darker, muskier—his scent, clinging everywhere like it had claimed the space long before me. My breath caught, and before my mind could even find balance, my eyes found him.The King.He wasn’t clothed the way I had feared or hoped. No, he was in just his pants, the strength of his body revea

Natasha’s POVThe pile of dresses was starting to look like a mountain beside me, yet he still sat there, calm as stone, his eyes trailing after me with that same unreadable intensity that made my skin prickle. It wasn’t the look of someone waiting for a show. No—it was sharper than that, heavier, like he was trying to peel away every layer of me with his gaze alone.I had tried on nearly fifteen outfits—fifteen—and each time I stepped out of the dressing corner, smoothing down the fabric, waiting, hoping for even the smallest flicker of change in his expression, I got the same thing. That steady gaze. That same single word.“Next.”The fact that he loved them all yet still called for next got to be the most annoying part.At first, it had been amusing. I’d even rolled my eyes at him once, muttering something under my breath that I was sure he caught, because the corner of his mouth had twitched almost into a smile. Then, after the sixth or seventh dress, frustration had kicked in. No

Natasha’s POVLucien had been acting strangely ever since we left the room upstairs. It wasn’t just the clipped way he spoke to me when the maid knocked, or the cold distance in his voice after I asked him to help zip my dress. It was in the way his eyes never quite met mine anymore, as though if he looked too long, something he didn’t want me to see would spill out. I felt it when he stormed into the bathroom, when I heard the sound against the wall and his voice claiming it was nothing. I still felt it now, hours or maybe only minutes later, as we descended the stairs to meet his parents.By the time I reached the bottom, smoothing down my dress and gathering every ounce of composure left in me, he was already there. Standing tall. Kingly. Talking to them. His voice was calm, steady, almost unnervingly detached, as though the moment upstairs had never even happened. He didn’t glance back at me, didn’t check if I was following. He was just… gone, like I wasn’t even in his world anymo

Lucien’s POVThe meal was already laid out by the time I returned to the hall. The long dining table gleamed under the soft gold of the chandeliers, polished wood catching every flicker of candlelight. Silverware was set in perfect alignment, steaming dishes carried in and out by the maids who tried to pretend they weren’t straining under the weight of trays. The room was filled with scents—spices, roasted meat, wine uncorked and poured, bread still warm from the oven. The servants had done well, but I barely tasted any of it in the air. My mind wasn’t on food.Natasha still hadn’t stopped pacing. She moved restlessly near the edges of the hall, her gown swishing with each sharp turn, her hair falling over her shoulder, slipping loose no matter how many times she tucked it back. The anxiety clung to her like a shadow, and no matter how many reassurances I gave, it didn’t ease. Each time her feet hit the floor, I felt her nerves ripple across the bond, heavy, unsteady, threatening to s

Natasha’s POVThe whole day felt like it had been stolen from me, twisted and turned in ways I couldn’t quite settle inside my chest. It was as though morning had come with promises I didn’t fully understand, and now night had arrived to remind me of everything I wished I could forget. From the moment I walked into that dining hall and saw the way his mother’s words carved into the air, I knew something inside me had shifted. It wasn’t just the words themselves, it was the weight of them, the way they had been coated with unspoken meanings and dropped like stones into the room.And I hated that I could feel it still, sitting heavy in my bones long after the chandeliers dimmed and the chatter died down.I sat on the edge of my bed, my gown loosened, the pins pulled from my hair so that strands spilled over my shoulders in a tangle. The moonlight came through the high windows in slants of silver, the kind of light that never comforted but only made the shadows sharper. I stared at the w