MY CRUEL PROTECTOR のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

POV RUBYSleeping next to Nevan was like trying to rest beside an active volcano. The heat radiating from his body seeped through the silk sheets, and the sound of his deep, steady breathing was the only music in the dimly lit room. I lay there, rigid, my gaze fixed on the canopy of the bed, agonizingly aware of every inch of space that separated us.He hadn't touched me. Not once. He had kept his word from the night before, and it was driving me out of my mind.I turned slowly onto my side, trying not to make a sound. Nevan’s back was toward me, once again revealing that tattooed coat of arms that I now knew was the mark of a criminal empire. The shadows from the fireplace danced over his tense muscles. He seemed to be asleep, but with Nevan, one could never be sure."Do you like what you see, Ruby?" His voice, thick with sleep and a raspy perversity, shattered the silence.I jolted, burying my face in the pillow."I thought you were asleep," I whispered, my heart hammering against m

POV RUBY The days in Nevan’s manor bled into one another, marked only by the shifting light through the heavy drapes and the unsettling rhythm of his presence. Each morning, Silas would escort me to the stables for another "lesson" with Cinder, where Nevan would observe from afar, his gaze a burning brand on my skin. Each evening, a solitary dinner was served in the grand dining room, where Nevan would sit at the head of the impossibly long table, watching me with an intensity that made the food taste like ashes. He hadn't touched me since the stables. Not in the way I secretly craved. He maintained his cruel game, pushing me to the brink of my sanity with his calculated restraint. He would talk about his "business" in cryptic terms, hinting at violent encounters and power plays, then shift to discussing classic art, testing my knowledge, challenging my intellect, always reminding me that he knew every facet of my former life. Tonight was no different. The massive mahogany table

POV RUBY The air in the room felt like a physical weight, pressing down on my lungs until every breath was a conscious effort. Nevan’s hand was still a heavy, searing presence between my legs, pinning me to the reality of my own craving. I was torn open—not just by the jagged rip in my silk gown, but by the way he was looking at me. In the flickering amber glow of the dying fire, he didn't look at me like a victim. He didn't look at me with the clinical detachment of the professors I’d studied under. He looked at me like a mirror reflecting a truth I had spent years trying to bury. "You're waiting for it, aren't you?" Nevan’s voice was a ghost of a sound, a raspy vibration that seemed to originate from the very shadows of the room. He leaned in closer, his face so near that I could see the flecks of gold swirling in his icy, predatory pupils. "You want me to drown out the noise in your head with pain and pleasure. You want the Jefe to fix the broken doll. You want the chaos to stop

POV RUBYThe cellar, which moments ago felt like a sanctuary of ancient secrets, suddenly transformed into a death trap. Nevan’s kiss—heavy with the fire of discovery and the burden of our shared history—was interrupted not by reason, but by a roar that shook the very stone foundations of the manor.BOOM.The echo of a distant explosion was followed by the rhythmic, dry staccato of automatic gunfire directly above us. Nevan pulled away instantly, his face hardening into a mask of tactical coldness. The passion in his eyes was replaced by the lethal calculation of the "Jefe.""They're here," he hissed, sliding me off the desk in one fluid motion while drawing a 9mm pistol from the small of his back."Vane?" I asked, my voice trembling as I tried to pull the tattered remains of my silk gown together. The "Old Guest" in my head wasn't afraid; it was euphoric, feeding on the sudden chaos."Vane didn't come alone. He brought his entire army of mercenaries." Nevan moved toward the cellar do

POV RUBYThe first thing I felt was the cold. It wasn't the refined, filtered chill of the manor, but a raw, industrial cold that seeped through the thin walls of the warehouse and settled into the marrow of my bones. I opened my eyes to the sight of a cracked concrete ceiling and a single, unshaded lightbulb that swung gently in the draft. For a heartbeat, the "Old Guest" was silent, and I was just Ruby Lane, a girl waking up in a place that smelled of rust and spent adrenaline.Then, I felt the weight.Nevan was still beside me on the thin mattress, his arm draped heavily across my waist as if even in sleep, he was anchoring me to the earth. His breathing was deep and rhythmic, the only steady sound in the cavernous silence of the loft. I stayed perfectly still, watching the way the dim morning light caught the scars on his shoulder—each one a silent testament to a life of violence I was now inextricably linked to.Last night hadn't been a dream. The escape, the burning manor, the r