His Stripper Mate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

Nikolai didn’t look at the orange paper. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at me—dark, heavy, and full of a predatory stillness—told me he already knew exactly what was written on it.The silence in the Rusty Halo wasn’t just quiet; it was a physical weight. The four old-timers at the end of the bar had stopped breathing. Even the neon halo above the door seemed to hum a little lower, as if afraid to draw his attention.Jinx, to their credit, didn’t flinch. They reached under the bar, their hand settling on that brass pipe, and leaned forward until they were eye-to-eye with the man who looked like he could dismantle the building with a thought."I’m going to ask you once, Mountain," Jinx said, their voice like a rasp over gravel. "Who the hell are you, and why are you looking at my girl like you’re trying to decide which part of her to eat first?"Nikolai’s gaze flicked to Jinx for a microsecond. The gold ring in his iris was blinding in the dim bar light, a warning flare from a be

Sasha’s POV I woke up because the silence was too loud. If that defined exactly what I felt. In the slums, you never really sleep; you just hover in a state of paranoia. You listen for the wet snap of a broken pipe, the rhythmic thud of a debt collector’s boot, or the rough breathing of a sister who might stop at any moment. But here, in the guest wing of the house, the air was filtered, climate-controlled, and eerily still. It felt like sleeping in a tomb made of silk. My back was stiff, but not because the armchair was bad. It was actually the most expensive piece of furniture I’d ever sat in, upholstered in a velvet so deep it felt like it was trying to swallow me whole. That was the problem with this place. Everything was designed to make you forget you were a guest. Everything was designed to make you feel at home. I shifted, the medical journals on my lap sliding to the floor with a soft thud. Across the room, Nyx was a pale shadow beneath the high-thread-count sheets. The V

"He's behind us, isn't he?" I had asked. Nikolai’s grip on my waist was a brand of heat through the silk of my dress. "He is," he rasped. "And he's looking at you like he’s seeing a ghost." I kept my eyes forward, my chin tilted at the exact angle Nikolai had shown me in the mirror. I was doing it. I was standing in a room full of apex predators, and I wasn't shaking. But then, a very different, entirely un-magical sensation hijacked my nervous system. My bladder gave a sharp, insistent twinge. Between the three glasses of sparkling water I’d nervously downed in the car, the adrenaline of the public debut, and the heavy, boned structure of the red dress pressing against my stomach, I suddenly needed to pee with the urgency of a toddler. It is remarkably difficult to feel like an ascending lunar goddess when your body is reminding you of its basic plumbing. I leaned into Nikolai, keeping my voice low. "I need the ladies' room." His jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the crowd

Zo’s POV "You're glowing," Nikolai murmured, his voice a low vibration that bypassed my ears and settled directly in my chest. "I handled it," I said, keeping my voice steady. I wasn't going to give Cynthia the satisfaction of being a topic of conversation. "She won't be bothering us again tonight." A slow, dangerous smile curved Nikolai's mouth. It was a look of pure, unadulterated pride. "I have no doubt. Are you ready to leave?" "I thought you had business partners to charm." "My only business tonight is making sure my Luna gets home safely." He offered his arm. I took it, my fingers curling around the fine wool of his tuxedo jacket. As we descended the grand staircase, I didn't scan the crowd for Damien. I didn't look for Cynthia's broken reflection. I kept my chin high, letting the weight of my own power anchor me to Nikolai's side. We bypassed the lingering elites, walked through the flash of the paparazzi's cameras without breaking stride, and slipped into the waiting

The ghost of Celeste’s smile faded, replaced by a sudden, violent spike in my blood temperature. I gripped the edges of the bathroom sink, staring at my reflection as a sheen of sweat broke out across my collarbone. It started as a flush, then escalated into a roaring, liquid fire that radiated from my core. Heat. I was going into heat. My skin felt too tight. My breasts ached with a heavy, hypersensitive throb, and deep in my stomach, an empty, violent cramping demanded to be filled. It was an emptiness so profound it felt like my body was trying to consume itself. I stumbled out of the bathroom. The emerald robe clung to my damp skin, but it offered no relief. The air in the bedroom felt like a physical weight. Nikolai was sitting on the edge of the bed. The moment I crossed the threshold, his head snapped up. The gold in his eyes didn't just flare; it consumed his irises entirely. His nostrils flared, pulling in my scent. I knew what he smelled. The distress was gone, re