TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 203

CHAPTER 141: LIKE. NOT LOVE?

EMBER’S POV

But he didn’t write that – did he? He couldn’t have.

Knox doesn’t say things like that. Knox barely admits to liking things, let alone loving them.

Knox doesn’t do feelings, or commitment, or long–term declarations – and I hate that in this moment my heart yearns bitterly for it to be him.

It yearns to such a painful degree that it’s a physical pang in my chest.

But I know too well how much that sets me up for disappointment.

I like you a lot, Ember. That was his truth.

Like. Not love.

Never love.

Rafael is watching me too, his expression carefully neutral but his eyes dark with something that makes my skin prickle.

Even Nathaniel’s gaze has softened slightly, flickering to Queenie beside him before snapping back to the middle distance.

“Well,” Rayana murmurs. “Isn’t that sweet. Someone at this table has feelings.”

“Shocking development,” Knox deadpans, but his voice is rougher than usual.

“I’m terrified I’m not enough.”

My heart slams against my ribs. That’s mine. That’s my confession, read aloud in Rayana’s crisp voice, and I have to force my expression to stay neutral while everyone glances around trying to figure out who wrote

1. it.

“Relatable,” Queenie says softly.

r

“More than it should be,” Rafael agrees, and there’s something almost genuine in his voice.

Knox is frowning slightly, his eyes scanning the room, and when they land on me I see something shift in his expression – recognition, maybe, or concern.

I look away before he can read too much.

“I just want something real.”

Also mine. I feel exposed now, stripped bare, even though no one knows these words belong to me. Rayana reads them like they’re nothing, just another card in the pile, but they sit heavy in my chest. “Don’t we all,” Rayana says quietly, and for a moment she sounds less like a socialite playing games and

more like a dying woman who’s run out of time for pretense.

“I have four words: not on my watch.”

She looks up from the card, frowning slightly.

“Is this… a threat? A promise? A deeply confusing mission statement?”

“Context would help,” Knox agrees. “Though I respect the energy”

“It’s giving overprotective bodyguard,” Queenie offers, some of her usual spark returning. “Like someone’s about to throw themselves in front of a bullet while dramatic music plays.”

Nathaniel shifts slightly in his seat, and I notice he’s very carefully not looking at anyone.

His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and there’s something almost defiant in the way he stares at the fire.

Interesting.

“Final card.” Rayana draws it with theatrical flourish, holding it up like a prize. “I’m not afraid to take what I

want anymore.”

She reads it aloud, and Rafael’s eyes find mine across the table.

Slowly. Deliberately. With an intensity that makes my spine burn and Knox’s hand clench around his whiskey glass hard enough that I hear the crystal creak.

I didn’t write it. I know I didn’t write it.

But the way Rafael is looking at me

like I’m something he’s decided to claim, like this whole trip is just

the opening move in a game he’s been planning for months

–

“Interesting,” Rayana murmurs, watching the exchange with obvious fascination. Her eyes flick from Rafael to me to Knox’s white–knuckled grip. “Very, very interesting.”

“I think that’s enough confessions for one night,” Knox says, his voice deceptively calm in that way that means he’s about thirty seconds from committing violence.

“I think we’re just getting started.” Rafael’s smile doesn’t waver. “But if you’re uncomfortable, by all means

– we can move on to something else. I wouldn’t want our gracious king to feel threatened in any way.”

“I don’t feel threatened.” Knox’s eyes are ice. “I feel curious about how long it takes a man to choke on his

own teeth.”

“Boys,” Rayana sighs. “Can we not? I’m trying to enjoy my dying wish vacation without bloodshed.”

“No promises,” Knox says flatly.

Rafael just keeps smiling, his gaze sliding back to me like a caress, and the message in his eyes is clear:

I meant every word.

It’s Queenie who spots the lights first.

She’s standing by the window now, champagne abandoned, her face pressed against the glass like a child at a candy store.

“Oh my goodness” she breathes. “Oh my goodness, you guys. Look

I cross to stand beside her, and whatever sarcastic comment I was preparing dies in my throat.

The sky is on fire.

Green ribbons dance across the darkness, shifting and flowing like silk in water. They pulse and weave, creating curtains of light that seem to breathe, to move with some cosmic rhythm I can’t quite hear but

can feel in my bones.

Hints of purple and pink flicker at the edges, there and gone, colors I didn’t know the sky could make.

“Outside,” Rafael says, already moving toward the door. “You have to see it properly.”

We file out into the cold, and it’s even more beautiful without glass between us and the sky.

The air bites at my cheeks and fingers, but I barely notice because I can’t stop looking up.

This is nothing like the view from the Summit, from the night Knox fucked me under their glow. I thought I had seen the best of nature’s most colorful art, but my breath is stolen being this close.

–

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