TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 215

CHAPTER 151: A MILLION BRUSHSTROKES

EMBER’S POV

We walk slowly through the woods, Rafael matching his pace to mine. He doesn’t ask questions or push for explanations. He guides me toward the main house with a patience I didn’t know he possessed.

He settles me on a couch in a room I don’t recognize – some kind of sitting room, all warm wood and soft lighting. Then he disappears for a moment and returns with a blanket, a cup of tea, a small bottle of pills

“For the anxiety,” he says, shaking one into his palm. “I used to have them too. When I first moved from Spain. The pressure, the expectations, the feeling that everyone wanted something from me and I didn’t know who to trust.”

I take the pill and drink the tea and let the warmth seep into my frozen limbs, too numb to do anything else.

“I’m sorry, I manage finally. “For falling apart on you. You shouldn’t have had to-”

“Don’t apologize.” He settles into a chair across from me, his expression softer. “I meant what I said before. I’m not a good person. But I’m not cruel. And I don’t enjoy watching you suffer.”

The silence stretches between us, almost comfortable.

“How are you feeling?” he asks after a moment.

I shrug, wordless. I don’t have the energy for language right now.

He tries again. “What happened out there?”

“I’m not sure.” My voice comes out hollow. “I’m not sure I want to think about it at all.”

Rafael nods slowly, accepting this without pushing.

“Maybe,” he says, “I can interest you in a little something to take the painful thoughts away.” He stands, offering me his hand. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to show you. I was waiting for the right moment, but…” His expression shifts, something a little nervous bleeding through. “I think you might need

to see it now more than ever.”

My eyes drift to the door.

My heart pounds for a second, wishing Knox had come after me. That he’d come searching through the woods the moment i ran, because it’s freezing and the snow is picking up and I was out there alone and

falling apart.

But deep down, I know he wouldn’t leave Rayana’s side. Not while she’s like this.

The thought twists a painful pang in my chest, and reminds me exactly why I need this escapism

1 take his hand.

SAFADA JATAMIL DAN BEHSTROKTS

He leads me through the house, down corridors + haven’t explored, until we reach a set of ornate double doors. He pushes them open and steps back, letting me enter first.

I stop breathing.

It’s a gallery. An actual gallery, museum–quality, with soaring ceilings and carefully positioned lighting and walls lined with paintings that must be worth more than most people make in a lifetime.

The space is vast and hushed, the kind of silence that settles into your bones.

“My mother’s collection,” Rafael says, moving to stand beside me. “She loved art. Spent her life acquiring pieces that spoke to her, that made her feel something. When she died, I couldn’t bear to sell any of it. So l built this place to house it all.”

I walk slowly through the room, taking in the paintings one by one Landscapes and portraits and abstract pieces that pulse with color and emotion.

Each one feels alive somehow, vibrating with the passion of its creator.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe.

“It is.” Rafael’s voice is quiet. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

He guides me to a corner of the gallery, where a single canvas rests on an easel, draped with a cloth.

“I painted this myself,” he says. “Over the past week. I’m not as skilled as the masters on these walls, but…

I wanted to try. I wanted to capture something that calls to my soul.”

He pulls the cloth away.

And I see myself.

Not a photograph. A painting. Oil on canvas, rendered in shades of gold and shadow.

It steals my breath. Stills everything inside me.

Because it’s me, but it’s also not me. It’s me through Rafael’s eyes

–

luminous somehow, almost glowing.

I’m wearing a silky dress that drapes like water over my curves, sensual in a way I’ve never thought of myself.

My dark auburn hair catches the light like it’s alive, richer and more luminous than any mirror has ever

shown me.

My face is turned slightly away, like I’m looking at something the viewer can’t see, and my eyes hold a spark I’ve never seen in myself before. Something fierce. Something unbroken.

He’s painted me beautiful.

my eyes

Beautiful in the way that aches. In the way that makes you want to reach out and touch, just to make sure

It’s real.

“Every line,” Rafael says softly, “I chose because I saw it in you. The curve of your cheek when you smile.

TRAUTERINIA–MIL DOH BRUNNEREKTN

The way your eyes catch the light when you’re thinking. The fire that burns under your skin, even when you’re trying to hide it.”

I can’t speak. Goddess. can’t breathe.

“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you,” he continues. “But this isn’t about wanting. This is about seeing. And I see you, Ember. All of you. Even the parts you try to hide.”

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