TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 345

CHAPTER 272 MY WIFE MY MATE MY LOVE 2

CHAPTER 272: MY WIFE, MY MATE, MY LOVE–2

I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand, which is not glamorous or queenly.

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

He pulls me closer and presses his lips to my forehead. Then my temple. Then my cheekbone. Then the

of my nose. Then the corner of my mouth. Then the other corner.

Each kiss soft and deliberate and warm and by the fifth one I’m half–laughing and half–crying because he covering my entire face in kisses with the systematic thoroughness of a man who intends to leave no

square inch unkissed.

“Knox, you’re getting your spit all over me-”

He ignores this completely, pulls me tighter against him, sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and kisses me properly – slow, warm, deep, the kind of kiss that makes the tarmac and the plane and Alaska and Rafael and the vision and every terrible thing dissolve into the background until there’s nothing left excep

his mouth and mine and the promise living in the space between them.

He pulls back just enough to speak against my lips.

“My wife,” he says. “My mate. My love. We’re about to spend the rest of our lives together. Any objections You should know that you’re not allowed to jump off the plane once you realise what an obsessive,

suffocating, shoe–hoarding romantic I am. The exit doors will be sealed. There is no escape.”

I laugh. A real one, wet and shaky but REAL, and the sound of it pushes the fear back to a manageable

distance.

“I promise not to puke too much,” I say.

He grins. The full one. The rare one. The one that uses his whole face and makes me forget that the world

has ever been anything but this.

Queenie approaches Nathaniel near the stairs of the plane.

I can see them from where I’m standing but I can’t hear the words, and I don’t try to, because this is their moment and their pain and it deserves the dignity of privacy even in a public space.

She talks. He listens. His hand reaches for hers, instinctive, reflexive, the muscle memory of a man who has been reaching for this woman for years

She steps back. His hand hangs in the air between them, fingers open, palm up, holding nothing.

She says something else Short He nods Once The nod of a man who has just received information he already knew was coming and had hoped, against all his considerable intelligence, might not

Queenie walks to the plane, steps up the stairs, and doesn’t look back

Nathaniel stands on the tarmac with his hand still slightly raised, as if the gesture hasn’t fully registered its own uselessness. Then the hand drops.

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