TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 403

CHAPTER 329 VEINY SCHLONG

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CHAPTER 329: VEINY SCHLONG

EMBER’S POV

“So, funny story-”

“Ember.”

“Do you want it right now, or should we save it for a moment when there isn’t an elder present to-”

Catherine makes a noise.

It begins as a wheeze.

And my very first thought is I have killed her; I have killed the only elder who ever liked me, felled by a marble p***s; that’s my whole legacy; that’s what they’ll carve on my headstone – and then her narrow

shoulders start to shake.

And the wheeze cracks wide open, and she turns from the window with genuine tears streaking her

weathered face, laughing so hard she has to seize the windowsill to stay upright.

“A sundial,” she gasps out, clutching her ribs. “You looked me in the eye and called it a sundial! I am just picturing the High Council arriving soon and trying to politely check the time on a six-foot, !”

There is nothing left of me. I am a shell. I am officially dead.

“The high council will arrive next week for the annual gala.” She’s mopping at her eyes with one hand,

entirely gone, decades of dignity evaporated. “Rothschild. The man has a heart condition, you understand.

He is going to drive through that gate, and he is going to see that, and I am going to be in the car directly behind him.” She presses the back of her hand hard against her mouth. It accomplishes nothing. “I have

waited years for something this good to happen to me. Whose idea was it? Tell me it was yours. Don’t you

dare tell me it was his.”

“… It was mine,” I admit. Well,.

“Obviously it was yours.” She lowers herself into an entrance-hall chair. “He would have commissioned something tasteful. A lion. Something with gravitas.” She flaps a hand vaguely in Knox’s direction without looking at him. “No meant, Your Majesty. You are a magnificent king and a formidable ruler, and you have the whimsy of a tax document.”

Knox opens his mouth in shock.

And I watch, riveted, as the most powerful man on the continent, the terror of the packs, the wolf whose name makes elders lower their eyes, stands in his own entrance hall and, for the first time in the entire history of my knowing him, has absolutely nothing to say.

“Sit down, child.” Catherine waves me toward the chair across from her, still catching her breath. “Both of you. Before

you drop those bags on your feet and I have to explain to the council why the King’s mate is limping.” She catches sight of Marjorie hovering in the doorway, hiding her own amusement behind a

CHAPTER 329 VEINY SCHLONG

cough. “Tea, if you’d be so kind. And whatever these two have been drinking, because I want a great deal unit.”

So I sit.

I don’t entirely understand what’s happening, but I sit, still clutching one bag to my chest like a breastplate.

Knox lowers himself beside me with the wary care of a man who has been thoroughly ambushed in his

own home.

But as he settles into the chair, I feel the shift in the air. He crosses one ankie over his knee, his posture

instantly commanding, and inclines his head.

“Elder Catherine,” Knox says, his voice a smooth, dark rumble. “I must formally for my future wife’s rather… enthusiastic sense of regarding our landscaping.” He casts a brief, amused glance at me that promises absolute retribution later. “But I know your schedule. You didn’t drive all this way just to critique the

masonry. To what do we owe the ?”

Elder Catherine looks between us, and the laughter fades down slowly into something more serious.

“You want to know why I really came,” she says.

“I assumed it was Council business,” I say quietly.

“It isn’t Council business. My official mandate to monitor this estate ended a long time ago.” She settles the wool coat around her shoulders. “I came because I’m a nosy old woman who staked a great deal of her reputation on a crying girl and a King everyone told her was lying, and I wanted to see, with my own two eyes, whether I’d made a fool of myself.” Her gaze doesn’t waver off me. “There were those on that council who thought I’d gone soft in my old age. That I’d let a pretty story and a wet face cloud years of good judgment. I’ve spent months wondering if they were right.”

My throat starts to close.

“And?” Knox says, and there’s a low edge under it now, a protectiveness, because he doesn’t yet know which way this is going and he’s already halfway to standing between me and it.

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CHAPTER 138A SPARKIN YOUR EYES