TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 454

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CHAPTER 377: CALL YOUR FATHER

EMBER’S POV

He pauses. The polished host actually blinks, his elegant smile faltering.

“Watch?”

I turn to look at Cassian with the withering pity usually reserved for slow children.

“Yes, Cassian. Watch. With his eyes.” I let out a sharp, highly irritated sigh. “Do I need to draw you a diagram? It is a strict sexual requirement. He is going to stand in the corner, perfectly silent, and watch me thoroughly degrade whatever grease-covered feral I purchase tonight. Knowing he is forced to stand there and watch me take my pleasure makes it exponentially hotter for me, and Jon the First here is my designated audience.”

I wave a dismissive, jewel-heavy hand at the towering Lycan King behind me without so much as glancing back.

“He is exceptionally good at maintaining eye contact and repressing his trauma while I get off. It is literally what I pay him for.”

Behind me, I can feel the exact millisecond Knox stops breathing. The air in our immediate vicinity practically drops ten degrees, troubled with the promise of utter retribution when we get home.

“But ma’am-”

I step closer to Cassian, tilting my chin up to look down my nose at him.

“I was under the impression the Slaughterhouse could accommodate complex palates. If a little non-participatory sexual voyeurism offends your delicate sensibilities, Cassian, I am going to be deeply underwhelmed. Or is your establishment far more disappointing than the rumours promise?”

The silence stretches tensely between us.

For a second, I think I have screwed up.

But then Cassian laughs, and I know I’ve won him.

“Forgive me, Lady Aster. I’ve done you a genuine disservice.” He inclines his head, real appreciation in it now. “Of course your man watches. This house caters to every appetite, however rarefied.” His eyes flick back to Knox, reassessing, and Knox stares back over the mask. “Though I confess a curiosity about the mask. Our patrons do so like to know whose

CHAPTER 377 CALL YOUR FATHER

air they’re breathing.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to see what’s under it,” I say, and let my mouth curl, confiding, leaning in like I’m doing him a favour. “Weeping rash. It’s down one entire side of his face. Some rogue skin rot he picked up in a fighting pit, terribly contagious, absolutely razes a room the second it’s out in the open. But he’s the best I’ve ever had, Cassian, and I am simply not the sort of woman who discards a good thing over a little pus.” I flick my fingers. “Leave the mask on. Consider it my gift to your other guests.”

Cassian’s beautiful face performs a small complicated journey and arrives, wisely, at the decision that it would very much rather not know.

“The mask stays. Naturally.” He sweeps a graceful arm toward the glittering room. “Shall we? I think you’ll find our collection satisfies even the most… discerning palate.”

“We’ll see,” I say, in a tone conveying I’ve buried my hopes already, and I sweep past him into the beating heart of hell with my bodyguard two paces behind me, and I begin, privately, giddily, to have the time of my entire life.

Cassian gives a very good tour.

He walks me up through the tiers like a curator showing off the wing he’s proudest of, and every level is more debauched than the last, and I have to regard all of it with the flat

boredom of a woman who’s seen finer sin on a slow afternoon.

We pass a gaming floor where rogues wager secrets. As we walk by, I watch a rogue lose a

hand.

His eyes roll back, glazing over completely white, his face going slack as something invisible is violently drawn right out of his skull. Ice drops straight into my stomach.

I look away quickly, falling into step behind Cassian, keeping my chin high while my eyes scan the chaotic room, hunting for Devika.

We get to see a pit where two enormous men beat each other bloody while a shrieking crowd bets on the colour of the next tooth to fly.

There is also a lounge of low couches and lower light where I very deliberately keep my eyes on the middle distance and my expression on unbothered.

Dancers are everywhere, gold and skin and motion. There is also a tiger. An actual tiger, on a chain, wearing more jewellery than I am.

“You keep a tiger, I observe, unimpressed, as though I have three at home.

“The previous owner lost her at the tables,” Cassian says smoothly. “The house collects

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<CHAPTER 377. CALL YOUR FATHER

many things, my lady.”

And through all of it, two steps back, Knox watches.

-25 Points

I feel his eyes on the nape of my neck the whole way up, tracking every man who looks at me a beat too long, and it is its own slow-burning heat, being hunted by the one person in this whole depraved mountain who actually owns me.

Then Cassian stops us at a checkpoint where there is a red rope and a pit boss with a scary face. The man holds up a hand.

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