TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 71

CHAPTER 45: WINTER ROSE

EMBER’S POV

“That sounds like a terrible Investment.”

“The best ones usually do.”

“And if I told him you bribed your way into this?”

“He’d probably challenge me to a duel. Very dramatic. Lots of growling.” Rafael glances back at me,

amused. “Would you like to watch? I hear modern women love that.”

I shouldn’t smile. I definitely shouldn’t smile.

My lips twitch anyway.

“There it is.” His voice softens. “You should do that more often.”

“Do what?”

“Stop holding your breath.”

The observation lands somewhere uncomfortable. I look away, focusing on the path, the fake snow, the

ridiculous Christmas decorations everywhere.

We walk in silence for a moment. He finds the icicle before I do, plucks it from a low branch, adds it to our

basket. His movements are easy, unhurried. Like he has nowhere else to be.

“You’re not what I expected,” I admit.

“Let me guess. You expected more teeth. More posturing. More alpha theatrics.”

“Something like that.”

“I save those for people who bore me.” He guides me around an icy patch, his hand at my elbow. “You don’t

bore me.”

“That’s generous. We’ve only spoken twice.”

“Three times now.” He holds up three fingers. “And each time, you’ve surprised me. That’s rare

“What’s so surprising about me?”

“You have a backbone you pretend you don’t have.” He says it simply, like fact “You’re terrified but you haven’t run. And you look at Knox like you can’t decide if you want to kiss him or flee him, which “He laughs softly. “That’s the correct response to Knox Volkov, honestly.”

I snort before I can stop myself.

“See? There you go again. Breathing.” His smile widens. “It suits you”

“You’re a sweet-talker.”

CHARTER AS AN

Ive been called worse.”

We continue through the hunt, and I hate how easy this is.

+25ints

Hate how he doesn’t press or push or demand. Hate how he asks me questions-small ones, harmless ones-and actually listens to the answers instead of waiting for his turn to talk.

He tells me about his home in Argentina without me having to ask. Mentions the estancias-the sprawling ranches in Patagonia where he learned to ride before he learned to read.

His voice goes soft when he talks about the land, the horses, the endless sky when he races in his wolf

form. His mother, who passed years ago. The way the pampas feel like the only place he can breathe.

“Spanish blood,” he says, “but Argentine soul. My family has roots in Castile going back centuries, but I’ve never felt at home in Madrid. Too many walls. Too many expectations.”

“And Argentina doesn’t have expectations? I mean, you’re still Alpha in both places.”

“True, but Madrid fits me into a single mold. The perfect Montenegro heir. Argentina has space.” His eyes

meet mine. “Room to be something other than what your nature demands.”

I understand that more than I want to admit.

“What about you and Knox?” I ask, and keeping him talking feels natural now-curious. “He looks at you

like he wants to rip your throat out. Why?”

Rafael’s smile turns lazy. Secretive.

“Ah. I’m just the man who loves to piss him off.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s easy. Because he makes it fun.” He shrugs. “Because watching the great Lycan King lose his

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