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đŸ“•đŸ’•đŸ”„"Trading My Cheating Husband For The Lycan King"đŸ’”âžĄïžđŸ’ž (18+)

--Chapter 1 My Husband Is Gay? EMBER’S POV “Poor Ember. Eight years, and her husband still barely looks at her. What kind of omega can’t even hold her own mate’s attention?” The cruel whispers of the pack filled my head as I clutched the expensive shopping bags, my hands trembling. Inside was a red piece of lingerie — half my savings spent on a desperate, pathetic attempt to reignite a spark between my husband and me. This was supposed to be a time for miracles. When love triumphed, and broken things became whole again. My mate, Gale, had even insisted that I spend the day at the spa. “Relax, baby. Get your nails done. I need you perfect for tomorrow’s gala.” That single word — baby — had made my heart leap with foolish hope. Maybe things would finally change. Maybe tonight he’d want me again. I pulled into our driveway, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tonight had to work. It had to. But the moment I opened the front door, I knew something was horribly wrong. The smell hit me immediately. Raw and musky and unmistakably s3xual. My wolf, Sapphire, bristled, warning me to turn around and leave. But I kept walking like an idiot, following the low groans, the breathless laughter, the unmistakable rhythm of bodies moving together. They were coming from the living room. Moaning. Laughter. Flesh slapping against flesh. I rounded the corner and stopped breathing. Gale was on his knees with his face buried between Logan Reeves’ legs. Logan, his so-called business partner, who came over twice a week for “late-night strategy sessions.” There was a younger man I’d never seen before, bent over the couch arm while another stranger fu<ked him from behind. A full orgy. All men. All of them naked and sweating and laughing. My brain couldn’t process what I was seeing. Gale always talked about how ‘disgusting’ homosexuality was, how unnatural it was, how pack traditions forbade such behaviour. He’d shamed people for it publicly. And now he was here doing this. But the shock of seeing him with men wasn’t even the worst part. “Goddess, Gale,” Logan groaned, his fingers tangled in my husband’s hair. “You’re incredible. No wonder you keep that frigid omega around for appearances.” The younger man laughed breathlessly. “Does she even know her Alpha husband has never been interested in p^ssy?” “Of course not,” Gale said, pulling back to wipe his mouth. His voice was casual, amused, like they were discussing the weather. “She’s too stupid to figure it out. Too desperate and pathetic to see what’s right in front of her face.” Then he did something that made my world shatter completely. He mimicked my voice, high-pitched and whiny. “Gale, please touch me. Gale, don’t you want me? Gale, what am I doing wrong?” They all burst into cruel laughter that echoed off the walls. My hands went numb. The shopping bags slipped from my fingers and hit the marble floor with a crash. Red lingerie spilt out across white tile like a pool of bl00d. Four heads whipped toward me. Gale’s face went pale, then red. “Ember, this isn’t what it looks like—” I was already running. Down the hallway, through the front door, into my car. My hands shook so violently I could barely get the key in the ignition. My phone started buzzing immediately. Text after text flooding in. Gale: It’s not what it looked like. Gale: Come back so we can talk. Gale: You’re being dramatic. Then the threats started. Gale: If you tell anyone what you saw, I will destroy you. The treaty requires our marriage. You ruin me, you ruin both packs. Think about that, Ember. Tears blurred my vision as I drove. I didn’t know where I was going until I saw the airport sign and turned in automatically. I needed to get away. Needed to go home to Alaska, to my family’s house. I’d file for divorce the moment I landed. I couldn’t stay married to him. I couldn’t. I made it to the airport in shock, my body moving on autopilot while my brain tried to process what I’d seen. At the ticket counter, I pulled out my credit card with shaking hands. “Next available first-class ticket to Alaska,” I told the woman, my voice barely above a whisper. She processed the payment quickly. It took almost all the money I could access from my personal account, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get home. My phone kept buzzing. I looked down at the screen and saw message after message flooding in. Gale’s texts had shifted from apologetic to threatening to manipulative. Gale: Please, baby, let me explain. Gale: You’re overreacting. It was just stress relief. Gale: If you leave me, you’ll have nothing. NOTHING. Gale: Your parents will disown you for breaking the treaty. Gale: Come home right now or I’ll make sure every pack knows what a failure you are. I blocked his number with trembling fingers and shoved the phone deep into my purse. I made it onto the plane somehow and found my seat. The numbness started wearing off, replaced by a pain so intense I couldn’t breathe. Eight years I’d given him. Two years of dating where he’d courted me to convince his father I was the right choice—submissive, obedient, from a good family. The perfect arranged match. Six years of marriage where I’d tried everything to please him, to be the perfect omega wife, to make him want me. And it was all a lie. Good. Maybe now you’ll stop defending the b@stard who hits you, Sapphire snarled with venom. My wolf had hated him from the start. But I’d loved him. Or thought I did. I was the useless omega who couldn’t even keep her husband interested. The failure who drove her mate into the arms of other men. No, not even that. He’d never wanted me at all. I stumbled to the bathroom and locked myself inside. The sobs came from somewhere deep in my chest, ugly and raw and unstoppable. I pressed my hands over my mouth, trying to stay quiet, but the grief was too big to contain. I’d spent months questioning everything about myself. Was I too much or not enough? And when I pushed too hard for answers, for affection, for anything, his hands became fists. The bruises always hidden where no one could see. All those business trips. All those late nights at the office. All those times he said he was too tired or too stressed. He’d been with them. With those men. Laughing at how pathetic I was for believing his lies. Someone knocked on the door hard enough to rattle it. “Occupied!” I choked out. The knocking continued, louder and more insistent. “I said it’s occupied! Go away!” The door opened anyway. “You do realize this is the men’s room, right?” The voice was deep and rough, vibrating through the tiny space and cutting through my spiral of misery. I looked up through tear-blurred eyes and froze. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Tall enough that he had to duck slightly through the doorway, with broad shoulders that filled the entire frame. Dark hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it, a sharp jawline, and eyes so blue they looked almost unnatural. There was something dangerous about him, something predatory that made my wolf sit up and take notice despite my broken state. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—” I tried to squeeze past him, but the bathroom was too small and he was too big and suddenly we were close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He caught my arm gently but firmly, stopping me completely. The touch sent a shock of electricity racing up my skin that made me gasp. “Why are you crying?” His voice had gone cold and commanding in a way that made something low in my stomach tighten. I couldn’t speak. His blue eyes bored into mine like he could see straight through to my soul, and there was heat in that gaze that made my breath catch. I knew this man from somewhere. I’d seen his face before, maybe in pack newsletters or territory reports, but I couldn’t place it through the fog of grief. His scent felt like a chemical. Pine and winter and something wild that made my head spin. “It’s none of your business,” I whispered, trying to pull my arm free. “Please just let me go.” His grip tightened slightly, possessive in a way that should have scared me but didn’t. “I think it is my business. I don’t like seeing a beautiful woman cry.” Beautiful. The word hit me with surprise. When was the last time anyone called me beautiful? When was the last time someone looked at me like I was worth something instead of a disappointing burden? Fresh tears spilt down my cheeks before I could stop them. “You want to know why I’m crying? Fine!” The words came out bitter and sharp. “I just caught my husband in a full orgy with his business partners. In our living room. On our couch. He was on his knees servicing another man while they all laughed about how stupid and desperate I am.” His expression darkened immediately. Something feral and violent flashed in those ice-blue eyes, there and gone so fast I almost missed it. Then his gaze turned molten, heated in a way that made my skin flush despite everything. “Your husband is a fool,” he said, his voice dropping lower and rougher. The sound of it sent shivers racing down my spine. “What kind of man would have you and choose anyone else?” The words were so unexpected, so genuine, that something inside me warmed. This stranger was looking at me with more desire and appreciation than my own husband had shown me in months of marriage. More than Gale had shown me in years, if I was being honest with myself. My voice broke as I spoke. “I tried so hard to be what he wanted.” I looked away, unable to meet his gaze as I admitted this to a stranger. “And the whole time, he was just
 laughing at me.” His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking there. “There’s nothing wrong with you. The problem is him.” “You don’t know that,” I murmured. “I know enough from where I’m standing.” He stepped closer, crowding me back against the small sink. His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing away my tears with surprising gentleness. “You’re trembling.” “I’m angry,” I whispered, but it came out breathless because his touch was doing things to me that I didn’t understand. I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do with all of it.” “What do you want to do?” What did I want? I wanted to stop feeling worthless. I wanted to stop being the pathetic omega everyone pitied. I wanted to feel desired instead of discarded. I wanted someone to look at me like this stranger was looking at me right now, like I was something precious and wanted and worth having. I was so tired of being good. Of following all the rules while everyone else broke them. Of trying to be the perfect wife while my husband made a fool of me. If Gale could have his fun, why couldn’t I? “If you really want to be a gentleman right now and save the damsel in distress
” I paused, watching his eyes darken further, pupils blowing wide. “Then you should bend me over right here and fu<k me against this wall.” His pupils went completely black. A low, rough sound rumbled from his chest—something between a growl and a groan that made my thighs clench. Yes, I just asked him to fu<k me. Chapter 2 The Big Bad Lycan EMBER’S POV The words hang between us, and I can’t believe I just said them. But there’s no denying the intensity of my desire for this man, even in the midst of my heartbreak. Sapphire is going absolutely feral inside me—she wants to feel his hands run down every inch of my skin and it makes no sense. We don’t even know him. He raises an eyebrow at me, something dark and amused flickering across his devastatingly handsome face. “Is that really what you want?” His voice drops lower, rougher, each word like a physical caress. I nod, feeling a rush of heat flood through me. I know it’s reckless, but I can’t help myself. I need this. I need him. I need to feel wanted instead of worthless. I need to forget Gale’s mocking voice, Logan’s cruel laughter, the image of my husband on his knees. If Gale can fu<k whoever he wants, so can I. But just as quickly as the moment ignited, it flickers out as he takes a step back from me, his expression cooling into something almost bored. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid I have other business to attend to.” What? He’s rejecting me? Something hot and humiliating floods through my chest. Of course. Of course even a stranger doesn’t want me. Gale was right—I’m desperate, pathetic, not worth— No. Fu<k that. Wild instinct takes over and I grab his arm as he turns to leave, yanking him back around. Before I can second-guess myself, before I can think about consequences or propriety or anything beyond this moment, I kiss him with everything I have. His lips are sinfully soft, perfect, and the contact sends a rush of liquid heat straight between my legs. For a moment, he’s completely still, and panic claws at me—oh Goddess, he really doesn’t want me— Then he growls. The sound is purely animalistic, vibrating against my mouth as his hands suddenly slam against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in. He kisses me back with bruising intensity, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger that makes my knees weak. Our tongues meet in a fierce dance and I cling to him desperately, wanting to lose myself in this moment, in this feeling of being wanted so intensely it borders on violence. His hands roam over my body with clear purpose—gripping my waist, my hips, my @ss—each touch sending electric shocks down my spine. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Maybe my relationship with Gale kept me so sexually starved that even this contact with a stranger drives me mad with lust, but I don’t care. I don’t fu<king care anymore. He shoves me back against the wall, pinning my wrists above my head with one large hand. His body presses hard against mine and I can feel every muscled inch of him, including the thick length of his c0ck straining against his pants, pressing into my stomach. Oh Goddess. His hot breath teases my neck as he peppers kisses along my throat, biting down on my pulse point hard enough to make me cry out. The pleasure-pain is exquisite, and I arch into him shamelessly. “Such pretty sounds,” he murmurs against my skin, voice like gravel. “I wonder what other noises I can make you make.” His free hand slides underneath my dress, trailing up my inner thigh with agonizing slowness. I’m trembling, desperate, my panties already soaked through. When his fingers finally brush against the lace, I gasp. “Fu<k,” he breathes, pressing harder. “You’re dripping wet already.” His fingers hook under the fabric, pushing it aside, and when he touches my bare p^ssy I actually whimper. “Are you this desperate to get fu<ked by me? By a complete stranger?” I should feel ashamed. I should stop this. Instead, I moan and lean into his touch, spreading my legs wider in shameless invitation. This is who I am now. The good girl who followed every rule is gone. I just want to feel something other than pain. “I want to hear you say it.” His finger circles my cl!t, slow and torturous, making my hips buck. “If you want my c0ck inside you that badly, then beg for it. Convince me you deserve it.” Then he plunges two fingers deep inside me. “Oh Goddess!” The cry rips from my throat as he fu<ks me with his fingers, rough and fast and perfect. My thighs shake, my whole body trembling as pleasure builds at an impossible rate. “Say it,” he demands, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes me see stars. “Yes! Please!” I’m gasping, grinding down on his hand. “Please fu<k me. I need you to take me right here. Use me, ruin me—I don’t care. Just please—” He chuckles darkly against my skin, the vibrations sending me even closer to the edge. Then his lips brush my ear, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d be such a naughty girl, Ember.” I freeze. Wait. How does he know my name? Why does he sound like he knows me? The pleasure has completely disoriented my thoughts, but I manage to pull back slightly, staring at this gorgeous stranger carefully. He still looks so familiar, I just can’t place from where
 “W-what?” My voice is breathless, shaky. “How do you know my name?” The devious man smirks, wicked intentions etched into every handsome line of his face. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your Lycan King, Ember darling.” His blue eyes hold that cruel, calculating glint I’ve seen before, and suddenly it hits me like a fu<king freight train. “I certainly know about the beautiful mate of Alpha Gale Crawford.” No. Oh Goddess, no. King Knox Volkov. I just kissed the most dangerous man in the world. I just begged the Lycan King to fu<k me in an airplane bathroom. As the Lycan King, he rules with an iron fist—both the urban city as a f!lthy rich CEO and the supreme ruler of the werewolf realm. He’s ruthless and unforgiving, with a reputation that precedes him. Stories of alphas who crossed him and simply disappeared. Packs that challenged his authority and were wiped off the map. He’s a man who commands respect and fear in equal measure, and I just threw myself at him like a b!tch in heat. Mortification crashes over me. He’s Gale’s boss. The supreme authority over every pack in North America. Do you know how ruined my life would be if word gets out that I tried seducing the Lycan King? Alpha Gale’s wife throwing herself at his superior? The scandal would destroy what little reputation I have left. I flush with embarrassment and try to push him away, but he steps in closer instead, his fingers still buried inside me, making me cry out involuntarily. “Don’t stop the fun now.” His grin is pure wickedness. “Why do you seem so frightened?” My mind is in chaos, my whole body overcome with conflicting urges—run, stay, hide, submit. “No
 no
 no.” I shake my head frantically when he leans in to kiss me again. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. This was a mistake. A huge mistake.” His expression darkens immediately, eyes flashing gold—his wolf rising to the surface. My heart pounds and all my false courage evaporates. “It’s too late for that.” King Knox growls. “You begged me to fu<k you, Ember. You asked me to ruin you. And that is exactly what I’m going to do. Nothing less.” “Wait—” But before I can object, before I can think, he spins me around to face the mirror and bends me over the sink. My hands slam against the counter to catch myself, and I watch in the mirror as he yanks my skirt up around my waist. His hand runs up my inner thigh and he discovers what his fingers already confirmed—I’m soaking wet, my thighs slick with arousal despite my protests. “Look at yourself,” he commands, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Look at how desperate you are for this. For me.” My reflection stares back—face flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, eyes wide and glassy with need. I look wrecked. I look like someone I don’t recognize. “This is your last chance to back out,” Knox says, his voice rough as his hands grip my hips. “Because once I’m inside you, you belong to me until I decide we’re done. Understand?” I should say no. Should push him away. Should think about the consequences. Instead, I push my hips back against him in answer. Knox growls in satisfaction. I hear the sound of fabric tearing and feel cool air against my p^ssy as he rips my panties completely off. Then he slams into me in one brutal thrust. “FU<K!” The scream tears from my throat as he splits me open. He’s huge, so thick I can barely breathe, filling me so completely it borders on pain. His hand clamps over my mouth immediately. “Quiet,” he orders against my ear. “Unless you want everyone on this plane to know what a desperate little sl^t you are.” He pulls out almost completely, then drives back in, setting a devastating rhythm that has the counter rattling under me. Each thrust pushes me forward, my palms squeaking against the mirror as I try to brace myself. “Watch,” he commands, forcing my head up to meet my own eyes in the reflection. “Watch how good you look getting fu<ked properly.” And I do. I watch myself take his c0ck, watch my face transform with pleasure, watch the way my body moves with each brutal thrust. I’ve never had s3x standing up before. Never felt anything like this raw, desperate claiming. It felt so fu<king good. His hand moves from my mouth to wrap around my throat, possessing, owning. His other hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise. “When’s the last time someone made you come?” he growls in my ear. I can barely think, barely breathe. “I
 I don’t remember
” He stills completely, and the look on his face in the mirror is pure fury. “You don’t remember?” “Gale never
 he never could
” Something feral crosses Knox’s expression. He pulls out suddenly and I whimper at the loss, feeling empty and aching. But then he spins me around, lifts me onto the counter, and drops to his knees. “What are you—oh my Goddess!” His mouth is on me, tongue finding my cl!t with devastating precision. His fingers push inside me, curling to hit that spot that makes my vision go white. I’ve never felt anything like this. Gale never wanted to do this, said it was degrading, that good omegas shouldn’t expect— I have to bite down on my own fist to keep from screaming as pleasure crashes over me in waves. My thighs clamp around Knox’s head, my whole body shaking as I come harder than I ever have in my life. Knox doesn’t give me time to recover. He stands, positions himself between my spread thighs, and fu<ks into me again—this time slower, deeper, watching my face as I take every inch. “Count,” he orders. “W-what?” “Count how many times you come. Because you’re going to remember exactly who gave you real pleasure for the first time.” He punctuates the words with a brutal thrust that hits something deep inside me, and I’m already climbing toward another 0rgasm, my body still sensitive from the first. “One,” I gasp out as the second one hits. Knox smirks and picks up his pace. By the time I gasp out “Three,” my voice hoarse and broken, there’s loud pounding on the bathroom door. “This is the flight attendant! You need to exit the bathroom immediately!” Sh!t. Chapter 3 Mile High 0rgasm EMBER’S POV King Knox doesn’t stop, not even when the flight attendant keeps knocking and demanding to know if everything’s alright. If only she knew that the Lycan King is currently buried deep inside me, fu<king me like he owns me. I bite down hard on my bottom lip to contain my moans, watching the feral hunger blazing in Knox’s golden eyes. His thrusts keep getting deeper, harder, more brutal—each one hitting something inside me that makes my toes curl and my vision go white. Then he closes the distance between us and captures my lips in a devastating kiss, swallowing my desperate whimpers as he drives in one final time, so deep I swear I can feel him in my throat. His teeth sink into my shoulder—not quite a mating bite but close enough to leave a mark—and he groans against my skin as his c0ck pulses inside me. I come one last time, clenching around him as he fills me, both of us frozen together, panting. The flight attendant pounds on the door again, more insistent this time. Knox pulls out slowly and I whimper at the loss, immediately feeling his c^m start to leak down my inner thighs. He calmly zips up and smooths his suit like he didn’t just rail me in an airplane bathroom, then helps fix my skirt with surprising gentleness. He picks up my destroyed panties from the floor and pockets them with a smirk. “You’re not wearing these for the rest of the flight,” he says, his voice still rough with satisfaction. “I want you to feel my c^m leaking out of you and remember exactly who fu<ked you properly.” My face burns. This man has absolutely no shame. Knox opens the door to face the mortified flight attendant. The woman’s eyes go wide when she recognizes him—everyone knows what the Lycan King looks like—and her face goes completely white. Knox slips her several hundred-dollar bills without blinking. “For your discretion and excellent service.” Then he walks back to his seat without looking back at me, leaving me standing in the bathroom doorway, thoroughly fu<ked, pantyless, and realizing I just had s3x with the most powerful alpha in North America. Oh my Goddess. Oh my Goddess. What did I just do? This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I just fu<ked the Lycan King. In an airplane bathroom. Without protection. And now his c^m is literally dripping down my thighs and I have no underwear because he ripped them off and pocketed them like some kind of trophy. I return to my seat on shaky legs, acutely aware of Knox’s warm c^m. The businessman in 3B is definitely smirking like he heard everything. The flight attendant won’t make eye contact and keeps her distance. I collapse into my seat, face burning with mortification. I refuse to look across the aisle where Knox has calmly returned to his seat and is reading something on his phone like he didn’t just fu<k me senseless thirty seconds ago. How can he be so calm? How can he act like nothing happened? Meanwhile I’m over here trying not to hyperventilate because I just cheated on my husband—even though my husband was literally in an orgy—with the most dangerous man in the werewolf world. The Lycan King. Gale’s boss. The man who could destroy both our packs with a single word. I need to process this. Need to think. Need to figure out what I’m going to do now. My phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out and see an unknown number calling. My finger hovers over the decline button, but something makes me answer. “Ember! Thank Goddess you picked up!” Gale’s voice makes my entire body go rigid with rage. He’s calling from someone else’s phone since I blocked him. Of course he is. Of course he found a way around my boundaries. “Don’t hang up, please, just listen to me for one second—” “I have nothing to say to you,” I snap, but he talks right over me like he always does. “What you saw wasn’t what you think!” His voice is high-pitched, hysterical, manic. “I love you, Ember. I swear to Goddess, I love you. Those men meant nothing. It was just stress relief, it doesn’t count as cheating—” Doesn’t count as cheating? DOESN’T COUNT AS CHEATING? I can hear Logan Reeves coaching him in the background. “Tell her you’ll go to therapy. Tell her you’ll change. Women love that. Tell her it’ll never happen again.” The audacity. The absolute fu<king audacity of both of them. “You’re calling me from Logan’s phone?” I gasp. “The same Logan whose d!ck was in your mouth two hours ago. Do you see the irony here, Gale? Do you?” “Baby, please, you have to understand—” “Don’t. Call. Me. That.” “I was confused! I didn’t know what I wanted! But I know now, I know I want you, I want our marriage—” “What you want,” I interrupt, my voice shaking with barely contained fury, “is for me to keep playing the perfect little omega wife while you fu<k whoever you want behind my back. That’s what you want.” “No! That’s not—where are you right now? Just tell me where you are and we can talk about this face to face. We can work through this together like adults—” “Work through this? You want to work through the fact that I caught you in a full gay orgy in our living room?” “It wasn’t—you’re making it sound worse than it was—” “How am I making it worse? There were three of you! You were on your knees! They were laughing about how pathetic I am!” Gale’s voice shifts, becomes harder, more calculated. “Our marriage is a pack treaty, Ember. If you leave me, you destroy both our packs. Is that what you want? To be responsible for a war? Think about your parents. Think about everyone who depends on this alliance—” “Oh, so now you’re threatening me?” “I’m not threatening you, I’m just being realistic. You can’t just run away because you’re upset. You have responsibilities. We both do. This is bigger than us—” A large, warm hand suddenly wraps around my wrist. I startle and look to my left to find Knox has moved from his seat across the aisle and is now sitting in the empty seat right beside me, his blue eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that steals my breath. When did he—how did I not notice him moving? Before I can ask, before I can protest, he plucks the phone from my hand with the casual dominance of someone who’s used to being obeyed without question. My eyes go wide. “What are you—” Knox puts the call on speaker. Gale’s pathetic pleading fills the quiet first-class cabin. “—I know I hurt you, but running away isn’t the answer. Come home and we’ll figure this out. I promise I’ll be better. I’ll be the husband you deserve. I’ll do whatever it takes—” Then Knox does something that makes my brain completely short-circuit. He slides his hand up my thigh, under my skirt, and pushes two fingers inside my still-sensitive pussy. Right there. In my seat. With other passengers nearby. With my husband on the phone. I open my mouth to protest but only a strangled gasp comes out. Knox’s eyes meet mine and there’s pure wicked amusement in them as his fingers curl inside me, finding that spot that makes me see stars. “What the—are you okay, Ember? Why are you breathing like that?” Gale’s voice sharpens with suspicion. “Who’s there with you? Is someone there?” I can’t answer. Can’t speak. Knox’s thumb finds my cl!t and starts circling it with maddening precision while his fingers pump slowly in and out of me. This is insane. This is absolutely insane. I’m furious—how dare he answer my phone, how dare he touch me like this in public, how dare he interfere—but I’m also getting dangerously close to coming and I can’t find the words to tell him to stop. My hand grips the armrest so hard my knuckles turn white. I bite down on my lip to keep from making noise. Gale is still talking. “Ember, answer me! Who’s breathing like that? Are you with someone? Tell me right now!” Knox leans down, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers just loud enough for me to hear. “Should I tell him? Should I tell your pathetic excuse for a husband that you’re currently dripping wet and clenching around my fingers?” I shake my head frantically, eyes wide with panic and arousal. Knox chuckles darkly and straightens up, his fingers never stopping their devastating rhythm inside me. Then he speaks into the phone, his voice cold and commanding. “She heard you clearly, Gale. She’s done.” Silence on the other end. Complete, dead silence. Then— “Who the fu<k is this?” “The divorce papers are already being prepared by my legal team,” Knox continues smoothly, like he’s discussing the weather and not currently finger-fu<king me. “And I assure you, they’re very thorough. Very expensive. You won’t like the settlement terms.” His thumb presses harder against my cl!t and I have to bite my fist to keep from crying out. “Is that
 no. No way. Is that King Knox Volkov?” Gale sounds like he’s choking. “What the fu<k is going on? Ember, what did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?” “What she did,” Knox says, his voice dropping to something dark and possessive, “is realize she deserves better than a closeted alpha who can’t even make her come.” Oh my Goddess. He did not just say that. “You son of a b!tch! You think you can just swoop in and—” “I don’t think anything,” Knox interrupts. “I know. And here’s what I know: Ember will be far too busy screaming my name to take any more of your pathetic calls. So stop calling.” “You’re fu<king her? You’re fu<king my wife?! How long?!” Gale is screaming now. “I’ll destroy you! I’ll go to the Council! I’ll—” Knox hangs up and drops the phone in my lap. His fingers never stop moving inside me. In fact, they speed up, curling harder, hitting that spot over and over while his thumb works my cl!t with devastating precision. I’m right on the edge, trembling, trying desperately to stay quiet. The businessman a few rows back has headphones in but the flight attendant definitely knows what’s happening and is pointedly facing away, her face bright red. “Come for me,” Knox murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. “Come on my fingers while you think about how much better this feels than anything your husband ever gave you.” His words push me over the edge. I come hard, biting down on my fist to muffle the sound, my p^ssy clenching rhythmically around his fingers, my whole body shaking with the intensity of it. Knox works me through every wave, drawing it out until I’m boneless and gasping. Slowly, he withdraws his fingers. I watch in horrified fascination as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, his eyes locked on mine the entire time. “Delicious,” he says softly. Then he calmly returns to his seat across the aisle like he didn’t just make me come in the middle of a commercial flight. I sit there trembling, unable to move, unable to think, my mind completely blank except for one repeating thought: What the h3ll just happened? Chapter 4 The Devil's Offer EMBER’S POV This morning I was a married omega trying to save her marriage with expensive lingerie. Now I’m a soon-to-be-divorced omega who fu<ked the Lycan King in an airplane bathroom and let him finger me to 0rgasm while my husband was on the phone. My life has become a complete disaster. The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Anchorage. Local time is 7:43 PM and the current temperature is minus twelve degrees.” Anchorage. Home. The seatbelt sign dings off and passengers spring into action. I have no luggage, no coat, no plan. Just the clothes on my back and about two hundred dollars in my bank account. I’ll find a cheap hotel, I decide. One of those budget places near the airport. I’ll figure out my next steps in the morning. Call my parents and try to explain why their daughter’s arranged marriage just imploded on Christmas Eve. Yeah. That’ll be a fun conversation. I stand on shaky legs, my body still feeling the aftermath of everything Knox did to me. His c^m has dried uncomfortably in my skirt and I’m painfully aware that I’m still not wearing underwear because the Lycan King pocketed my torn panties like some kind of pervert. I step into the aisle and immediately freeze. Knox is suddenly there, blocking my path, his blue eyes locked onto mine with that same intensity that makes my heart race. “You’re coming with me.” I blink up at him. “I appreciate what happened back there, I do. But you’re still basically a stranger and I barely know you beyond the fact that you’re the Lycan King and you just—” My face heats. “Well. You know.” “Fu<ked you senseless in an airplane bathroom?” His lips curve slightly. “Yes, I’m aware.” “Right. That.” I clear my throat. “Look, it was
 good. Really good. But it was just s3x. We don’t owe each other anything.” “I disagree.” “You can disagree all you want, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” I try to move past him but he doesn’t budge. “Excuse me.” “Where exactly are you planning to go?” “Hotel. There’s a Holiday Inn near the airport.” “With what money?” I lift my chin. “I have enough.” “For how long?” He tilts his head, studying me. “One night? Two? What happens when that runs out?” “I’ll figure it out. People do it all the time.” “And what happens when Gale tracks your credit card and shows up at your door?” My stomach drops. I hadn’t thought of that. Of course he’ll track my card. He has access to all our accounts. Knox sees the realization on my face. “You have two choices, Ember. Walk out of here with me willingly, or I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. Either way, you’re coming with me.” “You wouldn’t dare.” But even as I say it, I can see in his eyes that he absolutely would. “That’s kidnapping.” “It’s protection.” His voice softens slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ember. But I’m also not going to let you wander around Anchorage alone, broke, with your unhinged husband hunting you down.” The scary part is, I believe him. This man I barely know, this Lycan King who just finger-fu<ked me while my husband was on the phone, actually seems concerned about my safety. Maybe I’ve completely lost my mind, but I’m considering it. “Why?” I ask quietly. “Why do you care what happens to me?” Something flickers across his face, there and gone too fast for me to read. “Let’s just say I’ve always been intrigued by Gale’s little omega wife. The way you smiled at those boring pack events while he ignored you. The way you’d bring us coffee during meetings and pretend you didn’t notice when he looked right through you.” His hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “You deserved better than him. And I have a proposition that might interest you. Especially if you’re interested in making Gale Crawford’s life a living h3ll.” That gets my attention. “You’re bribing me with revenge?” “I’m offering you options.” His lips curve into a smile that’s pure sin. “The question is whether you’re brave enough to take them.” I should walk away. Should tell him to leave me alone and handle my problems myself like an adult. But the truth is, I’m terrified. I have no real plan, barely any resources, and Gale is probably already on his way here. I’m trying to act tough, trying to stand tall, but I’m a house cat trying to roar like a wolf. And the idea of making Gale suffer the way he made me suffer? That sounds really, really good. “If this proposition turns out to be something creepy,” I say, meeting his eyes with more bravery than I feel, “I’m kneeing you in the balls and stealing your car.” His laugh is genuine, surprised. “Fair enough.” He extends his hand. After a long moment’s hesitation, I take it. His fingers close around mine, warm and possessive, and he pulls me into the aisle. My heart is pounding. I’m literally leaving with the Lycan King. The most powerful, most dangerous alpha in North America. What am I doing? We move through the jetway and into the terminal. Knox’s hand settles on the small of my back, and even through my shirt I can feel the heat of his palm burning into my skin. “So where exactly are you taking me?” I ask, trying to sound casual and failing. “Please tell me it’s not some creepy murder cabin in the woods.” “I don’t do cabins. Too rustic.” There’s amusement in his voice. “I’m taking you somewhere you’ll be safe, fed, and properly taken care of.” “Properly taken care of.” I swallow hard. “That’s ominously vague.” Knox glances down at me, and the heat in his eyes makes my stomach flip. “Would you prefer I be specific? I’m taking you somewhere I can strip you out of that c^m-stained skirt, put you in a hot bath, feed you something that isn’t airplane food, and then fu<k you in an actual bed like you deserve.” My face flames. “You really have no filter, do you?” “None whatsoever.” He sounds completely unbothered. “Life’s too short for false modesty.” We round a corner and suddenly chaos erupts ahead of us. Camera flashes everywhere. Shouting. Reporters swarming like vultures sensing bl00d. And in the middle of baggage claim, looking absolutely unhinged— “EMBER! EMBER, I KNOW YOU’RE HERE!” Gale. He’s actually here. He flew here ahead of me somehow and is now having a complete public meltdown. His suit is wrinkled, his tie gone, his hair sticking up in every direction like he’s been tearing at it. Logan Reeves stands behind him looking deeply uncomfortable while two other pack members try unsuccessfully to calm him down. “We need to talk! Please! I love you! Don’t do this!” Several reporters are filming everything, phones out, clearly sensing a major scandal brewing. Oh my Goddess. This is going to be everywhere by tomorrow morning. Every pack in North America will see this. Knox’s hand tightens protectively on my back. “This way.” He steers me toward a corridor marked “Private Access” and pushes through the door like he owns the place. Maybe he does. The Lycan King probably has access to everything. We emerge into a quiet hallway and I can still hear Gale’s voice echoing behind us, muffled but desperate. “EMBER! Please! I can change! I’ll be better! I’ll go to therapy!” “He sounds stable,” Knox comments dryly. “He’s probably been drinking with Logan.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “They do that when they’re stressed.” Knox’s eyes sharpen with interest but he doesn’t push. “Come on.” We reach another door and he pushes it open, revealing a private parking area. A sleek black BMW M8 is waiting, engine purring, driver standing at attention beside it. “Mr. Volkov.” The driver opens the back door immediately. Knox guides me toward the car but I stop, my feet refusing to move forward. This is it. Once I get in that car, there’s no going back. I’m making a choice to trust a man I barely know, a man whose reputation includes making alphas disappear when they cross him. But what’s my alternative? Go back out there where Gale is having a meltdown? Find a cheap hotel where he’ll track me down within hours? Who knows what he’d do when groveling doesn’t work? “I need to know what this proposition is,” I say, looking up at Knox. “Before I get in that car with you.” Knox turns to face me fully. The parking garage lighting casts shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more dangerous than usual. More devastating too, in a way that makes my breath catch despite everything. His hand comes up again, fingers gentle as they tilt my chin up. “Not here. But I promise you, Ember—what I’m offering will give you everything you need. Safety. Protection. Resources. And the chance to make Gale Crawford wish he’d never been born.” My pulse races. “That’s still vague.” “Get in the car and I’ll explain everything.” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “Trust me.” “I don’t know you well enough to trust you.” “No,” he agrees. “But you know Gale. And you know what’s waiting for you if you walk away from me right now.” His eyes hold mine. “So what’s it going to be, Ember? Take a chance on the devil you don’t know, or go back to the h3ll you’re trying to escape?” I look at the car. At the open door. At the promise of something different, something that might actually give me the power to fight back. Then I look back toward the terminal where my husband is probably still screaming my name for cameras. The choice suddenly seems very simple. I slide into the back seat. Knox follows immediately, the door closing with an expensive thunk, sealing us into leather-scented darkness. The car pulls away smoothly, leaving the airport—and Gale’s public breakdown—behind us. My heart won’t stop racing. I’m in a car with the Lycan King. Alone. After having s3x with him. This is insane. “So,” I say, my voice coming out smaller than I’d like as city lights stream past the windows. “What’s this proposition?” Knox settles back against the seat, looking completely at ease, like he didn’t just orchestrate my escape from a very public scene. In the dim light, his eyes catch the passing streetlamps, turning them almost silver. When he smiles, it’s pure wickedness. “How would you feel about being my fake girlfriend for the next week?”

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My husband, the Vampire King, drained me of my blood every night for three years to keep my stepsister beautiful. Tonight, he handed me divorce papers and told me I should be grateful he let me live this long. I signed them with fingers so anemic they couldn't grip the pen without shaking. He didn't know my blood was the only thing keeping his kingdom from collapsing — and I was down to my last pint. Lena Voss. That is the name I wrote on the death certificate they called a divorce agreement. The pen slipped. A drop of my blood — thin, pale, barely red anymore — fell onto the paper. It sank into the parchment and glowed for a half-second before disappearing. Caspian didn't notice. He never noticed anything about me. "Faster, Lena," he said. He stood by the window of his penthouse office, sixty floors above the city. The lights of the skyline reflected in his black eyes. He didn't look at me. He looked at his phone. "Vivienne's coronation is in two hours. I need you gone before the cameras arrive." Vivienne. My stepsister. The woman who would replace me as Queen of the Valdric Vampire Court. "I have a question," I said. My voice sounded like paper tearing. "About the settlement." "There is no settlement," Caspian said. He typed something on his phone. "You brought nothing into this marriage. You leave with nothing." That was a lie. I brought my blood. In the vampire world, human blood is currency. But my blood — the blood of a Solaris bloodline, the last living descendant of the Sun Priests — was not just currency. It was a weapon. One drop could heal a dying vampire. A vial could power a ward that protected an entire city. Caspian's kingdom had been shielded for three years by wards painted in my blood. His soldiers drank diluted vials of it before battle and became unstoppable. His court thrived because every month, I was strapped to a medical chair in the basement and drained until I passed out. But the blood was credited to Vivienne. She told Caspian she was the Solaris heir. She wore the sun-shaped birthmark — tattooed onto her hip by a black-market body artist in Prague. She sat in the Donor Throne during ceremonies while I lay in the basement, needles in my arms, watching my life pour into plastic bags. "Sign the last page," Caspian ordered. I flipped to it. My vision blurred. The words swam. *The Donor hereby relinquishes all claims to blood-debt, marital protection, and sanctuary within the Valdric Court.* Blood-debt. That was the vampire law that said if someone gave blood to save a vampire's life, that vampire owed them an eternal debt. Caspian owed me thousands of debts. Every soldier I had healed. Every ward I had powered. This paper erased all of it. "If I sign this," I whispered, "I have no protection. Any vampire can hunt me." "Then stay indoors," Caspian said. He finally looked at me. His eyes swept over my body — the bruised arms, the sunken cheeks, the medical port still implanted in my neck. He saw it all. He felt nothing. "You were a useful vessel, Lena," he said. "But Vivienne is the real Solaris. She always was. You were just... storage." Storage. Three years of marriage. Three years of bleeding. Three years of watching him kiss my stepsister at galas while I recovered in a locked room. And I was storage. I signed the paper. Caspian took it without touching my fingers. He walked to the door. "A car will take you to the border," he said. "Don't come back." He paused. For one moment, his hand tightened on the doorframe. His nostrils flared. "Why do you always smell like that?" he muttered, almost to himself. "Like sunlight. It's... distracting." Then he left. He didn't know that the smell of sunlight was the Solaris bond — the sacred scent a vampire could only detect from their true Fated Mate. He had been smelling me for three years and blaming it on the air freshener. I pressed my hand against the medical port in my neck. It pulsed with a dull, infected ache. They had taken blood this morning. Two liters. For Vivienne's "coronation glow." I had maybe three liters left in my body. A human needs at least four to survive. I stood up. The room tilted. I grabbed the desk. On Caspian's screen, a live feed showed the ballroom downstairs. Vivienne stood on a stage in a golden dress, waving at a crowd of vampires. She was radiant. She was glowing — literally glowing with stolen Solaris light. My light. I turned away from the screen and walked toward the service elevator. Tonight, Vivienne would become Queen. And tonight, the wards protecting the kingdom would begin to die — because the real Solaris was leaving, and she was almost out of blood.

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Chapitre 1 Mon mari est gay ? PDV D’EMBER — Pauvre Ember. Huit ans, et son mari la regarde Ă  peine. C’est quoi cette Omega incapable de garder l’attention de sa propre Ăąme sƓur ? Les chuchotements cruels de la meute me vrillaient la tĂȘte pendant que je serrais des sacs de shopping hors de prix, les mains tremblantes. À l’intĂ©rieur, il y avait un ensemble de lingerie rouge, la moitiĂ© de mes Ă©conomies parties dans une tentative dĂ©sespĂ©rĂ©e et pathĂ©tique de rallumer l’étincelle entre mon mari et moi. C’était censĂ© ĂȘtre une pĂ©riode de miracles. Quand l’amour triomphe et que les choses brisĂ©es se recollent. Mon Ăąme sƓur, Gale, avait mĂȘme insistĂ© pour que je passe la journĂ©e au spa. — DĂ©tends-toi, bĂ©bĂ©. Fais-toi les ongles. Je te veux parfaite pour le gala de demain. Ce seul mot — bĂ©bĂ© — m’avait fait bondir le cƓur d’un espoir. Peut-ĂȘtre que les choses allaient enfin changer. Peut-ĂȘtre que ce soir, il me voudrait Ă  nouveau. Je me suis garĂ©e dans notre allĂ©e, les doigts crispĂ©s sur le volant au point d’en blanchir les jointures. Ce soir devait marcher. Il le fallait. Mais au moment oĂč j’ai ouvert la porte d’entrĂ©e, j’ai su que quelque chose clochait horriblement. L’odeur m’a frappĂ©e aussitĂŽt. Brute, musquĂ©e, indĂ©niablement sexuelle. Ma louve, Sapphire, s’est hĂ©rissĂ©e, m’avertissant de faire demi-tour et de partir. Mais j’ai continuĂ© d’avancer comme une idiote, suivant les gĂ©missements sourds, les rires essoufflĂ©s, le rythme sans Ă©quivoque de corps qui se mouvaient ensemble. Ça venait du salon. GĂ©missements. Rires. De la chair qui claquait contre la chair. J’ai tournĂ© au coin et j’ai cessĂ© de respirer. Gale Ă©tait Ă  genoux, le visage enfoui entre les jambes de Logan Reeves. Logan, son soi-disant associĂ©, qui venait deux fois par semaine pour des sĂ©ances de stratĂ©gie nocturnes. Il y avait aussi un homme plus jeune que je n’avais jamais vu, pliĂ© sur l’accoudoir du canapĂ© pendant qu’un autre inconnu le baisait par derriĂšre. Une vraie partouze. Que des hommes. Tous nus, en sueur, en train de rire. Mon cerveau refusait d’encaisser ce que je voyais. Gale n’arrĂȘtait pas de dire Ă  quel point l’homosexualitĂ© Ă©tait dĂ©goĂ»tante, contre nature, et comme les traditions de la meute interdisaient ce genre de comportement. Il avait humiliĂ© des gens pour ça en public. Et maintenant, il faisait ça. Mais le choc de le voir avec des hommes n’était mĂȘme pas le pire. — DĂ©esse, Gale, gĂ©mit Logan, les doigts emmĂȘlĂ©s dans les cheveux de mon mari. Tu es incroyable. Pas Ă©tonnant que tu gardes cette Omega frigide juste pour sauver les apparences. Le plus jeune Ă©clata d’un rire essoufflĂ©. — Est-ce qu’elle sait seulement que son mari Alpha n’a jamais Ă©tĂ© intĂ©ressĂ© par les femmes ? — Bien sĂ»r que non, dit Gale en se reculant pour s’essuyer la bouche. Sa voix Ă©tait dĂ©contractĂ©e, amusĂ©e, comme s’ils parlaient de la pluie et du beau temps. — Elle est trop conne pour s’en rendre compte. Trop dĂ©sespĂ©rĂ©e et pathĂ©tique pour voir ce qu’elle a juste sous le nez. Puis il a fait quelque chose qui a pulvĂ©risĂ© mon monde. Il a imitĂ© ma voix, aiguĂ« et geignarde. — Gale, s’il te plaĂźt, touche-moi. Gale, tu ne me veux pas ? Gale, qu’est-ce que je fais de travers ? Ils ont tous Ă©clatĂ© d’un rire cruel qui a rĂ©sonnĂ© contre les murs. Mes mains se sont engourdies. Les sacs ont glissĂ© de mes doigts et ont heurtĂ© le marbre dans un fracas sourd. De la lingerie rouge s’est rĂ©pandue sur le carrelage blanc. Quatre tĂȘtes se sont tournĂ©es vers moi d’un coup. Le visage de Gale est devenu livide, puis Ă©carlate. — Ember, c’est pas ce que tu crois— Je courais dĂ©jĂ . Dans le couloir, par la porte d’entrĂ©e, jusque dans ma voiture. Mes mains tremblaient si fort que j’avais du mal Ă  mettre la clĂ© dans le contact. Mon tĂ©lĂ©phone s’est mis Ă  vibrer aussitĂŽt. Des textos arrivaient en rafale. Gale : C’était pas ce que tu as vu. Gale : Reviens qu’on en parle. Gale : Tu fais du drame. Puis les menaces ont commencĂ©. Gale : Si tu racontes Ă  qui que ce soit ce que tu as vu, je te dĂ©truirai. Le traitĂ© exige notre mariage. Tu me ruines, tu ruines les deux meutes. RĂ©flĂ©chis Ă  ça, Ember. Les larmes me brouillaient la vue pendant que je conduisais. Je ne savais pas oĂč j’allais jusqu’à apercevoir le panneau de l’aĂ©roport et tourner machinalement. Il fallait que je parte. Que je rentre en Alaska, chez mes parents. Je demanderais le divorce dĂšs l’atterrissage. Je ne pouvais pas rester mariĂ©e avec lui. Je ne pouvais pas. Je suis arrivĂ©e Ă  l’aĂ©roport sous le choc, mon corps en pilote automatique pendant que mon cerveau essayait de digĂ©rer ce que j’avais vu. Au comptoir, j’ai sorti ma carte de crĂ©dit avec des mains tremblantes. — Un billet en premiĂšre classe pour l’Alaska, au plus vite, ai-je dit Ă  l’employĂ©e, d’une voix Ă  peine audible. Elle a traitĂ© le paiement rapidement. Ça a englouti presque tout l’argent auquel j’avais accĂšs sur mon compte perso, mais je m’en fichais. Il me fallait juste rentrer. Mon tĂ©lĂ©phone vibrait sans cesse. J’ai baissĂ© les yeux et vu les messages dĂ©filer. Les textos de Gale Ă©taient passĂ©s des excuses aux menaces puis Ă  la manipulation. Gale : S’il te plaĂźt, bĂ©bĂ©, laisse-moi t’expliquer. Gale : Tu dramatises. C’était juste pour Ă©vacuer le stress. Gale : Si tu me quittes, tu n’auras plus rien. RIEN. Gale : Tes parents te renieront pour avoir brisĂ© le traitĂ©. Gale : Rentre tout de suite ou je ferai en sorte que toutes les meutes sachent Ă  quel point tu es une ratĂ©e. J’ai bloquĂ© son numĂ©ro avec des doigts tremblants et j’ai enfoui le tĂ©lĂ©phone au fond de mon sac. Je suis montĂ©e dans l’avion on ne sait comment et j’ai trouvĂ© mon siĂšge. L’engourdissement a commencĂ© Ă  se dissiper, remplacĂ© par une douleur si violente que je n’arrivais plus Ă  respirer. Je lui avais donnĂ© huit ans. Deux ans de relation oĂč il m’avait courtisĂ©e pour convaincre son pĂšre que j’étais le bon choix — soumise, obĂ©issante, issue d’une bonne famille. Le mariage arrangĂ© parfait. Six ans de mariage oĂč j’avais tout essayĂ© pour lui plaire, pour ĂȘtre l’épouse Omega parfaite, pour lui donner envie de moi. Et tout Ă©tait un mensonge. Bien. Peut-ĂȘtre que maintenant tu arrĂȘteras de dĂ©fendre le salaud qui te frappe, grogna Sapphire avec venin. Ma louve le dĂ©testait depuis le dĂ©but. Mais moi, je l’aimais. Ou je le pensais. J’étais l’Omega inutile incapable mĂȘme de garder l’intĂ©rĂȘt de son mari. L’échec qui poussait son Ăąme sƓur dans les bras d’autres hommes. Non, mĂȘme pas. Il ne m’avait jamais voulue. Je me suis traĂźnĂ©e jusqu’aux toilettes et je m’y suis enfermĂ©e. Les sanglots sont sortis de tout au fond de ma poitrine, laids, bruts, incontrĂŽlables. J’ai plaquĂ© les mains sur ma bouche pour rester silencieuse, mais le chagrin Ă©tait trop grand. Ça faisait des mois que je remettais tout en question chez moi. Trop, ou pas assez ? Et quand j’insistais trop pour obtenir des rĂ©ponses, de l’affection, n’importe quoi, ses mains se transformaient en poings. Les bleus, toujours cachĂ©s lĂ  oĂč personne ne pouvait les voir. Tous ces voyages d’affaires. Toutes ces nuits tard au bureau. Toutes ces fois oĂč il disait ĂȘtre trop fatiguĂ© ou trop stressĂ©. Il Ă©tait avec eux. Avec ces hommes. En train de rire de Ă  quel point j’étais pathĂ©tique Ă  croire ses mensonges. Quelqu’un a frappĂ© Ă  la porte si fort qu’elle en a tremblĂ©. — OccupĂ© ! ai-je suffoquĂ©. Les coups ont continuĂ©, plus forts, plus insistants. — J’ai dit que c’était occupĂ© ! Allez-vous-en ! La porte s’est quand mĂȘme ouverte. — Tu sais que ce sont les toilettes des hommes, hein ? La voix Ă©tait grave et rĂąpeuse, elle vibrait dans le minuscule espace et a tranchĂ© net dans ma spirale de dĂ©tresse. J’ai levĂ© les yeux, la vue brouillĂ©e de larmes, et je me suis figĂ©e. C’était l’homme le plus beau que j’aie jamais vu. Assez grand pour devoir se baisser sous l’embrasure, avec des Ă©paules si larges qu’il remplissait tout le cadre. Des cheveux sombres en dĂ©sordre comme s’il y avait passĂ© les mains, une mĂąchoire acĂ©rĂ©e, et des yeux si bleus qu’ils semblaient presque irrĂ©els. Il y avait chez lui quelque chose de dangereux, de prĂ©dateur, qui fit se redresser ma louve malgrĂ© mon Ă©tat brisĂ©. — DĂ©solĂ©e, je n’avais pas vu
 J’ai essayĂ© de me faufiler, mais les toilettes Ă©taient trop petites et lui trop grand, et soudain nous Ă©tions assez proches pour que je sente la chaleur qui Ă©manait de son corps. Il m’attrapa l’avant-bras doucement mais fermement, m’arrĂȘtant net. Ce contact envoya une dĂ©charge Ă©lectrique le long de ma peau qui me fit haleter. — Pourquoi tu pleures ? Sa voix Ă©tait devenue froide et impĂ©rieuse, d’une façon qui fit se nouer quelque chose trĂšs bas dans mon ventre. Je n’arrivais pas Ă  parler. Ses yeux bleus plantĂ©s dans les miens comme s’il voyait jusqu’au fond de mon Ăąme, et il y avait dans ce regard une chaleur qui me coupa le souffle. Je connaissais cet homme de quelque part. J’avais dĂ©jĂ  vu son visage, peut-ĂȘtre dans des bulletins de meute ou des rapports de territoire, mais je n’arrivais pas Ă  le replacer Ă  travers le brouillard du chagrin. Son odeur me droguait : du pin, l’hiver, et quelque chose de sauvage qui me faisait tourner la tĂȘte. — Ça ne te regarde pas, chuchotai-je en essayant de dĂ©gager mon bras. — S’il te plaĂźt, laisse-moi partir. Sa prise se resserra un peu, possessive d’une maniĂšre qui aurait dĂ» me faire peur, mais non. — Je crois que si, ça me regarde. J’aime pas voir une belle femme pleurer. Belle. Le mot m’a percutĂ©e. C’était quand, la derniĂšre fois que quelqu’un m’avait appelĂ©e belle ? La derniĂšre fois que quelqu’un m’avait regardĂ©e comme si j’avais de la valeur au lieu d’ĂȘtre un poids dĂ©cevant ? De nouvelles larmes ont coulĂ© sur mes joues avant que je puisse les retenir. — Tu veux savoir pourquoi je pleure ? TrĂšs bien ! Les mots sont sortis acides, tranchants. — Je viens de surprendre mon mari en pleine partouze avec ses associĂ©s. Dans notre salon. Sur notre canapĂ©. Il Ă©tait Ă  genoux en train d’en satisfaire un autre pendant qu’ils se marraient tous sur Ă  quel point je suis dĂ©sespĂ©rĂ©e. Son expression s’est assombrie aussitĂŽt. Quelque chose de fĂ©roce et de violent a traversĂ© ses yeux bleu glace, apparu et disparu si vite que j’ai failli le rater. Puis son regard est devenu brĂ»lant, chauffĂ© d’une maniĂšre qui m’a fait rougir malgrĂ© tout. — Ton mari est un idiot, dit-il, sa voix descendant d’un ton, plus rauque. Le son m’a fait frissonner de la nuque jusqu’aux reins. — Quel genre de type t’aurait et choisirait quelqu’un d’autre ? Ses mots Ă©taient si inattendus, si sincĂšres, que quelque chose en moi s’est rĂ©chauffĂ©. Cet inconnu me regardait avec plus de dĂ©sir et d’estime que mon propre mari ne l’avait fait en des mois de mariage. Plus que Gale ne l’avait fait en des annĂ©es, si j’étais honnĂȘte avec moi-mĂȘme. Ma voix s’est brisĂ©e. — J’ai tellement essayĂ© d’ĂȘtre ce qu’il voulait. J’ai dĂ©tournĂ© les yeux, incapable de soutenir son regard en avouant ça Ă  un Ă©tranger. — Et pendant tout ce temps, il
 se moquait de moi. Sa mĂąchoire s’est contractĂ©e, un muscle battant lĂ . — Il n’y a rien qui cloche chez toi. Le problĂšme, c’est lui. — T’en sais rien, murmurai-je. — J’en sais assez d’oĂč je suis. Il s’est rapprochĂ©, me repoussant contre le petit lavabo. Sa main est montĂ©e pour me prendre le visage, son pouce essuyant mes larmes avec une douceur surprenante. — Tu trembles. — Je suis en colĂšre, chuchotai-je, mais c’est sorti dans un souffle parce que son toucher me faisait des choses que je ne comprenais pas. J’ai avalĂ© avec peine. — Je ne sais pas quoi en faire. — Qu’est-ce que tu veux faire ? Qu’est-ce que je voulais ? Je voulais arrĂȘter de me sentir comme une moins que rien . Je voulais cesser d’ĂȘtre l’Omega pathĂ©tique que tout le monde plaint. Je voulais me sentir dĂ©sirĂ©e au lieu d’ĂȘtre jetĂ©e. Je voulais que quelqu’un me regarde comme cet homme me regardait Ă  cet instant, comme si j’étais prĂ©cieuse, dĂ©sirable, et que j’en valais la peine. J’étais si fatiguĂ©e d’ĂȘtre sage. De suivre toutes les rĂšgles pendant que les autres les brisaient. D’essayer d’ĂȘtre l’épouse parfaite pendant que mon mari me ridiculisait. Si Gale pouvait s’amuser, pourquoi pas moi ? — Si tu veux vraiment jouer les gentlemen maintenant et sauver la demoiselle en dĂ©tresse
 Je marquai une pause, en voyant ses yeux s’assombrir encore, ses pupilles se dilater. — Alors tu devrais me pencher ici mĂȘme et me prendre contre ce mur. Ses pupilles sont devenues complĂštement noires. Un son grave et rugueux s'est Ă©chappĂ© de lui — entre un grognement et un gĂ©missement — qui m’a fait serrer les cuisses. Oui, je viens de lui demander de me prendre. Chapitre 2 Le grand mĂ©chant Lycan Point de vue d’Ember Les mots flottent entre nous, et je n’arrive pas Ă  croire que je viens de dire ça. Mais je ne peux pas nier l’intensitĂ© de ce que je ressens pour cet homme, mĂȘme au cƓur de ma dĂ©tresse. Sapphire devient complĂštement folle en moi. Elle veut sa proximitĂ©, son attention, la chaleur de sa prĂ©sence. Et cela n’a aucun sens. Nous ne le connaissons mĂȘme pas. Il arque un sourcil, une lueur sombre et amusĂ©e traversant son visage saisissant. — C’est vraiment ce que tu veux ? Sa voix s’abaisse, plus grave, chaque mot faisant naĂźtre un frisson le long de ma peau. Je hoche la tĂȘte. Une vague de chaleur m’envahit. C’est insensĂ©. Mais j’en ai besoin. De lui. Je veux me sentir dĂ©sirĂ©e au lieu d’ĂȘtre rejetĂ©e. Je veux oublier la voix moqueuse de Gale, le rire cruel de Logan, l’image de mon mari avec quelqu’un d’autre. Si Gale peut tourner la page aussi facilement, alors pourquoi pas moi ? Mais aussi vite que l’instant s’embrase, il s’éteint lorsqu’il recule d’un pas. Son expression se refroidit. — Aussi tentant que cela puisse ĂȘtre, j’ai d’autres affaires Ă  rĂ©gler. Quoi ? Il me repousse ? Une douleur cuisante me traverse la poitrine. Bien sĂ»r. MĂȘme un inconnu ne veut pas de moi. Les paroles de Gale reviennent aussitĂŽt me hanter. Non. Non. Avant mĂȘme de rĂ©flĂ©chir, j’attrape son bras alors qu’il s’éloigne. Puis je l’embrasse. Ses lĂšvres sont douces, bien plus que je ne l’aurais imaginĂ©. Pendant une seconde, il reste immobile. La panique me transperce. Puis quelque chose change. Il rĂ©pond Ă  mon baiser. L’intensitĂ© de sa rĂ©action me coupe le souffle. Le monde autour de nous disparaĂźt. Je m’accroche Ă  lui comme si ce moment pouvait effacer toute la douleur que je porte depuis des mois. Ses bras m’entourent. Sa prĂ©sence est Ă©crasante. Protectrice. Dangereuse. Je devrais reculer. Je devrais arrĂȘter. Mais je n’en ai aucune envie. Tout ce que je veux, c’est oublier. Oublier Gale. Oublier mon humiliation. Oublier ce mariage qui s’effondre. — Quels jolis sons, murmure-t-il contre ma peau. Mon cƓur s’emballe. Je n’arrive plus Ă  penser clairement. Chaque seconde me rapproche davantage du bord du prĂ©cipice. — Je veux t’entendre le dire. Sa voix est calme. ContrĂŽlĂ©e. Et pourtant elle me bouleverse complĂštement. Je ferme les yeux. Je suis prĂȘte Ă  tout laisser derriĂšre moi. À tout oublier. Puis il se penche vers mon oreille. — Jamais je n’aurais cru te voir aussi tĂ©mĂ©raire, Ember. Je me fige. Attends. Mon prĂ©nom ? Comment connaĂźt-il mon prĂ©nom ? Le brouillard dans mon esprit se dissipe brutalement. Je recule lĂ©gĂšrement et l’observe vraiment pour la premiĂšre fois. Cette silhouette. Cette voix. Ce regard. Tout me paraĂźt soudain familier. — Comment... comment tu connais mon prĂ©nom ? L’inconnu esquisse un sourire. Un sourire qui me glace aussitĂŽt. — Ne me dis pas que tu ne reconnais pas ton roi Lycan, ma douce Ember. Ses yeux bleus brillent d’une lueur que j’ai dĂ©jĂ  vue. Et la vĂ©ritĂ© me frappe de plein fouet. Non. Oh, DĂ©esse. Non. Knox Volkov. Le roi Lycan. L’homme le plus puissant et le plus redoutĂ© du monde surnaturel. Je viens de l’embrasser. La honte m’écrase instantanĂ©ment. C’est le supĂ©rieur de Gale. L’autoritĂ© suprĂȘme de toutes les meutes d’AmĂ©rique du Nord. Si quelqu’un apprenait ce qui vient de se passer, ma rĂ©putation serait dĂ©truite. Je tente de prendre mes distances. Mais Knox ne recule pas. Au contraire. — Ne t’arrĂȘte pas maintenant, dit-il avec un sourire dangereux. — Non... non... c’était une erreur. Je secoue la tĂȘte. — Une Ă©norme erreur. Son expression s’assombrit aussitĂŽt. L’or remplace momentanĂ©ment le bleu de ses yeux. Son loup affleure. Mon courage s’évapore. — Il est trop tard pour ça, grogne Knox. Mon cƓur cogne dans ma poitrine. Je rĂ©alise alors Ă  quel point la situation m’échappe. — Attends... Mais il ne me laisse pas terminer. Il me fait pivoter face au miroir. Mes mains s’agrippent au lavabo pour retrouver un semblant d’équilibre. — Regarde-toi. Sa voix est basse. ImpĂ©rieuse. Mes yeux croisent mon reflet. Mes joues sont rouges. Mes cheveux en bataille. Mon regard troublĂ©. Je ne reconnais presque plus la femme qui me fixe dans le miroir. — C’est ta derniĂšre chance de partir. Ses mains se referment sur mes hanches. — RĂ©flĂ©chis bien. Je devrais dire non. Je devrais partir. Penser aux consĂ©quences. Mais je suis incapable de bouger. Knox laisse Ă©chapper un grondement satisfait. La tension entre nous devient presque insupportable. Puis les minutes suivantes se dissolvent dans un tourbillon de sensations, d’émotions contradictoires et de dĂ©cisions irrĂ©flĂ©chies. Pour la premiĂšre fois depuis longtemps, quelqu’un me regarde comme si j’étais importante. Comme si j’avais de la valeur. Comme si j’existais encore. Puis sa voix rĂ©sonne prĂšs de mon oreille. — C’est quand la derniĂšre fois que quelqu’un t’a vraiment rendue heureuse ? Je reste silencieuse. Parce que je ne connais mĂȘme plus la rĂ©ponse. — Je... je ne m’en souviens pas. Quelque chose change dans son regard. La colĂšre. Une colĂšre froide. ContrĂŽlĂ©e. — Tu ne t’en souviens pas ? Je secoue lĂ©gĂšrement la tĂȘte. — Gale n’a jamais vraiment essayĂ©. Un silence lourd s’installe. Puis Knox me regarde comme s’il venait de comprendre quelque chose. Comme s’il dĂ©couvrait l’étendue des blessures invisibles que je porte depuis des annĂ©es. Mon souffle devient irrĂ©gulier. Je ne sais plus quoi penser. Je ne sais plus quoi ressentir. Je sais seulement que rien ne se dĂ©roule comme prĂ©vu. Et lorsque quelqu’un frappe soudainement Ă  la porte des toilettes : — Ici l’agent de bord ! Vous devez quitter les toilettes immĂ©diatement ! Mon cƓur manque un battement. Merde. Chapitre 3 Orgasme Ă  10 000 mĂštres Point de vue d’Ember Le roi Knox ne semble pas perturbĂ© par les coups rĂ©pĂ©tĂ©s de l’hĂŽtesse contre la porte des toilettes. Mon cƓur, lui, bat Ă  tout rompre. Je suis encore sous le choc de ce qui vient de se passer. Tout paraĂźt irrĂ©el. Lorsque Knox rĂ©duit la distance entre nous, son regard dorĂ© reste fixĂ© sur moi avec une intensitĂ© troublante. Puis il dĂ©pose un bref baiser sur mes lĂšvres avant de s’éloigner lĂ©gĂšrement. Pendant quelques secondes, nous restons immobiles, tentant de retrouver notre souffle. L’hĂŽtesse frappe de nouveau, plus insistante cette fois. Knox se redresse calmement, rajuste sa tenue et retrouve immĂ©diatement son assurance habituelle. On dirait presque qu’il n’a rien vĂ©cu d’exceptionnel. Moi, en revanche, je me sens complĂštement dĂ©boussolĂ©e. Il m’aide Ă  remettre de l’ordre dans ma tenue avec une douceur inattendue. — Tu devrais retourner Ă  ta place, dit-il simplement. Mon visage brĂ»le. Cet homme n’a absolument aucune gĂȘne. Knox ouvre la porte. L’hĂŽtesse dĂ©couvre aussitĂŽt qui il est. Ses yeux s’écarquillent. Tout le monde connaĂźt le visage du Roi Lycan. Sans la moindre Ă©motion apparente, Knox lui remet quelques billets en guise de dĂ©dommagement pour le dĂ©rangement. Puis il retourne tranquillement Ă  son siĂšge sans mĂȘme se retourner. Je reste figĂ©e quelques secondes. Qu’est-ce que je viens de faire ? Je viens de passer un moment avec l’homme le plus puissant d’AmĂ©rique du Nord. Le Roi Lycan. Le supĂ©rieur de Gale. L’homme capable de faire basculer le destin de meutes entiĂšres d’un simple ordre. Je rejoins finalement ma place sur des jambes tremblantes. Le passager du rang 3B affiche un sourire Ă©trange, comme s’il se doutait de quelque chose. L’hĂŽtesse Ă©vite soigneusement mon regard. Je m’effondre dans mon siĂšge. À travers l’allĂ©e, Knox consulte son tĂ©lĂ©phone avec un calme dĂ©concertant. Comment peut-il agir comme si de rien n’était ? Moi, je suis en train de remettre toute ma vie en question. Mon tĂ©lĂ©phone vibre. Un numĂ©ro inconnu. J’hĂ©site. Puis je dĂ©croche. — Ember ! Merci, DĂ©esse, tu as rĂ©pondu ! La voix de Gale me raidit immĂ©diatement. Il appelle depuis le tĂ©lĂ©phone de quelqu’un d’autre. Bien sĂ»r. Je l’ai bloquĂ©, alors il a trouvĂ© un autre moyen. — Ne raccroche pas. Écoute-moi juste une seconde... — Je n’ai rien Ă  te dire. Mais il parle dĂ©jĂ  par-dessus moi. — Ce que tu as vu n’est pas ce que tu crois ! Je t’aime, Ember. Je te le jure. Ça ne signifiait rien... Je ferme les yeux. Toujours les mĂȘmes excuses. Toujours les mĂȘmes mensonges. En arriĂšre-plan, j’entends mĂȘme Logan lui souffler quoi dire. L’audace de ces deux-lĂ  est sidĂ©rante. — Tu m’appelles avec le tĂ©lĂ©phone de Logan ? demandĂ©-je froidement. Un silence. Puis Gale reprend. — BĂ©bĂ©, s’il te plaĂźt... — Ne m’appelle pas comme ça. — Je sais que j’ai fait des erreurs, mais je veux sauver notre mariage. Je laisse Ă©chapper un rire amer. — Ce que tu veux, c’est que je continue Ă  jouer l’épouse parfaite pendant que tu fais ce que tu veux derriĂšre mon dos. — Ce n’est pas vrai ! Puis sa voix change. Elle devient plus froide. Plus calculatrice. — Notre mariage est un traitĂ© entre meutes. Si tu pars, tu risques de provoquer un conflit. Pense aux consĂ©quences. Je serre les dents. — Alors maintenant, tu me menaces ? — Je suis simplement rĂ©aliste. Avant que je puisse rĂ©pondre, une grande main se referme sur mon poignet. Je sursaute. Knox. Quand est-il arrivĂ© ? Je ne l’ai mĂȘme pas vu bouger. Il s’est installĂ© dans le siĂšge libre Ă  cĂŽtĂ© de moi. Ses yeux bleus croisent les miens. Sans un mot, il prend mon tĂ©lĂ©phone. — Qu’est-ce que tu fais ? Il active le haut-parleur. La voix de Gale envahit immĂ©diatement la cabine. — Je sais que je t’ai blessĂ©e, mais rentre Ă  la maison. Je peux arranger les choses... Knox m’observe silencieusement. Puis il se penche lĂ©gĂšrement vers moi. — Tu n’es pas obligĂ©e d’écouter ça. Son ton est calme. Protecteur. Pour une raison que je ne comprends pas, cette simple phrase me touche davantage que toutes les promesses de Gale. — Ember ? insiste Gale. RĂ©ponds-moi ! Je reste silencieuse. — Tu es avec quelqu’un ? Mon regard rencontre celui de Knox. Une lueur amusĂ©e traverse briĂšvement ses yeux. Puis il prend la parole. — Elle t’a parfaitement entendu, Gale. Le silence tombe immĂ©diatement Ă  l'autre bout du fil. — Qui est lĂ  ? demande Gale. Knox ne cille pas. — Les documents de divorce sont dĂ©jĂ  en prĂ©paration par mon Ă©quipe juridique. Je manque de m’étouffer. — Quoi ? — Ils sont complets. TrĂšs complets. La voix de Gale monte d’un cran. — Attends... C’est le roi Knox Volkov ? Son incrĂ©dulitĂ© est presque comique. — Qu’est-ce que ça veut dire ? Ember, qu’est-ce que tu as fait ? Knox garde son calme. — Ce qu’elle a fait, c’est rĂ©aliser qu’elle mĂ©rite mieux. Le silence qui suit est glacial. Puis Gale explose. Menaces. Insultes. Accusations. Knox l’écoute quelques secondes. Puis il coupe simplement l’appel. Le tĂ©lĂ©phone retombe sur mes genoux. Le calme revient.

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The moment my husband looked me in the eyes and said "You were never my wife, Isabella—just a transaction," the entire Moretti family raised their glasses and laughed. I didn't cry. I smiled. Because what no one at that table knew—not my husband, not his father, not the blonde sitting in his lap with my ring on her finger—was that the "disposable bride" they'd used for three years was the one person who could bring their empire to its knees. But that came later. First, the humiliation. "Sign it." Marco Moretti slid the divorce papers across the dining table. Twenty-six members of the most powerful mafia family in New York watched. His mother watched. His father, Don Vittorio, watched from the head of the table with the same cold satisfaction he'd worn the day he'd bought me from my father's debts. Natalia—the blonde, his underboss's daughter, the woman he'd been sleeping with since our wedding night—twisted my ring on her finger and blew me a kiss. Three years. Three years of cooking his meals, washing his blood-stained shirts, standing silent at his side while he built alliances with my face and broke promises with my body. "Sign, Isabella. You get nothing. No money. No protection. No name." Marco lit a cigarette, bored. "You walk out the way you came in. With nothing." My chest burned where something had lived for three years—not love. I'd never been stupid enough to love Marco Moretti. Something worse. Hope. The desperate, pathetic hope that if I was good enough, quiet enough, useful enough, someone in this family would see me as human. I picked up the pen. "I, Isabella Crane, sign willingly." My voice didn't shake. "And I want you to remember that, Marco. That I signed willingly. That you let me walk out alive." He smirked. "Why would I remember that?" I signed the last page and stood. "Because one day you're going to realize what you just set free." I straightened my dress—the only thing I owned that was truly mine. "And by then, it'll be too late." Natalia laughed. "She thinks she's in a movie." I looked at her. At the ring. At the man who'd used me as a human shield at more than one arms deal, who'd let his soldiers corner me in hallways, who'd told me on our wedding night that I should be grateful a Crane got to sleep under a Moretti roof. And I felt the second thing no one knew about me—the thing my dead mother had whispered into my blood before she died—wake up like a match striking in the dark. I turned to leave the house I'd never enter again. Behind me, in a penthouse across Manhattan, a phone rang. And the man who answered it had been waiting three years for this exact moment. He'd been waiting for me to be free.

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