Defying the Lycan King

The Rolls-Royce eased to a stop in front of the beach house. Kira blinked awake and glanced sideways at Derek. His head rested against the leather headrest, eyes closed, the sharp lines of his face relaxed in what might have passed for sleep if not for the tight set of his jaw. The thin cut still marred his forehead, the edges stubbornly refusing to knit together; fresh blood continued to well up along the shallow groove left by the metal clasp of that handbag.

"Stop staring. It’s uncouth." His voice rolled out low and tired, little more than a rumble in the quiet cabin. He did not open his eyes, but the muscle in his jaw flexed once.

Kira did not look away. Instead, she leaned in a fraction closer, her gaze fixed on the angry red line. "I’m not staring. I’m...assessing the damage." A mischievous spark lit her eyes. "For a king, you really don’t have a very good defensive strategy against handbags."

Derek’s eyes snapped open, narrowing with clear irritation. "The woman was a civilian. And pregnant. My usual defensive strategies involve silver and decapitation, neither of which felt particularly appropriate for a roadside bistro."

"Oh, so you do have a heart?" Kira teased, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small, irrepressible smile. "I thought you just had a very expensive stone in your chest that pumped ice water."

He turned his head slowly to face her, expression flat and unamused. "Do not mistake my restraint for kindness. I simply did not want the paperwork involved in explaining to the High Council why I had accidentally launched a pregnant she-wolf through a plate-glass window."

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night," she murmured. Her gaze softened as it lingered on the cut. "But you’re still bleeding. Your so-called superior Lycan healing seems to be taking its sweet time."

Derek scoffed, though he made no move to pull away when she reached out, her fingers hovering just an inch from his face. "It is a scratch. My body is likely prioritising the headache you have given me over the last four hours."

"Liar," Kira shot back, narrowing her eyes at him. "It’s deep because she caught you with the metal clasp. Don’t try to pin this one on me."

For a split second, the coldness in his eyes flickered. He did not snap or growl. He simply looked at her, his breathing hitching almost imperceptibly as the warm, sun-kissed scent of her skin filled the quiet space between them. Looking at him then, he did not look like a monarch. He looked like a man who had endured a very long day.

Then the wall slammed back into place. Derek straightened his neck abruptly, as if catching himself. His gaze hardened and he roughly pushed her hand away. "I am fine. Get out of the car."

Kira let out a soft, incredulous laugh and shook her head as she settled back against her seat. "You’re such a brat. Honestly, I don’t know how Nana has put up with you for twenty-plus years."

His eyes widened in genuine surprise before narrowing into a glare, stunned by her audacious cheekiness.

Kira simply winked at him, reached for the door handle, and added sweetly, "Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be the dutiful wife and clean that wound for you." Without giving him a chance to reply, she stepped out into the fresh air.

Derek remained seated for a moment longer, staring after her in silence. The memory of her fierce, protective stance at the roadside restaurant flashed through his mind, how she had planted herself between him and danger without hesitation. He exhaled sharply, wondering if this was all their usual marriage game, or if she really was the type to throw herself in front of him if the danger was real. Perhaps she was simply trying to earn his trust. Manipulation, most likely.

He shoved the thought aside and climbed out.

Kira’s breath caught in her throat as she rounded the car. She had expected something beautiful, but nothing had prepared her for this. The beach house rose elegantly before her, all warm wood and wide glass windows that reflected the glittering sea. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. The air tasted of salt, laced with the faint sweetness of sun-baked pine and wild jasmine. A delighted laugh bubbled up from her chest and she spread her arms wide, tipped her head back, and spun in a slow, giddy circle, letting the breeze snatch at her hair and whip it across her cheeks.

"Whoa!" she cried out, pure joy colouring her voice. "This place feels heavenly."

Behind her, the passenger door closed with a thud. She opened her eyes to find Derek leaning against the side of the car, ankles crossed, arms folded over his broad chest. He watched her through slightly narrowed eyes, his expression an unreadable mask of intensity.

"Are you truly that happy?" he asked, his tone dry.

She beamed at him, cheeks flushed from the wind and the sudden rush of freedom. "Is there any reason I shouldn’t be?"

He gave a short snort and pushed away from the car just as a middle-aged man in a neat navy-blue uniform hurried down the wide wooden steps from the wraparound patio. A woman in soft linen trousers and a pale blue blouse followed close behind, both wearing warm, welcoming smiles.

"Your Grace." The man offered a respectful bow. "Your Highness."

"Welcome to Snow Crest, Your Grace, Your Highness," the woman added, her voice bright with genuine warmth.

Derek slid his sunglasses into place, jaw tight. "Alistar. Flora." He offered nothing more; no pleasantries, no pause, he simply strode past them toward the open front doors, his long coat swirling lightly in the sea breeze.

Kira watched his retreating back with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Then she turned back to the couple, offering them a bright, apologetic smile that reached her eyes.

"You’re very welcome to Snow Crest, Your Highness," Alistar said again, gentler this time.

"Thank you." Kira shook both their hands warmly. "And please don’t mind the King. He’s exhausted from the long drive, and it’s making him extra cranky."

Alistar’s mouth twitched with barely suppressed amusement. "We are quite accustomed to His Grace’s moods, Your Highness. No offence taken." He inclined his head. "I’m Alistar. I look after the grounds and the boats. This is my mate, Flora. She has kindly agreed to handle the kitchen and meals during your stay."

"I’ve already prepared something delicious for you both," Flora added, her eyes crinkling warmly at the corners.

"Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you two," Kira said, giving their hands another gentle squeeze. "Thank you so much for everything."

"No need to thank us," they replied almost in unison, their smiles widening.

"I’ll see you both later, then." Kira offered a small, polite nod and started up the path toward the house.

As she walked away, Flora’s hushed whisper drifted after her. "I think I like her very much."

Alistar’s low reply followed. "Let’s hope she manages to sweeten the King’s mood. She feels like light to his darkness."

Kira’s lips curled into a private smile, but she kept walking without turning around.