Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 101

Chapter 101: Easier than Talking

"So," Kira said, swinging their joined hands lightly between them. "Did you enjoy it?"

Now they were walking away from the noodles stall, hand in hand, moving down a quieter path where the market noise had softened behind them.

The bowls were enormous, the broth was deep and rich and slightly spicy, and Derek had eaten every last drop without once admitting that he was enjoying it.

He kept his eyes ahead. "It was... adequate. It was just there."

Kira turned to look at him with a knowing expression, squinting at him. "Just there."

"Yes."

"You ate everything."

"I was hungry."

"You asked him for extra broth, Derek."

"The bowl had too many noodles and not enough liquid. I was correcting the ratio."

Kira pressed her lips together to hold the smile back, which was a completely losing battle. "Right. So if I suggested we go back sometime, you would say?"

He was quiet for a moment and then shrugged. "I didn’t say it was inedible."

"High praise from the King."

"I said what I said."

She was openly grinning now, nudging him with her shoulder. "Admit it. You liked it. Three words. That is all I need."

Derek exhaled through his nose. "I would," he said eventually, "eat it a second time."

Kira threw her head back and laughed. "I knew it! I absolutely knew it!"

"Don’t make it a thing."

"It is already a thing. It is the most wonderful thing."

He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth had betrayed him slightly.

They walked on, and Kira launched into a story about university. Jessica, apparently, had once convinced her to enter a poetry slam competition under a fake name after two glasses of wine, and Kira had won, and then had to collect the prize while pretending to be someone called Marguerite Jones from the literature department.

"You performed under a false name," Derek said.

"In my defence, it was Jessica’s idea."

"That defence does not hold."

"I won, though." She held up a finger. "I’d like that on the record. Marguerite won first place."

"Marguerite," he repeated.

"She was a very talented poet."

"You are a deeply strange woman."

"Thank you."

He actually smiled at that.

Inside his head, something quiet was happening. Derek could not pinpoint when this evening had become what it was. He had come outside planning to drive her somewhere reasonable and return at a sensible hour.

He had ended up in a photo booth wearing a headband with stars on it. He had shot carnival targets with military precision and watched his wife distribute oversized stuffed animals to crying children.

He had run through a market laughing. He had stood in a hidden alley with her face inches from his and felt the world go completely still.

He could not remember when he had last felt this. This particular lightness. Something that had no name in the vocabulary he had built for himself over the years, because his vocabulary had never needed a word for it.

He was still turning the thought over when he heard music somewhere ahead, it was faint but distinct, a melody with a strong beat underneath it, and voices, many of them, rising and falling in the way crowds did when they were watching something that had their full attention.

Kira’s head came up immediately.

"Oh," she said, and her face did something that made Derek brace himself. "Oh, I completely forgot this was this weekend."

"What is?" he asked, already suspicious.

"The fertility festival." She was already walking faster, pulling him gently by the hand. "It’s an old human tradition they do every year. Dancing competitions, street performers, and food. Couples who win the partner dance get a double prize." She glanced at him. "Come on, let’s just go and watch."

He went, because stopping her when her face looked like that was a project he did not have the energy for.

The venue opened up at the end of the path, a wide cobblestone square strung with lights and packed with people standing in a loose ring around a performance space in the centre.

A group of young women were dancing, moving in confident formations to a drumbeat that carried across the whole square.

Kira immediately weaved through the crowd, pulling Derek behind her with the determination of a very small tugboat, until they were standing at the front.

Derek positioned himself directly behind her, arms folded, watching the crowd with automatic vigilance.

Kira was already clapping.

She cheered the dancers with genuine, full-throated enthusiasm, throwing small handfuls of confetti from a nearby basket, her voice rising with the crowd at every impressive turn.

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