Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120: Fathers and Monsters

Brian walked down the length of the brightly lit corridor of his father’s wing, without hurrying, his footsteps echoing against the floor.

He reached the door at the end, knocked once out of habit rather than courtesy, and pushed it open. The scene that greeted him made his stomach turn.

His father, Crane, lay sprawled naked across the large bed, eyes half-closed in pleasure. One woman knelt between his thighs, her head moving up and down as she took him into her mouth. The other woman pressed soft kisses across his chest, her hands roaming freely. Soft moans of pleasure filled the room.

Brian closed the door softly and stood by it. Always the same, he thought. While the kingdom shifts beneath our feet, he’s drowning in flesh.

Crane’s eyes flickered open at the sound of the door, but he didn’t look startled; he looked bored. "Brian," he rumbled. "You’re back."

"I need to speak with you, Father," Brian said in a clipped voice.

Crane let out a long sigh, patted the thigh of the woman near his chest and gestured toward the door. "You’ve been good girls. Out. Both of you."

The girls scrambled off the bed, grabbing their scattered dresses and slipping them on as they hurried past Brian without meeting his eyes. The door clicked shut behind them.

Crane rose from the bed, unhurried, and reached for the robe draped over the armchair. He shrugged it on, running a hand through his greying hair.

"Whatever you want to say had better be more important than what I was enjoying. My morning was going perfectly."

Brian remained silent, watching his father walk toward a mahogany credenza by the window. Crane’s indifference was infuriating. It was as if the world wasn’t on the brink of a change.

"How was your trip?" Crane asked casually.

He pulled out a bottle and two glasses, then crossed to the sofa and settled into it, setting everything on the low table in front of him. "Sit, for goodness’ sake. You look like you’ve swallowed a sword."

"I just returned to the news that the Council has reached a decision," Brian said. He did not sit. "They’ve agreed to crown Derek as the official King of Dravengard, Father."

Crane poured drinks into the glasses and did not look up.

"I know," he said.

Brian stared at him. "That’s all you have to say?"

"Sit down, Brian."

"You were in that Council meeting! You sit among the elders! Why did you let them hand him the crown without a fight?"

Crane looked up, his gaze sharp and piercing. "Are you going to keep shouting, or are you going to sit down like a man who understands how power actually works?"

Brian crossed the room and dropped into the seat across from his father. He took the glass but left it untouched on the arm of the chair.

Crane leaned back, swirling his drink slowly. "There are rules to how this works. A crown on Derek’s head changes nothing about the end result. The end result is still you sitting on that throne. It has always been you." He took a sip. "The crown is a formality. What comes after it is what matters."

Brian said nothing. He looked at his father for a long moment, then raised the glass and drank.

Crane watched him over the rim of his own glass. He let the silence sit for a moment, comfortable with it the way powerful men often were.

"Enough about the crown. Now, tell me about the werewolf girl," he said.

Brian’s jaw tightened. "What werewolf girl?"

Crane laughed. It was a short sound, genuine in the way his laughter rarely was. "Don’t insult me. I’ve known you your whole life." He tilted his head. "The Queen. Derek’s little wife. You’ve been watching her since the wedding. You think I haven’t noticed?"

Brian set his glass down and opened his mouth.

"Don’t," Crane said, still smiling. "I’m not judging you. I understand it completely."

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