Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Entitled Jerk

After breakfast, Kira talked Connor into giving her a tour. Since arriving, she had been too wrapped up in her own drama to explore properly.

The mansion was enormous; it had high ceilings, expensive art on the walls, guest suites, a private study, personal offices, a library with towering shelves, and a gym packed with top-tier equipment.

The staff bowed as they passed, clearly curious about the new Queen of Dravengard. Kira smiled at them, trying to look approachable and determined not to feel out of place.

They wandered through the west wing, where Connor pointed out rooms with antique furniture, a cosy family lounge, a formal dining hall, a home cinema, a piano lounge, a grand ballroom, and a sunroom filled with exotic plants. Derek’s wealth was everywhere, and she couldn’t help wondering what else there was to learn about him.

Outside, they strolled through the beautiful gardens with winding paths, sparkling fountains, and a peaceful pond where koi drifted lazily beneath lily pads. The late morning sun filtered through the trees, dappling everything in soft gold, and for a moment, Kira almost forgot where she was and basked in nature. She was just starting to feel the tension leave her shoulders when Connor’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out, his expression shifting from relaxed to professional in a heartbeat. "I have to take this. It’s the security detail at the perimeter." He looked at Kira, hesitating for a second. "Will you be alright alone for a few minutes? Just stay on the main path."

"I’m not a toddler, Connor," Kira said with a small, reassuring smile. "Go. I’ll just keep walking toward the house."

"Five minutes," he promised, already walking away and lifting the phone to his ear.

Kira watched him go, then turned back toward the looming structure of the mansion. She didn’t want to go back to her room yet, so she decided to explore the interiors one more time, alone. As she neared the far end of the west wing, she noticed a set of heavy, carved oak doors slightly ajar. Curiosity, her oldest friend and most frequent troublemaker, nudged her forward.

She stepped inside and realised she had found the gallery.

The room was dim, lit only by tall windows draped in curtains that softened the daylight into something almost reverent. It smelled of old books and faint wax polish. Shelves lined two walls, but it wasn’t books that caught her eye, it was the portraits.

Row after row of framed oil paintings and formal photographs hung in perfect symmetry. Men and women in regal poses, some in modern suits and gowns, others in older ceremonial robes that still carried the unmistakable sign of Lycan royalty. Beneath each frame was a small brass plaque with names and dates.

Derek’s ancestors. The late Alphas and Lunas of Dravengard.

Kira stepped closer, drawn in despite herself. One portrait showed a stern man with Derek’s exact jawline, amber eyes that seemed to follow her across the room. Another captured a woman with silver-streaked hair and a gentle smile that looked painfully out of place among so much regal severity.

She was still studying the most recent portrait, a younger version of Derek’s parents, when a deep male voice rolled through the quiet behind her.

"Look who we have here."

Kira’s heart gave a violent lurch. She spun around, her breath catching in her throat.

Standing just a few feet away was Brian. He was leaning against a marble plinth, a mischievous glint in his eyes that set every instinct on edge. He was dressed casually in dark jeans, and a black shirt rolled to the elbows, but the easy confidence in his posture screamed predator playing at leisure.

"You’re far from your room, Your Highness," he said, his voice dripping with a fake friendliness.

Kira didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like she was something he was trying to devour. "I was just leaving," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She tried to brush past him, keeping her eyes fixed on the door.

Before she could take a second step, Brian’s hand shot out, and closed around her wrist. In one smooth motion, he slammed her back against his chest. His other arm banded across her waist, locking her in place. Then he dipped his head and inhaled deeply against her hair.

"You smell nice," he murmured, voice low and amused. "Like a flower and something sweet. No wonder the King is so distracted."

"Let go of me," Kira gritted out, squirming in his grip. She tried to wedge her elbow into his ribs, but he was like a brick wall.

He only tightened his hold slightly, enough to remind her how much stronger he was. "I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Brian warned. "Better remain calm, little wolf. No one’s coming to save you now."

She forced herself to stop struggling, breathing through her nose. Panic wouldn’t help. "What do you want?"

"Is that your best pitch? ’I fuck better’?" she asked, tilting her head. "Because honestly, it’s pathetic. You’re standing in a room full of your ancestors, bragging about your bedroom skills to a woman you just met? It’s not ’fun’, Mr. Brian. It’s desperate."

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