Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172: The Storm Is Here

The moon hung at its very peak by the time Kira slipped out of the hall, spilling pale silver light across the palace grounds.

She stopped just past the doors and scanned the open space. Guests loitered here and there in little clusters, drinks in hand, laughter drifting on the night air. The flower hedges stood dark and neat along the paths. Garlands swayed gently in the breeze.

But no Brian.

She moved further out, her eyes sweeping over every shadow, every gap between the tall hedges. She walked a short way down the garden path,

Where did that slimy snake disappear to? she thought, frustration bubbling up. He practically dared me to follow him, and now he’s playing hide and seek? Typical.

She turned to head back toward the hall.

And there he was.

Brian stood directly behind her, hands tucked casually in his pockets. Kira stopped short, her heart lurching.

"Looking for me?" he asked, that smirk firmly in place.

Kira did not give him the satisfaction of a startled step back. She walked straight up to him, chin high, and skipped past every pleasantry.

"What do you want from me? Why did you send me those photographs?"

Brian chuckled, soft and pleased, as though she had said something charming.

"I knew you’d be clever enough to work it out," he said. "That I was the one who sent the photographs. I do so enjoy not having to spell things out."

"Why?" Kira’s voice was hard. "Why are you trying to blackmail me?"

He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning a wound.

"Blackmail? Goddess, no. You wound me, my love. I’m not blackmailing you at all."

His eyes glittered in the moonlight. "I only wanted you to understand something important. That someone is always watching you. Always. You’re never quite as alone as you think you are."

Kira’s skin crawled. "So you’re stalking me."

Brian gave a small shrug, then reached out and plucked a flower from the hedge beside them, twirling it between his fingers with a lopsided grin.

"A little," he admitted.

Kira’s lip curled in disgust, but she held her ground.

"Then you should know," she said, "that those photographs aren’t what you’re trying to make them look like."

Brian raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and took a slow step closer.

"Really?" His voice dropped into something silkier and more dangerous.

"And will my dearest cousin see it that way, do you think? Will Derek look at those pictures and shrug it off? Just after you held a cosy little meeting with your stepmother, your father suddenly gains access to Dravengard’s security strategy."

He took another step, closing the space between them, crowding into her until she could smell the wine on his breath. "Walks his Umbras straight into the heart of the palace. Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say?"

He tilted his head.

"Or perhaps it wasn’t you at all. Perhaps it was your pretty little friend who’s the real traitor."

Kira’s spine went rigid. "Don’t drag Jessica into this."

"Oh, but shouldn’t I?" Brian’s grin widened, slow and cruel.

"After all, she was the one who arranged the meeting, wasn’t she? She drugged their meal. She handed you the scarf and the sunglasses. The whole little disguise was her doing."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper made of pure venom. "Now what do you suppose the King would do to her, if he heard all that? I heard she doesn’t have any pack backings now."

He lifted his hand, reaching toward her face as though to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.

Kira moved fast.

In a single fluid motion she reached down, freed the small knife strapped to her thigh beneath the layers of her gown, the very blade Derek had pressed into her palm on the night of the Umbra attack, and brought it up flat against the side of Brian’s throat.

He froze.

"Take one more step," she hissed, "and I will open your throat right here in this garden."

For one brief moment, genuine surprise flickered across Brian’s face. He had not expected the knife.

He certainly had not expected the calm, even way she held the blade now resting against his pulse without the faintest tremor.

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