Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Dad Jokes

His tone and the way he dismissed her almost made her waver and spin on her heels, but what was the point if she couldn’t annoy the hell out of him? Annoying him was more satisfying.

"No," she said firmly.

His amber eyes snapped back to her. "That wasn’t a request."

"I’m not going to run out of this room just because you said so." She headed straight for the couch and sat down, arms still crossed.

Derek’s eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"Staying here." She made herself comfortable, settling in like she belonged.

"Are you deliberately provoking me?"

Kira looked thoughtful for a second. "Well... you married me," she replied calmly as she started to lie down. "So you get everything that comes with me. If you want, I can lie here quietly and watch you work."

Derek stared at her in stunned disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had left him genuinely speechless. And for the first time since the marriage, he found himself wondering exactly what kind of woman he had brought into his life.

He ignored her and returned his attention to his laptop.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the rapid clicking of Derek’s keyboard. Kira watched him for a few minutes, her eyes tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the intense focus in his gaze. He looked like a machine; efficient, cold, and entirely unreachable.

Naturally, she had to break that.

She propped herself up on one elbow and called softly, "Your Grace?"

The clicking didn’t stop. He didn’t even blink.

Kira sat up, tucking her feet under her and leaning forward. "Do you usually work like this? I mean, it’s the middle of the night. Even the koi in the pond are probably asleep by now." She tilted her head, observing the way the lamplight hit the muscle of his shoulder. "Don’t you ever get tired of it?"

No response.

She tried again, her voice light and curious. "What makes you smile, anyway? I’ve been here for days, and I haven’t seen one real one. Is it the stock market going up? A perfectly executed hostile takeover? Or maybe puppies? Everyone likes puppies."

Still nothing. Not even a twitch.

Kira huffed a small laugh. "Okay, fine. Favourite colour, then. Black? Grey? Something brooding and dramatic to match your whole vibe?"

Silence.

She leaned forward slightly, undaunted. "Maybe this will catch your attention. What’s your favourite food? Or do you just survive on black coffee and spite?"

Derek’s jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed glued to the monitor.

Kira glared at the side of his head for a long moment, her frustration bubbling up. Suddenly, she clapped her hands together with a loud smack, giggling to herself. "Oh! I finally know what you’d like. I can feel it."

Derek’s hands froze over the keys. He let out a low, warning growl, his eyes cutting to her with a lethal glare. "Can you shut up?

The room fell silent for exactly one second as Kira blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes, lips pressed together in mock remorse. Derek started to turn back to his monitor.

"Want to hear a joke?" she asked.

Hours passed. The clock on the wall ticked toward 3:00 AM before Derek finally pushed back from his desk. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his gaze drifting to the girl on the couch. She looked so small, her face softened by sleep, a far cry from the chaotic "psycho" who had been bouncing on her bed earlier.

’Brian came out of the gallery right after she did. They were both... flushed. Dishevelled.’

Ruby’s poison-laced words suddenly drifted back into his mind.

The memory ignited a slow burn in his chest, something akin to anger, sharp and unwelcoming. He forced it down, reminding himself of the contract he had written himself: no emotions, no loyalty, no claim beyond the heir she would give him. An open marriage. She could do whatever—or whoever—she wanted. He didn’t care.

He told himself that again, slower this time.

It barely helped.

His finger moved to the monitor almost without conscious thought. He pulled up the security footage from earlier that day. He skipped through the clips, seeing her with Connor in the kitchen, noting her laughter and the simple clothes she was wearing. Denim shorts and a caramel sweater.

He closed the feed, his jaw tight. He left the study, bypassed the sleeping girl, and entered her bedroom.

The room smelled of her, jasmine and something sweet. He went straight to the laundry basket, digging until he found the shorts and sweater. He picked them up, his grip tightening.

He lowered his head, pressing the clothes to his face and inhaling deeply.

The scent hit him instantly. Beneath the heavy and unmistakable jasmine was the sharp, musky scent of Brian. It was all over the fabric.

Derek’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flared a dangerous, glowing amber. His hands balled into white-knuckled fists, crushing the fabric so hard the seams groaned. He stood there a long time, fabric crushed in his grip, before he finally let go.