Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Commander-in-Chief

Jessica stared behind Kira, distracted by something, or rather someone else, while Kira recounted her new life experiences in Dravengard. They had grabbed a table at the cafeteria after their first lecture to relax, but "relaxing" was the last thing on the menu.

Kira had been mid-sentence about the sheer size of Dravengard’s breakfast spreads when she noticed Jessica’s eyes drifting again. She snapped her fingers twice in her face to bring her back to reality.

"Earth to Jess! Welcome back to the cafeteria," Kira teased. "Focus!"

Jessica blinked, refocused, then jerked her chin towards the corner table. "I’m focused. Just... on him. Is he going to be here all day?"

Kira twisted in her seat. Connor sat one table away like a stone statue. Even in the casual campus setting, he looked terrifying. He wore dark sunglasses that hid his eyes, even though they were indoors, but his scowl was visible from a mile away.

"Unfortunately," Kira groaned, turning back to her friend.

She could still hear Derek’s cool voice from that morning in the car. He had been adamant and had wanted six bodyguards to march her across campus. She had flat-out refused. No way was she turning up to lectures looking like a celebrity under siege. After ten minutes of back-and-forth argument in the car, he had sighed, rubbed his temple like she was giving him a migraine, and finally muttered, "Fine. Connor only. But he stays close."

So here Connor was. She liked him well enough, but having a Lycan warrior watch you drink a latte was a bit much.

"I mean, I’m not exactly complaining," Jessica said, lips curving into a wicked grin. "He’s definitely not a bad view, K."

Kira rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh. "Jess, please. You’re supposed to be on my side."

"I am! I’m Team Kira forever. But come on, babe. You’re basically a queen now. Queens get security details. It’s protocol. You never had this at your dad’s place, so it feels weird, but it’s... right."

Kira huffed a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. "Speaking of my father. How’s he holding up?"

Jessica’s grin turned downright gleeful. "Oh, trust Anna to deliver the premium tea."

Anna was one of the omegas in Kira’s father’s pack house who helped her communicate with Jessica whenever her father grounded her and confiscated all her mobile devices, isolating her from the world as a form of punishment.

"Your dad’s fine," Jessica continued. "Physically, anyway. It’s just a silver blade straight through the palm. Personally, I would’ve preferred if your man had ripped the whole arm off, but we can’t have everything."

Kira’s coffee cup froze halfway to her mouth. "A what?"

Jessica took a slow sip of her mango smoothie, eyes dancing. "You didn’t know your shiny new husband stabbed him?"

"Stop calling him my husband. It feels weird."

"But he is," Jessica singsonged, batting her lashes.

Kira shot her the filthiest glare she could muster. Jessica only grinned wider.

"I left before any of that went down," Kira muttered. "You’re telling me Derek actually stabbed him?"

Jessica nodded, not even pretending to look sorry. "Can’t say I feel bad for the man. Not even a little." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and her gaze slid past Kira again. A soft flush crept up her neck. Kira followed the look.

Connor had finally ditched the sunglasses. He was now casually flipping through some glossy magazine that had materialised from nowhere, looking for all the world like a very dangerous man trying to appear normal.

Kira sighed. "Jess. I know you’re basically a desert right now, but focus. He’s working. He’s not going to notice you swooning from across the room."

Jessica gasped, mock-offended. "Excuse you? Are you saying I’m not hot enough to distract a Lycan bodyguard?"

"You’re a smoke show, darling," Kira said, grinning despite herself. "But these Lycans are emotionally constipated. They don’t do swooning back." Heat crawled up her own neck at the memory of Derek’s mouth brushing her forehead that morning. She quickly shoved that memory into her never-think-about-this-ever-again mental file and locked the door.

"Well, not everyone is as repressed as your husband," Jessica replied, then leaned closer, voice dropping to conspiracy level. "Speaking of emotionally constipated husbands... have you two done the deed yet? Scale of one to monster truck, how big are we talking?"

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