Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 79

Chapter 79: The Dinner Banquet

Derek’s face tightened into a scowl the moment the question left her lips, but it lacked its usual frost. The lines around his eyes had softened, and the amber in his irises still held a trace of warmth.

"I wasn’t smiling," he grumbled, his voice a low rumble against her chest. "The light in here is playing tricks on you."

Kira let out a soft, surprised giggle. She couldn’t believe the sudden joy that bubbled up her chest at seeing his smile. "I saw it. Don’t you dare deny it, Your Grumpy Grace." She shook her head.

Derek’s jaw tightened. "I did no such thing."

"Liar," she sang softly, poking one finger against the hard plane of his chest. "It was small, but it was definitely there. Like the sun trying to peek through storm clouds. Admit it. You smiled at your contract bride."

He exhaled through his nose, a sound caught somewhere between irritation and reluctant amusement. Then, to her utter astonishment, the corner of his mouth lifted again, just a fraction, but unmistakable. The second smile was quieter, almost private, in that brief second before the mask slid back into place.

"See?! You’re doing it again!" she squealed, poking his cheek. "King Derek Wolfe, the Great Terror of the West, actually has dimples. Who would have thought?"

"I do not have dimples."

Derek let out a heavy sigh, defeated by the tiny woman in his arms. Instead of putting her down to let her walk, he tightened his grip, shifting her weight so she was nestled securely against his heart. He began to descend the staircase, his boots thudding against the wood. Kira rested her head on his shoulder, listening to the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat.

"I like warm Derek better. Warm Derek is best Derek," she muttered.

He didn’t reply to that.

Outside, the evening air carried the clean scent of the sea. The sleek black Cullinan Rolls Royce waited, door already open. Derek lowered her into the back seat with surprising care, then slid in beside her.

The drive from the salt-crusted isolation of the beach house to the looming grandeur of the Snow Crest pack house was quiet, filled only with the low hum of the engine and the occasional brush of his thigh against hers.

When they arrived, the grand pack house glowed under soft golden lights strung through carefully tended gardens. Music drifted from within—elegant strings and piano—mingling with the murmur of voices. Kira stepped out first, smoothing the front of her gown. A sudden chill raced down her spine, sharp and unwelcome, as though invisible eyes had fixed on the back of her neck. She turned quickly, scanning the arriving guests. Nothing looked out of place, only well-dressed Lycans laughing politely, and servants moving with efficiency. Yet the feeling lingered coldly.

Derek’s hand settled at the small of her back. "Are you all right?" His voice was low, meant for her ears alone.

She forced a bright smile. "Perfectly fine. Just... taking it all in."

She glanced behind her once more. Still nothing. Derek’s fingers tightened slightly around her. He leaned down, his breath brushing the shell of her ear.

"You are only nervous," he said, tone almost gentle.

"This is your first public event as my Queen. It’s natural to feel exposed when everyone is waiting to catch a glimpse of you."

Kira nodded, though the chill refused to leave her skin. She let him guide her inside.

The moment they crossed the threshold into the grand banquet hall, an announcer’s clear voice rang out.

"Welcome "His Grace, King Derek Wolfe! The Supreme Leader of the Western Packs, and Her Grace, Queen Kira Wolfe!"

The low hum of conversation died. Every head turned. Chairs scraped back as the assembled Lycans rose as one, bowing deeply. Derek held her tightly beside him, his chin high, his expression returning to that of the untouchable monarch.

When the people lifted their heads, Kira could feel the heat of the gazes following her. Some were filled with awe, some were curious, some were appraising, and many openly cool. Especially the women. To them, she was a mystery, an outsider who had captured the heart of the unshakeable King.

She kept her chin high, shoulders straight, even as she became painfully aware of how relatively small she looked compared to the towering frame of the Lycans.

Alpha Lucas approached first, a tall man with kind brown eyes and dark hair. His Luna, a graceful woman with warm brown skin and a genuine smile, followed close behind.

"Your Grace," the couple said in unison, immediately bowing their heads again. "Your Highness."

Lucas offered his hand to Derek.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify