Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97: Selective Reflexes

The Central night market was a riot of noise, colour, and smells that seemed to assault the senses from every direction.

Kira moved through the throng, her eyes dancing as she took in the flickering fairy lights and the steam rising from various food stalls. Behind her, Derek followed like a dark cloud attempting to navigate a summer festival.

He couldn’t believe that her idea of having an evening fun was coming to a messy, crowded human night market.

In his casual dark tee and trousers, he looked less like a king and more like a very dangerous man trying and failing to blend in. He kept his shoulders stiff, his gaze darting around as if expecting an assassin to leap out from behind a pile of knock-off designer handbags.

"This is madness," Derek grumbled, and dodged a group of teenagers and nearly collided with a man carrying a stack of plastic crates.

"Remind me once again what we’re doing in a human market? This crowd is suffocating, and the noise is intolerable."

Kira laughed and turned to look at him. She reached back, grabbing his wrist to pull him deeper into the fray.

"It’s called having fun, Derek! It’s a bazaar. Jessica and I used to come here all the time. You can find the most amazing things if you look hard enough, and everything is so much cheaper than in the city boutiques and stores."

Derek’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why on earth do we need ’cheap’ things? We are royalty. I could buy every stall in this square and have it delivered to the palace by midnight if you desired a particular trinket."

Kira rolled her eyes, though a small, fond smile tugged at her lips.

"That’s not the point, you over-privileged wolf. It’s a type of charity, for one—supporting local vendors. But the real fun is in the mingling. Look at the displays! Enjoy the life happening around you. Not everything has to be a tactical mission."

As they brushed past a stall draped in vibrant, hand-woven scarves, a young woman reached out and grabbed Derek’s hand to pull him towards her display.

"Sir! Beautiful silks for your lady? Just touch the quality!"

Derek’s Lycan reflexes, honed by years of combat and paranoia, snapped into place. His claws slid out a fraction, as he spun.

A low growl rolled out of his chest as he glared down at the woman with eyes that had gone gold at the edges.

The vendor let out a horrified shriek, dropping her clothes and diving behind her wooden counter as if she were under fire.

"Derek! Stop it!" Kira hissed and grabbed his arm, her small hands looking pale against his dark tee. She forcibly dragged him toward a quiet, dimly lit alleyway at the edge of the market.

Once they were tucked away from the crowdy and noisy place, she let go of him and turned around, her chest heaving with indignation. She glared at him, her hands on her hips.

"What is wrong with you? "Are you trying to scare these poor humans out of their own market?" she demanded. "She was just trying to sell you a scarf, not take your head off!"

Derek eye changed slowly, his chest still heaving as the adrenaline of the ’attack’ ebbed away. He looked at her, his jaw set in a hard line.

"The woman touched me without warning," he said flatly. "My reflexes do not distinguish between a silk merchant and a threat. It is a biological response."

Truth was that his senses were on high alert. Part of him, the cold, calculating King, whispered that this was a trap. She knew these streets; he didn’t. What if she had lured him here to an ambush?

"And why are you taking another person’s side? I am your husband. You should take my side," he said with mock rage.

Kira stared silently at him for a moment, taking in his face hidden behind that hat.

Annoyingly cute, she thought to herself. Truly, infuriatingly cute.

She couldn’t even bring herself to get truly mad at him. The casual clothing softened his harsh edges, making him look less like a distant monarch and more like a man who just wanted to be understood.

She blew out a breath. "Derek, it’s a market," she said softly. "These people are vendors. Their entire job is to reach out and grab your attention. They will touch your sleeve, your hand, your shoulder. They will pull you towards their stalls. That is the whole structure of how this works."

She gestured at his outfit. "This is exactly why I made you wear something this casual. So you would blend in. So you would not stand here scowling like a thundercloud and frighten everyone back into their houses."

Derek said nothing.

She sighed, and looked at the exit of the alleyway, then back at him.

Derek remained silent. His logical mind screaming: Get out of here! Telling him that she was Moonfang born, capable, and that her father had taught her how to set people up. The thought rose, uninvited and unkind, and he hated himself a little for letting it surface.

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