Chapter 153
Derek was halfway through a stack of the security border reports when he heard the front door of the mansion open.
He recognised the footsteps immediately. He would have recognised them anywhere by now. And that intoxicating scent that followed it was like none other.
As her footsteps grew closer and closer, he quickly closed the document folder, set it down, stretched himself out along the couch, and shut his eyes.
The couch was not built for a man of his size. His feet hung off one end, and his neck was bent at an angle no sleeping person would tolerate. He ignored all of it and arranged his face into something he hoped resembled deep, innocent sleep.
He had no idea why he was doing this. He simply was.
Kira went upstairs and changed into a casual outfit before heading towards the kitchen to get some water. On her way down, she stopped by Derek’s study and pushed the door open, but it was empty: the desk lamp off, the chair pushed in.
She frowned. A gamma had told her clearly that the King was home. She checked the kitchen and found it empty too.
She was about to go back up to grab her phone and send him a text when she decided to look at the lounge. She saw him there.
He was stretched out on the couch, fast asleep. The couch was far too small for him, and he had folded himself onto it anyway, one arm hanging toward the floor, his head bent against the armrest at an angle that would give any normal man a week of neck pain.
Documents were scattered across the coffee table in front of him, papers half-spilling onto the floor.
She let out a small sigh, crossed the room quietly and stood over him, looking down at his face. He looked different asleep.
The constant tension he carried in his jaw, the sharp alertness that never fully switched off, all of it had loosened. He looked almost peaceful.
She fought the urge to bend down and trace a finger across his perfect face. She bent down to look closer, and that was when she noticed the small cut on his lower lip.
It was tiny, barely anything, already healing. But the sight of it pulled Brian’s voice straight back into her head.
There was a werewolf attack last night. One of the lower villages.
She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the thought out.
She would not do this. She would not stand here, looking at her sleeping husband, and let Brian’s poison take root. That was exactly what he wanted.
Brian would say anything, twist anything, plant anything, if it got under her skin. She refused to hand him that victory.
She opened her eyes and exhaled, staring at Derek’s face.
Gently, almost without deciding to, she reached down and ran her fingers through Derek’s hair, smoothing it back from his forehead.
Will there ever be a day when you find it in your heart to let your grudge against the werewolves go?
He groaned softly and shifted, as though stirring.
Kira smiled to herself and pulled her hand back. Poor man. He had clearly been so exhausted that he had not even made it upstairs.
She wondered how long he had been working to be so exhausted.
She thought about waking him so he could go up to bed properly. But she did not know how tired he truly was, and the thought of dragging an exhausted man up a flight of stairs when he had finally fallen asleep felt unkind.
So instead she went to fetch a blanket.
When she came back, she draped it over him carefully, tucking it down along his side, smoothing it over his shoulder. He did not stir.
She allowed herself one last look at his face and turned to leave him in peace.
But as she turned around, a hand closed around her wrist and yanked her downward.
Kira yelped as she came down with absolutely no grace whatsoever, landing flat on top of him on the couch, her hands braced against his chest, their faces suddenly inches apart.
His eyes were open now, and entirely awake. Her heart was slamming against her ribs hard enough that she was certain he could feel it where she was pressed against him.
She tried to push up and get off him, but his arm came around her back and tightened, holding her exactly where she was.
Kira’s face went the deep, vivid red of a tomato at the height of its season, and her eyes widened.
“You—” Her voice came out as a squeak. “You were not asleep p>
“I was resting my eyes,” he replied casually.
She had no idea why he did this to her. Every single time. She had built a shield around her heart, an immunity against heartbreaks, but one Lycan king holding her on a couch turned her into a flustered, overheated mess who had forgotten how words worked.
“Derek, someone could walk in,” she whispered. Her eyes darted toward the doorway. “and find us like this p>
His brows pulled together slightly.
“Are you not my wife?” he asked.
“I—well—yes, technically, but that isn’t the p>
Derek leaned up and kissed her.
It was light and quick, barely a press of his mouth to hers, and then he lay back down against the armrest, perfectly relaxed, a small smile sitting on his face.
Kira stopped talking entirely.
Her heart was no longer beating so much as attempting to escape her body and start a new life elsewhere. A small, involuntary shiver ran the length of her, and she was certain he had felt that too, because his smile shifted very slightly.
Derek’s eyes moved over her, taking in the colour of her face, the way she had gone still, the way her fingers had curled into the fabric of his shirt without her noticing.
Then his gaze returned to her eyes and held there.
“Kira,” he said quietly. “Why are you all flushed? Perhaps, have you fallen in love with me p>