Defying the Lycan King

Chapter 242: A Prettier Cage

"Thank you, Viktor," Kira said warmly, lifting the flowers to her nose again. "They’re lovely."

Viktor was her human tutor, and one of the quiet miracles of the past month.

Braxton had hired him in secret during her time in hiding, arranging for him to come to Crystal Moon so that Kira could join her university’s live classes through his feed and not fall behind.

And over those weeks, the two of them had grown genuinely close. Viktor had felt like the only person in the world who understood her during that raw, heartbroken stretch, the only one who asked nothing of her and simply let her be.

There was nothing romantic in it, not on her side. What Kira felt for Viktor was respect, and a deep appreciation for his patience and his understanding when she’d needed both most.

Viktor adjusted his glasses and lowered his voice. "You came back to this place? After what he did to you?"

"It’s complicated," Kira said.

His brow creased, his eyes darting toward the towering figure on the terrace. "Did he force you to come back here? Are you here under duress?"

Kira laughed. "Viktor. You know me. I’d be the very last person on this earth to do anything under duress." She waved the flower at him, steering the conversation elsewhere. "Come on. We’ve got some introductions to do."

Viktor adjusted his glasses again and walked with her up toward the terrace, where Derek stood waiting.

Watching. Arms folded. Entirely unsmiling.

"Derek," Kira said brightly, "this is Viktor, my tutor from the University."

Viktor politely stretched out his right hand for a handshake. "It is an honour to meet you, sir."

Derek did not move a single muscle. He didn’t even glance down at the offered hand; his piercing amber eyes stared straight into Viktor’s face with a cold intensity.

He looked like a statue carved from particularly unfriendly granite.

Leo was currently pacing in his mind, growling at the scent of another male so close to his female.

The seconds crawled. Viktor’s hand hung in the air, wilting slowly, until at last he withdrew it with an awkward little cough.

"Right," he said. "No touching, I guess."

Kira, mortified, hurried to smooth it over. "Viktor, this is—"

"Derek Wolfe," Derek said, taking the introduction clean out of her mouth. "Supreme ruler of the Western Lycan territories." A beat. "And Kira’s husband."

Kira’s eyes slid sideways at him.

Derek gave the flower in Kira’s hand a highly disapproving look.

"And before you proceed with today’s lesson, I would like to have a brief word with my wife. In private."

Viktor smiled gamely and nodded. "Of course. Not a problem at all, Mr Wolfe."

"Gavin," Kira said, "please escort Viktor to the living room and ensure he is served some tea."

Gavin led the tutor away, and Derek and Kira stepped into the kitchen. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Kira immediately spun on her heel, folding her arms tightly across her chest as she glared up at him.

"What the hell was that ridiculous display about, Derek? Why are you being so rude to my guest?"

"I wasn’t being rude," Derek said. "I simply don’t trust that man one bit."

Kira folded her arms across her chest. "Of course you don’t trust him. You think he’s a threat to you."

She tilted her head. "Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been treating every male within ten feet of me lately? You can’t even hide the possessiveness. You shoulder-barged Gavin over a chair this morning."

"You’re my soulbond," Derek said. "It’s only natural for me to be possessive over you. You’d do exactly the same if you saw a woman hovering near me."

Kira glared at him. "I’ve told you already to rein in that primal instinct of yours, Derek. We are not a normal couple. You don’t own me anymore. And I won’t have you ruining every relationship I have with other males."

Derek stared at her blankly, saying nothing.

But inside, his head was a chaotic mess.

She was his female, his soulbond. And she stood there, calm as anything, asking him not to do the one thing that came as naturally to his kind as breathing. It sounded ridiculous. It felt ridiculous.

Even unmarked, even with everything broken between them, his animal instincts were taking over his sanity.

And she felt none of it. He had felt it since the day she returned. Kira was able to detach herself from the bond entirely, to hold it at arm’s length in a way he simply couldn’t.

She didn’t burn the way he burned. He wondered, not for the first time, whether that too was a gift of the white Lycan, some ability to govern what governed everyone else.

But he had no choice. He’d given her his word. Her rules. Her terms. And if this slow torment was the price of having wrecked everything with his own two hands, then he would pay it.

"Understood," he said.

"Good." Kira nodded, satisfied. Then she added, briskly, "And honestly, it’d be better if we both took our minds off this whole soulbond business anyway. In a few months’ time, we’ll be rejecting each other, so there’s no point dwelling on it."

Derek coughed.

It came out of nowhere, sudden and harsh, and he pressed his palm over his mouth as it racked through him.

Kira’s brows drew together, and she hurried to his side at once, her hand going to his arm.

"Okay," she said firmly. "That settles it. Now you definitely need to see a doctor."

***

Dr Lorenzo walked into his office to find the King already seated across from his desk.

He startled, then quickly bowed. "Your Grace. Forgive me, I didn’t realise you’d arrived." He moved around to his chair. "The Queen sent word to me about your cough. She suspects it might be a cold. Tell me, what are your symptoms?"

Derek’s fingers, which had been tapping a slow rhythm on the desk, went still.

"I know what’s wrong with me, doctor," he said. "There’s no need for a check-up."

Dr Lorenzo stared at him quizzically.

"What I’m about to tell you," Derek continued, his voice low and even, "is a secret. And you will not share it with anyone else. Not your colleagues, not the Queen, not a soul. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Your Grace. Medical confidentiality is absolute."

"This is happening," Derek said, "because I’m withering away. The Queen has refused to acknowledge our bond. She has walled herself off from it. The rejection is slowly draining my inner beast, and it is weakening my entire system. Day by day."

Dr Lorenzo’s eyes went wide with shock. For a moment he could only stare. Then he leaned forward. "Your Grace. Why not simply tell her the truth? If she knew what the refusal was doing to you—"

"No." Derek shook his head once. "There’s no need. I don’t want her accepting this bond out of sympathy for me. Or because she feels she has no choice. That’s not acceptance at all. It’s just a prettier cage. After all, I still have years before it kills me, I will just lose my physical strength."

He looked away, toward the window. "I’ve already mentioned the nature of it to her before, in passing. But I don’t believe she quite grasped what it means. And I intend to keep it that way."

He turned back to the doctor, his gaze hard.

"So when she asks you, and she will ask you, you’re going to tell her this is something else. A lingering chest cold. Fatigue. Whatever you like. Understood?"

Dr Lorenzo held the King’s gaze for a moment, clearly torn between his oath and his orders.

Then he bowed his head.

"Understood, Your Grace."