Defying the Lycan King-Chapter 17: Entitled Jerk

After breakfast, Kira talked Connor into giving her a tour. Since arriving, she had been too wrapped up in her own drama to explore properly.

The mansion was enormous; it had high ceilings, expensive art on the walls, guest suites, a private study, personal offices, a library with towering shelves, and a gym packed with top-tier equipment.

The staff bowed as they passed, clearly curious about the new Queen of Dravengard. Kira smiled at them, trying to look approachable and determined not to feel out of place.

They wandered through the west wing, where Connor pointed out rooms with antique furniture, a cosy family lounge, a formal dining hall, a home cinema, a piano lounge, a grand ballroom, and a sunroom filled with exotic plants. Derek’s wealth was everywhere, and she couldn’t help wondering what else there was to learn about him.

Outside, they strolled through the beautiful gardens with winding paths, sparkling fountains, and a peaceful pond where koi drifted lazily beneath lily pads. The late morning sun filtered through the trees, dappling everything in soft gold, and for a moment, Kira almost forgot where she was and basked in nature. She was just starting to feel the tension leave her shoulders when Connor’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out, his expression shifting from relaxed to professional in a heartbeat. "I have to take this. It’s the security detail at the perimeter." He looked at Kira, hesitating for a second. "Will you be alright alone for a few minutes? Just stay on the main path."

"I’m not a toddler, Connor," Kira said with a small, reassuring smile. "Go. I’ll just keep walking toward the house."

"Five minutes," he promised, already walking away and lifting the phone to his ear.

Kira watched him go, then turned back toward the looming structure of the mansion. She didn’t want to go back to her room yet, so she decided to explore the interiors one more time, alone. As she neared the far end of the west wing, she noticed a set of heavy, carved oak doors slightly ajar. Curiosity, her oldest friend and most frequent troublemaker, nudged her forward.

She stepped inside and realised she had found the gallery.

The room was dim, lit only by tall windows draped in curtains that softened the daylight into something almost reverent. It smelled of old books and faint wax polish. Shelves lined two walls, but it wasn’t books that caught her eye, it was the portraits.

Row after row of framed oil paintings and formal photographs hung in perfect symmetry. Men and women in regal poses, some in modern suits and gowns, others in older ceremonial robes that still carried the unmistakable sign of Lycan royalty. Beneath each frame was a small brass plaque with names and dates.

Derek’s ancestors. The late Alphas and Lunas of Dravengard.

Kira stepped closer, drawn in despite herself. One portrait showed a stern man with Derek’s exact jawline, amber eyes that seemed to follow her across the room. Another captured a woman with silver-streaked hair and a gentle smile that looked painfully out of place among so much regal severity.

She was still studying the most recent portrait, a younger version of Derek’s parents, when a deep male voice rolled through the quiet behind her.

"Look who we have here."

Kira’s heart gave a violent lurch. She spun around, her breath catching in her throat.

Standing just a few feet away was Brian. He was leaning against a marble plinth, a mischievous glint in his eyes that set every instinct on edge. He was dressed casually in dark jeans, and a black shirt rolled to the elbows, but the easy confidence in his posture screamed predator playing at leisure.

"You’re far from your room, Your Highness," he said, his voice dripping with a fake friendliness.

Kira didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like she was something he was trying to devour. "I was just leaving," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She tried to brush past him, keeping her eyes fixed on the door.

Before she could take a second step, Brian’s hand shot out, and closed around her wrist. In one smooth motion, he slammed her back against his chest. His other arm banded across her waist, locking her in place. Then he dipped his head and inhaled deeply against her hair.

"You smell nice," he murmured, voice low and amused. "Like a flower and something sweet. No wonder the King is so distracted."

"Let go of me," Kira gritted out, squirming in his grip. She tried to wedge her elbow into his ribs, but he was like a brick wall.

He only tightened his hold slightly, enough to remind her how much stronger he was. "I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Brian warned. "Better remain calm, little wolf. No one’s coming to save you now."

She forced herself to stop struggling, breathing through her nose. Panic wouldn’t help. "What do you want?"

"The truth." His tone was almost playful, but there was steel underneath. "Promise me you won’t leave this gallery if I let you go."

Kira’s jaw clenched. She hated being cornered, and hated the way his sharp scent invaded her space. But she also knew she wasn’t getting out of his grip by force.

"Fine," she said tightly. "I promise."

He released her, and Kira immediately spun around, put several feet of distance between them, and rubbed her wrist. She glared at him, her eyes narrowed.

Brian tilted his head, studying her. "So. The werewolf bride. Tell me, how is queen life treating you?"

"Better than being pawed at by someone who clearly doesn’t know the meaning of the word ’boundaries’," Kira snapped, her eyes flashing with a cold fire. She straightened her top, her skin crawling where his touch had lingered.

"Feisty. I like that." He let his eyes drag down her body and back up, slowly. Then, he circled her slowly, like a shark deciding whether the prey was worth the bite. "But let’s get down to business, Chloe. I’ve been away for a few weeks, and I come back to find my cousin has married the Moonfang heir. A girl with no wolf scent."

He stopped in front of her, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. "Why you? Derek doesn’t do anything without a reason, and he certainly doesn’t do ’charity’. So, did your father drug him? Or did you just give him a show he couldn’t say no to?"

Kira felt a surge of nausea at his implication, but she didn’t flinch. "If you’re fishing for gossip about my marriage, you’re wasting your breath," she said coolly. "I’m not here to entertain you."

Brian’s smirk sharpened, and he stepped into her personal space again, ignoring her clear discomfort. "You think you’re special because you have a crown now? That’s just gold-plated glass, sweetheart. Derek is a cold man. He’ll use you until he’s bored, and then he’ll throw you to the wolves—literally."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a suggestive silkiness. "You’re wasting your time with him. He’s all duty and ice. If you want to know what it’s actually like to be with a man who knows how to treat a woman... well, let’s just say I fuck a lot better than my cousin ever could. I’m a lot more fun than a man who treats his bedroom like a boardroom."

Kira felt pure revulsion. She didn’t flinch, though every nerve in her body wanted to recoil. Instead, she let out a short, sharp laugh that sounded genuinely amused.

"Is that your best pitch? ’I fuck better’?" she asked, tilting her head. "Because honestly, it’s pathetic. You’re standing in a room full of your ancestors, bragging about your bedroom skills to a woman you just met? It’s not ’fun’, Mr. Brian. It’s desperate."

The mischievous glint in Brian’s eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, wounded ego. His jaw tightened. "Careful, Chloe. You’re a guest in this house, and I’m a prince of this bloodline. You’re just a wolfless werewolf who got lucky."

"Lucky?" Kira whispered with a sudden, suppressed rage. "You have no idea."

She looked him up and down once. "You’re right about one thing. Derek is a busy man. And I’m a busy woman. And let me make this crystal clear," she continued. "I don’t care how good you think you are in bed. I don’t care what you assume about my marriage. And I definitely don’t care about your opinion of me. You’re not entitled to my body, my secrets, or five more seconds of my attention."

She turned toward the door.

Brian’s hand shot out again, this time catching her upper arm. "I told you not to leave!" Brian barked, his voice echoing off the walls. "You think you can act however you wish because you wear his ring?"

Kira looked down at his fingers on her arm, then back up at his face. "I think," she said quietly, "that if you don’t take your hand off me right now, I’ll make sure the King knows exactly how you like to greet his wife when his back is turned."

For the first time, something uncertain flashed in his eyes. Not fear, exactly, more like cold calculation.

He let go.

Kira didn’t rub her arm as she opened the heavy door.

"I’m watching you!" he called out after her, voice venomous. "I’m going to find out what you’re hiding. And when I do, don’t expect me to be this ’gentle’ next time."

Kira ignored him, her heart hammering against her ribs as she pushed through the heavy oak doors and burst into the hallway. She didn’t run or let herself shake until she had turned the corner and was out of sight.

Only then did she press her back to the wall, close her eyes, and mutter under her breath, "Great. Another entitled prick to add to the list. At this rate I’m going to need a spreadsheet."

She exhaled hard, straightened, and kept walking.