Defying the Lycan King

Chapter 66: A Wise Distance

Defying the Lycan King

Chapter 66: A Wise Distance

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Chapter 66: A Wise Distance

"How sure are you about this?" Derek asked.

He was on a secure FaceTime call with Declan, Connor, and their man in Moonfang, alone in his study that evening. Kira had gone down to the shore for a walk to breathe in the evening air. Alistar had not shown his face since morning, and Flora had prepared dinner before slipping away early.

Their granddaughter’s crisis must have taken a turn for the worse again, a fact that stirred a rare flicker of empathy in his chest. He made a mental note to check on them before this "honeymoon" reached its end, it was the least a King could do for such loyal subjects.

But for now, their absence gave him some breathing space.

Kira, in her usual cheeky fashion, had asked him to join her on the walk along the seashore, but he had rather stay away from her than spend more time in her company. He never wanted to get used to being close to her. He knew this trip was designed to force them together, to make them "used" to one another, but Derek was too serious to waste his time on mundane things. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"Yes, Your Grace," the man named Bruce replied. "We can’t tell for sure how long this rogue army had been growing. And we can’t confirm if they belong to Rolf yet; there’s been no direct movement from his camp."

Derek stared at the notations on the map displayed on his tablet, a small red pointer marking a particular location in the mountain areas surrounding the eastern werewolf packs, only a few miles from the border of Moonfang.

Their agents in the werewolf territories had just uncovered the growing force. No clear link to Rolf or any of the Eastern alphas had been detected yet, but Derek knew the breed too well; werewolves were masters of the long game, hiding their daggers behind smiles.

He was taking no chances. In fact, he had braced himself for Rolf’s retaliation the moment he took Kira, and he had his men watching the alpha like a hawk ever since.

"Dispatch more scouts to their territories immediately, Connor," Derek commanded. "And Bruce, watch Rolf’s every breath. If he so much as blinks out of turn, I want to know. Same as the other Eastern Alphas. We must not be taken by surprise."

"Yes, Your Grace," Connor and Bruce replied in unison.

"The meeting is over," Derek said.

Connor and Bruce disconnected, but Declan remained on the line. Derek’s brows drew together when he saw his beta still there. He already knew what was coming.

"There is much to be done, Declan," Derek said, cutting him off before he could speak. "If an army of rogues is growing in the mountains, then we should be prepared for battle. We don’t wait for them to knock."

"I know my job, Derek," Declan replied, his tone laced with cynicism.

"I’m glad you do."

"You know that’s not why I’m still on the line."

"Not now, Declan," Derek groaned, reaching for the bottle of whiskey across his desk and pouring himself a generous measure.

"I’m just worried about you," Declan said flatly. "I’ve seen this before. I don’t want to lose you to another lie."

Derek sighed and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He didn’t blame Declan for the bitterness, instead, he understood his friend and Beta perfectly. The man had lost everything and everyone during the last war, used and betrayed by a werewolf woman.

He had fought tooth and nail against this union and against Derek’s plan for a revenge bride from the onset, convinced they were only playing into the hands of werewolves, after all, that breed had a history of betraying them. So, Declan’s deep mistrust of even the weakest werewolf was more than justified.

Derek felt blessed to surround himself with people who cared about him, people who were willing to lay down their lives for his. Jasper had done that, and Declan had shown in more than one way that he deeply cared for him and their kind.

"I appreciate your concern, Declan," he said, and meant it. "But you have to trust me on this."

But even as the words left his mouth, Kira’s bright smile flashed in the back of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and tossed back the whiskey in one burning swallow.

"Just be careful," Declan warned. "Whatever she does, don’t trust her. Don’t let that sunshine personality blind you to what she is."

"Yes, Father," Derek joked, a rare one. "You have nothing to worry about."

"How about your sleep? Has it improved?" Declan asked.

He shook his head. "Still caught in the loop."

His photographic memory won’t let him forget that particular night.

Once the call ended, he leaned back in his chair and let out a long, heavy sigh. Declan was right to be wary. Every passing day, the walls he had built were thinning. He caught himself loosening up around her, finding her "bratty" antics more amusing than annoying. He had even caught himself watching that ridiculous video she had sent an embarrassing number of times.

Ever since the day he had claimed her, that tipsy night he had buried himself deep inside her and felt her spirit meet his, his control had been in tatters. His beast, Leo, had gone absolutely feral. Her scent alone was enough to make him lose his grip on reality, and his body... his body was a traitor.

Even now, the front of his trousers felt tight. He swore softly under his breath. All it took was a single thought of the little wolf and he grew hard as stone. It was dangerous. It was weak.

He rose to his feet and poured another finger of whiskey. She was just a womb to bear his child, he reminded himself again. Any attachment, even a sexual one, was a thread Rolf could pull to destroy him. He stalked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, glass in hand.

And even now, knowing he should keep an emotional distance, his eyes searched for her along the shoreline. There she was, walking barefoot on the sand, arms folded across her chest, the evening wind tossing her hair about.

The moment he laid eyes on her, he felt that strange tug in his chest, a quiet yearning to go to her, to walk beside her and simply bask in that warmth she carried so effortlessly. But before the instinct could take root, logic slammed the door. A wise distance, he told himself. Always.

He downed the rest of his drink, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction from the burn in his chest, and turned his back on the window.

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