Later that evening, after Kira had returned from The Central, she and Derek were in their shared bedroom, getting ready for the dinner which Alpha Lucas of the Snow Crest pack had invited them to. The bedroom was quiet except for the distant hush of waves outside the open balcony doors.

Kira sat at the vanity in nothing but a towel wrapped tightly around her body, hair still damp from the shower, as she applied her makeup.

Derek emerged from the walk-in closet already dressed in a sharp, dark tuxedo that sat perfectly on his broad shoulders, making him look like something pulled straight from a fashion magazine. He moved with that same controlled grace he always had, adjusting one cuff without a word.

She watched him in the mirror. Her eyes followed the way the jacket hugged his frame, the clean line of his jaw, the way his dark hair was swept away from his forehead. Heat crept up her neck. She remembered the first time she had seen him, the day he had saved her from a rogue by the river at Moonfang.

Back then, she had thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, and he terrified her. Now the memory made something warm and fluttery stir low in her stomach. He was still the most handsome man she had seen, but less terrifying.

Why does he have to look so damn fine in everything? she thought, biting the inside of her cheek. It isn’t fair.

His eyes lifted towards the mirror, and she quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be so busy with her makeup. Derek crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa near the window. He picked up a magazine, crossed one long leg over the other, and opened it. The pages rustled as he began to read, or at least pretended to.

Kira’s gaze drifted back to him. She couldn’t help it. Since their conversation on the deck, their first real "heart-to-heart"— if you could call it that—the image of the ruthless, cold-blooded King was cracking. She had seen a glimpse of him that wasn’t the ruthless Lycan King everyone whispered about. She had seen the one who had hidden behind loss and grief to launch grenades.

She couldn’t tell the weight of his pain, and couldn’t heal him either. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could fix whatever darkness lived inside him. But she wished, more than she wanted to admit, that he could see there was more to life than vengeance and contracts and endless work. There could be quiet nights like this. There could be someone who looked at him without fear.

Without lifting his eyes from the magazine, Derek spoke, voice low and dry. "If you intend to compliment my looks, you should probably just do so instead of staring at me as if you plan to devour me before the dinner party even starts."

Heat flooded Kira’s cheeks. She had been caught. Her heart gave a hard, embarrassed thud. She snapped her gaze away so fast, fumbling with her makeup kit. "I wasn’t staring," she muttered, but the lie felt weak even to her own ears. She pushed up from the vanity stool and hurried into the walk-in closet, cheeks still burning.

Inside the closet, the air was cooler, scented faintly with citrus and the light perfume Flora had chosen earlier. She reached for the dress Flora had helped her pick out—a stunning, floor-length gown in a deep emerald green. It was beautiful, but as Kira stepped into it and pulled it up, she realised she had made a terrible mistake.

The dress featured a series of ties that crisscrossed down her bare back.

"Damn it," she hissed, reaching over her shoulder. Her fingers brushed the strings, but she couldn’t get the leverage to pull the first knot tight. She tried reaching from below, then from above again, her face twisting in frustration. She cursed under her breath. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"Stupid dress," she whispered, regretting for the tenth time that she had let Flora talk her into it. Flora wasn’t here to help, and the first tie sat high between her shoulder blades, impossible to reach properly. She tried again, arms aching, frustration building.

Large, warm palms suddenly cupped her bare shoulders from behind.

Kira startled, a small gasp escaping her lips. She tried to turn, but the hands held her gently in place.

"Let me," Derek said softly.

His voice was close, right by her ear. The low timbre sent a shiver racing down her spine. His fingers brushed her skin as he took the ties carefully. The touch was light, but it felt electric. Citrus and something darker; warm cedar and the faint trace of his aftershave, wrapped around her. She felt the solid heat of his chest near her back, not quite touching, yet close enough that she could sense every breath he took.

What is wrong with me? Kira thought, heart hammering so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Since when do I melt at his touch? But when had he ever touched me like this?

An involuntary shudder ran through her body each time his fingers grazed her skin. The dress tightened slowly as he worked the strings up, pulling the fabric snug against her ribs. She felt a sudden urge to... lean back. To let her weight fall against the solid, warm wall of his chest. She scolded herself silently, cheeks flaming hotter. This was infatuation, nothing more.

They had been stuck together for weeks. He had shown her one rare, almost-kind moment on the deck with the beer and the quiet conversation. It was normal for her to feel attraction. When the shock of her childhood memories finally wore off, whatever this strange pull was would fade. It had to.

Derek cleared his throat. "Are you cold?"

"No," Kira answered, far too quickly. Her voice came out breathy. She swallowed hard. "I’m fine."

"You’re shaking."

"I’m not shaking," she said, defiant even as another small tremor ran through her.

She could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin fabric now, steady and sure. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She had sworn to herself, and to him, in her own stubborn way, that she would never catch feelings for this man. Yet here she was, almost shattering to pieces while he tied her dress, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and see if his eyes looked as soft as his voice had sounded.

Derek finished the tie and slowly stepped back, giving her space. The loss of his touch left a cool, empty space along her spine. Kira took a shaky breath, her hands flying to the front of her dress to smooth down the silk.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She kept her back to him, trying to hide the blush that refused to fade.

Derek gave a short nod. His face was its usual unreadable mask, but something flickered in his eyes, gone too quickly for her to name. He turned away first, walking back toward the sofa as if the moment had never happened.

Kira stood there a second longer, fingers brushing the place on her back where his hands had been. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the delicate necklace from the drawer—a simple golden chain with a small moonstone pendant Flora had chosen to match the dress. She walked out to the bedroom and held it out toward him, the chain dangling between her fingers.

"Could you... help me with this, too?" she asked.