Derek’s face tightened into a scowl the moment the question left her lips, but it lacked its usual frost. The lines around his eyes had softened, and the amber in his irises still held a trace of warmth.

"I wasn’t smiling," he grumbled, his voice a low rumble against her chest. "The light in here is playing tricks on you."

Kira let out a soft, surprised giggle. She couldn’t believe the sudden joy that bubbled up her chest at seeing his smile. "I saw it. Don’t you dare deny it, Your Grumpy Grace." She shook her head.

Derek’s jaw tightened. "I did no such thing."

"Liar," she sang softly, poking one finger against the hard plane of his chest. "It was small, but it was definitely there. Like the sun trying to peek through storm clouds. Admit it. You smiled at your contract bride."

He exhaled through his nose, a sound caught somewhere between irritation and reluctant amusement. Then, to her utter astonishment, the corner of his mouth lifted again, just a fraction, but unmistakable. The second smile was quieter, almost private, in that brief second before the mask slid back into place.

"See?! You’re doing it again!" she squealed, poking his cheek. "King Derek Wolfe, the Great Terror of the West, actually has dimples. Who would have thought?"

"I do not have dimples."

Derek let out a heavy sigh, defeated by the tiny woman in his arms. Instead of putting her down to let her walk, he tightened his grip, shifting her weight so she was nestled securely against his heart. He began to descend the staircase, his boots thudding against the wood. Kira rested her head on his shoulder, listening to the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat.

"I like warm Derek better. Warm Derek is best Derek," she muttered.

He didn’t reply to that.

Outside, the evening air carried the clean scent of the sea. The sleek black Cullinan Rolls Royce waited, door already open. Derek lowered her into the back seat with surprising care, then slid in beside her.

The drive from the salt-crusted isolation of the beach house to the looming grandeur of the Snow Crest pack house was quiet, filled only with the low hum of the engine and the occasional brush of his thigh against hers.

When they arrived, the grand pack house glowed under soft golden lights strung through carefully tended gardens. Music drifted from within—elegant strings and piano—mingling with the murmur of voices. Kira stepped out first, smoothing the front of her gown. A sudden chill raced down her spine, sharp and unwelcome, as though invisible eyes had fixed on the back of her neck. She turned quickly, scanning the arriving guests. Nothing looked out of place, only well-dressed Lycans laughing politely, and servants moving with efficiency. Yet the feeling lingered coldly.

Derek’s hand settled at the small of her back. "Are you all right?" His voice was low, meant for her ears alone.

She forced a bright smile. "Perfectly fine. Just... taking it all in."

She glanced behind her once more. Still nothing. Derek’s fingers tightened slightly around her. He leaned down, his breath brushing the shell of her ear.

"You are only nervous," he said, tone almost gentle.

"This is your first public event as my Queen. It’s natural to feel exposed when everyone is waiting to catch a glimpse of you."

Kira nodded, though the chill refused to leave her skin. She let him guide her inside.

The moment they crossed the threshold into the grand banquet hall, an announcer’s clear voice rang out.

"Welcome "His Grace, King Derek Wolfe! The Supreme Leader of the Western Packs, and Her Grace, Queen Kira Wolfe!"

The low hum of conversation died. Every head turned. Chairs scraped back as the assembled Lycans rose as one, bowing deeply. Derek held her tightly beside him, his chin high, his expression returning to that of the untouchable monarch.

When the people lifted their heads, Kira could feel the heat of the gazes following her. Some were filled with awe, some were curious, some were appraising, and many openly cool. Especially the women. To them, she was a mystery, an outsider who had captured the heart of the unshakeable King.

She kept her chin high, shoulders straight, even as she became painfully aware of how relatively small she looked compared to the towering frame of the Lycans.

Alpha Lucas approached first, a tall man with kind brown eyes and dark hair. His Luna, a graceful woman with warm brown skin and a genuine smile, followed close behind.

"Your Grace," the couple said in unison, immediately bowing their heads again. "Your Highness."

Lucas offered his hand to Derek.

"Lucas," Derek replied stiffly, accepting the Alpha’s outstretched hand with a brief clasp.

"It is an honour to host you and your queen on such short notice. We are delighted you could join us."

Derek gave only a curt nod. Lucas’ gaze shifted to Kira, and his smile became softer. "Welcome to our home, Your Highness. It’s truly a pleasure to have you here."

"The pleasure is all mine," Kira answered, offering one of her signature bright smiles as she shook his hand. Then she turned to the Lycan woman beside him and, without hesitation, stepped forward to give her a quick, warm hug.

"Permit me to say you have a very beautiful smile, Your Highness," the Luna said, eyes sparkling.

"Thank you. And you’re stunning," Kira replied sincerely. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"My name is Cassie. Welcome."

After a few more exchanged pleasantries, Lucas led them deeper into the room. Other alphas and high-ranking Lycans stepped forward one by one, offering greetings and careful congratulations.

As Lucas and Derek consulted with other Lycan Alphas, Cassie reached out, lightly grabbing Kira’s arm.

"Your Grace, if you don’t mind, I’m going to borrow the Queen for a while," Cassie said, looking toward Derek with a respectful tilt of her head. "The ladies are dying to meet her."

Derek’s expression darkened instantly. His hand, still resting at Kira’s back, tensed. "The Queen will stay with me tonight. She isn’t very—"

"Sure," Kira said with a smile directed at Cassie, interrupting him.

She turned to him, surprised by the sudden possessiveness in his tone. This was new. She rose on her toes and whispered against his ear, "I can handle myself, Derek. Go play nice with the alphas. I’ll be fine."

Derek looked like he wanted to argue. He scanned the room, as if searching for a threat. Finally, he let out a low growl of relenting, but before Kira could step away, he grabbed her wrist.

With a suddenness that made the surrounding guests gasp, he pulled her back into his space. He didn’t say a word. He simply leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead.

It wasn’t a private kiss; it was a mark. A public declaration of ownership and protection.

Kira felt her cheeks flush as she heard the frantic whispering start behind manicured hands. She was completely caught off guard by his action. This kiss wasn’t like the stiff ones he had given her back in Dravengard to deceive Nana.

He held her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Be careful and don’t trust anyone," he said, so only her could hear.

"You seem very uncomfortable. Why?" she whispered back.

"I am the king, and many people do not want me on that throne. No one here is your friend. And make sure you don’t drink wine."

Still dazed and confused Kira found herself nodding to his words.

Luna Cassie linked her arm through Kira’s and led her toward a long table where a group of women sat. Some of them were older with elegant silver hair, others were younger. From their auras, she could tell they were Lunas, wives of betas and gammas.

The moment Kira approached, the conversation quieted. Cool eyes assessed her from head to toe. Her stomach tightened, but she drew in a slow breath.

This is it, she told herself. Time to start acting like a queen. She hadn’t taken her title seriously because she didn’t want to get used to the temporary power. But she won’t come to these women as a supplicant, but as their queen. And they would give her the respect due her station.

Cassie’s voice was warm as she made the introductions. "Ladies, may I present Queen Kira Wolfe. Queen Kira, this is Luna Meredith of the Ridge Pack, Lady Elara, Lady Cherry, wife of my husband’s beta..."

Kira met their gazes head-on. She didn’t flutter her lashes or look at the floor. She stared back at each woman, one by one, refusing to break eye contact until they were the ones to blink and look away.

But Kira noticed that the Beta’s wife, Cherry, a sharp-featured woman with tightly pinned blonde hair, regarded her with open contempt. Cherry’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was a sharpness to the woman’s smile that suggested she wasn’t at all pleased to be sharing a table with a werewolf.

"We were just discussing the duties of a Luna," Cherry began, leaning back, and swirling her champagne with a look of pure contempt. "It must be difficult for you, coming from... where was it? A small pack, I think? The transition to managing a Lycan throne must be quite overwhelming for someone of your... stature."