Defying the Lycan King-Chapter 33: Soulbonds

Kira honestly didn’t know whether she was ready, angry, or simply losing her mind. She definitely needed to get used to this. She must have nodded, because Derek reached down between them and guided himself to her entrance. Before she could draw a full breath to brace herself, he thrust forward in one steady motion, filling her completely. The stretch was immediate and overwhelming—wide, burning, setting every nerve in her body alight from the inside out.

"Derek!"

He let out a low, approving growl as his mouth trailed lines of heat across her collarbone and throat. "Wrap your legs around me."

She did it without thinking, ankles locking at the small of his back while her body arched instinctively toward what was coming. He captured her hands, pinned them above her head, and laced their fingers together in a tight grip. Then he withdrew slowly, agonisingly slowly, before slamming back in. Kira cried out, eyes rolling back as insane pleasure ripped through her, blasting every coherent thought from her mind.

In that moment nothing else existed. The contract, the heir, the open marriage, all of it dissolved. There was only this wild, consuming heat and her body screaming for more... more... more. She craved his mouth everywhere, on her skin, her nipples, her lips. She wanted him to kiss her until her thoughts scattered completely, but for some reason, he avoided her seeking mouth as though it were forbidden territory.

His thick length drove deep again and again, relentless. She needed him closer, skin pressed to skin, no space left between them. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot where a mate mark should sit. In the haze of mind-melting bliss, all she wanted was for him to bite down, to claim her truly and irrevocably. But his teeth retreated, replaced by the slow stroke of his tongue over that same patch of skin as his rhythm quickened—faster, harder, more urgent. When she lifted her hips to meet him, begging silently for everything he could give, a deep, vibrating growl tore from his chest and shoved her straight over the edge. Her consciousness shattered. Her inner walls clenched around him in wave after shuddering wave.

Derek’s head flung back on a raw roar of triumph and release. His hips snapped forward with powerful, urgent thrusts. Once. Twice. Inside her pulsing heat, she felt him swell impossibly thicker, and on the third deep drive, he came undone. His grip crushed her hands as his shaft flexed and jerked inside her until every ounce of strength left his muscles. He collapsed on top of her, spent and breathless, his weight pinning her to the mattress.

Kira was so wrecked by the pleasure that her eyelids grew impossibly heavy. She was drifting toward sleep when he finally released her hands and eased out of her.

"Give me a son, Kira," he muttered.

Those were the last words she registered before darkness swallowed her whole.

***

She woke feeling... surprisingly good. The sheets were luxuriously soft against her bare skin, her body felt loose and thoroughly recalibrated, and there was only a faint, pleasant throb between her thighs. Each small movement of her hips sent a quick flash of memory through her core; heat, fullness, that shattering release, and her inner muscles clenched involuntarily at the recollection. She was naked and alone in the royal bed. This was the first time she had actually slept in Derek’s bed; until now she had stubbornly refused to share it at night, even after her belongings had been moved into his bedroom.

For a fleeting second, she thought he must have slipped out before she woke. Typical, she supposed, for men like him. She stretched lazily, one hand brushing across the expanse of mattress beside her. The sheets were cold, untouched, as though no one had slept there at all.

"Didn’t even sleep here, then?" she muttered. The image of Ruby’s hands on his shoulders from the night before flashed behind her eyes. She shoved it away, refusing to let it settle. "So much for playing the happy couple."

She was just about to swing her legs over the side of the bed when the door opened. Derek strode in, looking annoyingly perfect in charcoal-grey gym gear that hugged every line of muscle. Of course he did. He looked unfairly good in everything, and she realised, with a small jolt that she was noticing it more sharply now.

"Morning," Kira said, sliding her feet into her slippers.

"You’re late for training," he replied, ignoring the greeting entirely.

Kira paused, studying him. He had slipped straight back into that cold, aloof mask, every trace of last night’s raw hunger gone. But she doesn’t give a damn either. "I’m going to school," she said, heading towards the en suite.

"Your first class isn’t until twelve."

She stopped and turned. "How on earth do you know my timetable?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he placed a neatly folded set of sportswear on the foot of the bed and set a small bottle of coconut oil beside it. "This is your training kit and coconut oil. I heard it helps with soreness. Get ready and come downstairs in ten minutes."

Kira stared at the clothes and the bottle, then back at him. "I don’t feel sore. You don’t have to treat me like fragile porcelain. And I’m not training with you."

He studied her for a long second, his expression as unreadable as ever. "You seem to keep forgetting we’re supposed to be playing a convincing couple in front of the entire pack."

’And you seem to have forgotten that you were practically cuddling with your mistress in the kitchen last night. What would the pack say seeing her all draped over you?’ she wanted to snap. But she swallowed the words, refusing to sound jealous. She wasn’t.

Derek pulled a sleek black card from his pocket and set it beside the clothes. "This is limitless. Use it for whatever you want. I will see you in ten."

He turned to leave, then paused in the doorway and looked back at her. "From today onwards, we will leave in the same vehicle."

Kira rolled her eyes but said nothing.

He didn’t react to that, "And we should text each other during the day when we are not together. And for goddess’ sake, put some more effort into the acting."

"I’m not pretending for another second until you tell me why I’m supposed to sell this lie to everyone."

He glared at her, but she didn’t flinch.

"I’m rubbish at faking things," she continued. "If I have to do this, I need to know why. As far as I’m concerned, this marriage was forced on me, and I’m not going to skip around pretending I’m thrilled about it."

His jaw flexed. "Fine," he growled. "Listen closely, because I’m only saying this once. My throne is on the line here. I’m required to be married to claim it fully at the coronation. Happy now?"

"Is that why you picked a werewolf? Don’t you care about finding your soulmate?"

"Lycans don’t recognise their mates instantly the way your kind do."

She frowned. "What does that even mean?"

She had never heard this before. Lycan lore had never interested her much. "So you’re wired like humans, then?"

Derek shook his head, his posture relaxing slightly. "We have soulbonds. We don’t feel it at first sight, but if two Lycans feel a connection, they can either test the bond during the Red Moon ceremony or try marking each other. If their souls bind, they’re mates."

"And if they don’t?"

Derek’s expression shifted, as if he had said too much. "Then they either stay together if they are in love or part ways until they find the real bond. Now, get ready and get downstairs."

Without another word or glance back, he walked out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaving her standing there with half an explanation and a sudden, sharp curiosity burning in her chest. She scowled.

"Why start an explanation you had no intention of finishing?"