The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 415

Chapter 415: Playing Tricks on Him

[Meredith]

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering, but before I could answer, Draven turned away with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Come," he said again, as if nothing had happened. "You need to have a breather before breakfast."

And just like that, he was walking down the hall again, leaving me to gather what was left of my composure before following him.

Draven’s pace slowed as we reached the end of the corridor. When he opened the double doors, I froze for a heartbeat. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The room beyond was enormous, spanning the length of what could have been two smaller chambers combined.

Light spilt in through tall windows, glinting off polished stone and dark oak furnishings.

The bed, centred against the far wall, was large enough for three people to sleep without touching.

"This is where you sleep?" I asked, my voice half curious, half incredulous.

Draven gave a short hum in response as he stuffed his hands inside his pants pockets.

I wandered further in, taking it all in—the carved posts of the bed, the pale linen sheets, the dark furs draped at its edge. The quiet elegance of it all.

It was so him. Clean. Controlled. Expansive. And yet, so empty.

I turned back towards him, one brow raised. "Tell me," I said, trying to hide the amusement in my voice, "how is it that only you sleep on such a large bed? Don’t you ever feel... cold?"

Draven paused. Then he looked up at me, a faint glimmer in his eyes that warned me he had caught the teasing in my tone.

The next moment, he crossed the distance between us slowly, his steps deliberate. When he reached me, his hand slid gently to my waist.

"Not in the past," he said quietly, the warmth of his breath brushing against my ear. "But now that I have you, it’s possible to freeze to death sleeping all alone on it."

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. It was soft, surprised, and genuine.

"You can’t be serious," I said, though my voice came out lighter than I intended.

He tilted his head, his lips curving faintly. "I am."

Then his hand moved slightly, his thumb tracing a circle against my side as he leaned in closer. The distance between us all but vanished; his intent was unmistakable.

But before his lips could touch mine, I stepped back quickly.

"Not now," I said, shaking my head. "I need a shower first."

His brows rose slightly, the faintest amusement crossing his face. "A shower?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "A long one. I want to wash away everything—the dirt, the blood, the smell of Duskmoor."

Something flickered in his gaze at the mention of that name, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he reached out and brushed his fingers against my jaw, a quiet acknowledgement before he turned away and gestured toward a door at the far end of the room.

"This way," he said.

I followed him through a short passage until we reached the bathing chambers. The door opened into a wide space of smooth stone and silver fixtures, the air faintly perfumed with the scent of herbs and warm steam.

The bath was already filling, the sound of running water echoing softly off the walls.

Draven glanced back at me. "Before you are done," he said, "the servants will have finished bringing our things up from the convoy. Clothes, jewellery, everything we brought from Duskmoor. They will arrange them in the dressing room."

I nodded, my chest tightening slightly at the word our.

He lingered a moment longer, his gaze softening before he turned toward the door.

When he left, the quiet returned, filled only by the sound of the water spilling into the bath.

I felt the weight of exhaustion sink into my bones. I untied my cloak, let it fall to the floor, and breathed in deeply—trying to remember what peace was supposed to feel like.

Then, I sank slowly into the bath, letting the water embrace me until it reached my shoulders. The heat worked its way through the knots in my body, easing tension I hadn’t realized I still carried.

I closed my eyes, leaning back against the edge of the bath. But peace had a way of stirring what I would rather forget.

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