The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 53

Chapter 53: Her Life Flashed Before Her Eyes

(Third Person POV).

"And let you brag about it for months to come?" Draven asked, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "No, brother. I couldn’t afford it." He dismounted with a single, fluid motion—his boots hitting the earth with a quiet thud.

Another warrior rushed to take his horse. Draven handed over the reins wordlessly, his gaze already sweeping the small gathering.

And then—it landed on Meredith.

She sat under the umbrella, her posture elegant and still, framed by the sunlight. Her eyes were unreadable, cool as a winter sea.

But even from this distance, he could feel the wall between them.

For a heartbeat, Draven considered walking straight to her.

But he didn’t.

He turned instead, retrieving a bottle of water from a small cooler one of the servants held out, and drank deeply.

Dennis, however, had no such hesitation.

He strode toward Meredith with the easy arrogance of someone who had never been afraid of making a fool of himself.

His smile grew wider the closer he got, and from her expression, it was obvious Meredith saw him coming—and didn’t appreciate it.

Meredith folded her hands neatly in her lap, her chin tilting up slightly as Dennis stopped in front of her.

"Well, what do you think, my lady?" Dennis grinned. "Are you impressed?"

Kira and Deidra exchanged amused glances from behind Meredith.

Azul, ever polite, kept her head bowed slightly.

Meredith, on the other hand, looked up at Dennis with a cool, measured stare. "What is there to think about?"

Deidra coughed into her palm, barely suppressing a laugh.

Dennis placed a hand dramatically over his heart.

"You wound me, Lady Meredith. I thought we were becoming friends."

"You would have to first enchant me," she said without missing a beat.

At that, Dennis threw back his head and laughed, a sound so loud and bright that several of the nearby warriors turned to glance at him.

And from across the lawn, Draven watched. He couldn’t hear their words, but he could see the interaction.

Dennis’s easy grin. Meredith’s guarded face, the flicker of annoyance in her posture. And it stirred something in him.

Something he wasn’t ready to name.

Without thinking, Draven began walking toward them. The crowd parted instinctively at his approach. Even the air seemed to grow thicker.

Dennis saw him coming and flashed a wide, innocent grin.

"Dear brother," Dennis called loudly enough for the others to hear. "Your wife is as terrifying as you are. I approve!"

Meredith tensed slightly, feeling like smacking the back of his head.

Draven slowed to a stop just a few steps away from her seat. His shadow fell across the hem of her dress.

For a long second, no one spoke.

Then, with the smooth authority only he could wield, Draven said simply, "Return to the house."

His words were directed at Dennis—but his eyes, his unreadable, burning gaze—remained fixed on Meredith.

From the shade of the second umbrella, Wanda watched.

Her nails dug into her palms beneath the folds of her dress, a sweet, poisoned smile plastered across her lips.

Meredith, again, was once the focal oint, drawing the Oatrun brothers’ attention without lifting a single finger.

Dennis laughing. Draven watching.

Like she was someone important. Like she belonged here.

In a blur of motion, he was there.

His arm slammed around Meredith’s waist, jerking her body against his just as the stallion’s hooves crashed down on the spot where she had stood.

The ground shook.

The horse screamed.

Meredith clutched Draven’s jacket instinctively, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Draven’s face was tight, furious. His body was a wall around her, shielding her completely as he backed them both swiftly away.

The warriors raced after the wild horse, finally managing to subdue it.

In the stunned silence that followed, Wanda rose from her chair, pressing a hand to her mouth in fake horror.

Xamira wringed her small hands nervously as she stared at the chaos she had caused.

And Meredith—still pressed against Draven’s side—felt the weight of his furious heartbeat against her cheek.

He didn’t let go. Not immediately.

Not until he was sure she was safe.

The tension on the lawn was thick enough to choke on.

Meredith finally found her footing and pushed lightly against Draven’s chest. Only then did he let her go—reluctantly, as if still not convinced she wouldn’t collapse.

Meredith refused to look at him. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. But her heart was hammering so loud, she feared everyone could hear it.

Draven turned, his face darkening into a storm as he swept his furious gaze across the gathered crowd.

"Who," he said, voice low and dangerous, "unleashed the horse?"

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