The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 488

Chapter 488: Only She Can Give Me

[Meredith].

I lifted the cup again, letting the warmth steady my hands before I took another slow sip. Then, carefully, I asked, "What about your mother?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, arms folded loosely, dark eyes watching me with that sharp attentiveness that never missed anything.

"Are you asking about," he said slowly, "the same person who attacked you today?"

His tone wasn’t harsh, just painfully honest.

I shook my head. "It’s not her fault. She just needs someone who can listen to her."

Draven almost laughed in disbelief. "That doesn’t work," he said. "For how long did you listen to her? Ten minutes? Fifteen?" His jaw flexed. "And she still attacked you."

I sighed, lowering my gaze to the tea. "I think your mother hates your father very much."

Draven’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did—a flicker of confusion or discomfort.

I continued softly, "Do you know why?"

"No." His voice was flat, resolute. "For as long as I’ve known, she has always quarrelled with him. Everything just became worse after she got sick."

I hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Draven... were your parents mates?"

His dark eyes lifted directly to mine immediately. "I know why you are asking that," he said. "Let me guess... my mother said something about my father."

I nodded.

He exhaled, looking away briefly before returning his gaze to me.

"She always talks badly about him. That hasn’t changed over the years." His voice dropped a little, thoughtful. "One of the times they argued, I asked him that question myself."

I leaned in slightly. "And?"

"He said yes. They are mates."

I stared at him, processing that. "It’s strange," I murmured. "I haven’t seen a situation like theirs before."

Draven didn’t disagree.

I took another sip of tea, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue before I looked at him again.

"But," I continued quietly, "I suppose it’s not that strange. After all... someone hated me enough to dishonour me publicly at a formal event—before you walked in."

Draven’s expression sharpened instantly. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened, and his aura shifted subtly.

He remembered exactly who I meant—Marc, the rejection—the humiliation. The night my life changed. And the night Draven walked in and changed it again.

The air between us tightened, charged with something unspoken.

Just then, he leaned in slightly, close enough that I could feel the weight of his attention settle fully on me.

"Meredith," he said, voice low, controlled, but edged with something fierce, "don’t compare yourself to my parents."

I blinked slowly.

He continued, "You didn’t deserve what happened to you. They—" His jaw clenched again. "—chose that madness. You didn’t."

His words should have comforted me. But instead, my chest tightened because I knew far more truths than he did now.

Truths that could shatter him. Truths I wasn’t ready to voice. So, I simply lowered my gaze and whispered, "I know."

’I have to see her again. I need answers. The kind only she can give. But Draven can never know that, maybe not for a long time.’

His eyes narrowed slightly in that quiet, frustrated concern, but something else settled there too. Resolve.

Finally, his shoulders eased just a little, and he exhaled. "Fine," he murmured. "If you insist on visiting her, I will accompany you every time."

I wasn’t surprised. I was actually expecting him to say that. But gently, I shook my head. "No, Draven."

His brows drew together immediately. "Meredith—"

"I appreciate it," I cut in softly. "Truly. But you can’t always be there every time I visit her."

My voice stayed calm, steady. "And I don’t want you worrying yourself sick over me."

He frowned deeper, clearly not liking where this was going.

I continued anyway. "If anything happens, I will protect myself. I won’t black out in shock again." A soft breath. "And whatever happens in that room, I will bear the responsibility."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He hated my refusal, my reassurance, all of it. But he listened. He always listened, even when he disagreed.

"Meredith," he finally murmured, voice low, "you’re asking me to trust you with something unpredictable."

"I know," I whispered. "And you can."

His gaze barely warmed, but I saw the slight shift in his aura—a quiet acceptance trying to form.

And because I didn’t want the air between us heavy with fear and forbidden truths anymore, I slipped into something lighter.

I nudged his knee gently with mine.

"You look tired," I teased. "Were you pacing outside my door, worrying about me the whole time?"