The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 441

Chapter 441: I Barely Held Myself Still

[Meredith].

Draven’s gaze stayed fixed on me, unreadable and far too perceptive.

"Why does your grandmother want to see you on such an auspicious day?" he asked.

That question was too close to the mark. However, I forced a small shrug. "I don’t know."

And for once, it wasn’t a lie.

I had guesses, guesses tied to the Lunar Curse, to my wolf, to things my grandmother had hinted at for years. But I couldn’t say any of that, not when I had no idea how much she wanted me to reveal.

Draven didn’t respond. He simply nodded, slow and faintly knowing, as if my answer had confirmed something for him rather than hidden it.

The silence stretched too long, so I exhaled and spoke more formally, "I will be going to see her in five days."

His eyes flickered. "Where does she live?"

"The outskirts of the Moonstone pack."

"And why there—" Then he stopped himself, nodding as if the answer clicked into place.

"Right. You said she values her privacy."

Relief loosened something tight in my chest. But then, he spoke again.

"Of course you can visit her," he said with a soft smile. "But I will come with you."

My heart lurched at his second statement. I straightened instinctively. "No— I mean... it’s not necessary."

My excuse was useless.

Draven’s brows lifted. "How can I allow my mate—my queen, to travel that far alone?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks, as irritation and panic tangled together. Still, I tried again.

"She doesn’t know you," I insisted. "She will be uncomfortable with you appearing unannounced."

Draven didn’t even flinch. "I married you without meeting her once," he replied. "It is long overdue that I greet the woman who raised my mate."

I shook my head quickly. "Another time—"

"No," he said simply warmly, and immovably. "But if you feel she will be uncomfortable, then send her a letter. Tell her I will be accompanying you."

I blinked at his statement which I found too blatant. But the next second, I understood that this could be a test.

Because what kind of woman asks permission from her grandmother before bringing her own husband? Unless she had something to hide.

I refused to fall for it. "There’s no need for that," I said firmly.

Draven smirked—the kind of knowing smirk that made me want to wrap myself in iron and shield every secret I had.

"Don’t be mad," he murmured.

"I’m not," I said instantly.

Then, he stepped closer, reached out, and pinched my nose lightly before I could dodge.

I scowled and swatted at his hand, but he withdrew before I could touch him.

"See?" he said, his eyes warm, amused. "I was right. You are mad."

I narrowed my eyes at him, even though the corner of my mouth betrayed me with the faintest twitch.

And Draven’s smirk deepened because he knew he had caught me. But a moment later, his voice came out soft.

"Don’t be mad at me," he murmured. A quiet sigh escaped him as he looked away, his jaw tightening for the briefest second.

"I have a feeling your grandmother is already mad at me. Especially for the way I forced you into marriage."

Before I could protest, he leaned in and kissed one cheek then the other, slow and warm.

My hands quickly flew up to hold his arms, stopping him before he could go any further.

"Not now," I breathed. "Wait until tonight."

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto mine while still holding my face in his hands.

"And what if I’m not in the mood tonight?"

"Then you can have me the next time you want me."

Draven lowered his voice, deep and intimate, leaning toward my ear.

"Do you remember," he whispered, "how many nights you were in heat... begging for me? And how I always satisfied you?"

Instantly, heat spread across the back of my neck like wildfire. My breath caught in my throat.

Yes, I remembered every single moment he was referring to. And yet, I wasn’t going to let him win this easily.

"You say it like I was the only one who benefited from those nights," I murmured back. "Didn’t you enjoy it even more than I did?"

His posture shifted knowingly. Then, he leaned back just enough to meet my gaze properly, his eyes dark with a mixture of amusement and hunger.

"This," he said with a low voice, "is not the time to argue."

Then his fingers slid down to my jaw. "Whatever you say," he added, "is right."

His tone, the way he looked at me...

If I kept pushing him, he would lose the last thread of patience he was holding onto, and a shameful part of me wanted exactly that.

I barely held myself still.