The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 502

Chapter 502: Valmora Wants Control

[Meredith].

I walked back into the bedroom quietly, closing the door behind me with care. The room was dim, lit only by the pale spill of moonlight through the window.

Draven lay asleep on the bed, his breathing slow and even, the rise and fall of his chest steady.

Guilt pressed heavily against my ribs.

I had learned too much tonight. About myself. About my power. About who I truly was. And I was lying beside a man who trusted me with his life, yet knew none of it.

I didn’t plan to keep it from him for long.

When we returned to the Oatrun estate, I would tell him. About the fae blood in my veins. About the truth of the so-called curse. About the Wolf Queen and what her reincarnation truly meant. He deserved that honesty.

He merited to choose how he felt about it—about me, without deception clouding his will.

I crossed the room and sat at the edge of the bed, removing my slippers, my thoughts spiralling despite the exhaustion weighing down my limbs.

"You are hesitating," Valmora’s voice slipped into my mind, restless and sharp.

"I’m thinking," I answered silently.

"You are holding back," she pressed. "Let me lead."

I frowned slightly, lowering myself onto the mattress. "Why do you want that so badly?"

There was a pause, though brief, but telling.

"Because I’ve been here longer than you," Valmora said. "I’ve watched rulers rise and fall. I know the cost of mistakes you haven’t even imagined yet."

I closed my eyes for a moment. "And you think I should just follow?" I asked.

"I think you should trust me."

I went quiet for a few seconds. Then I said carefully, "I will think about it."

Almost immediately, her presence bristled at that. "You don’t trust me?"

I turned onto my side, facing the window, the moonlight cool against my skin. "You know, you actually sound desperate," I replied honestly. "And you are trying too hard to prove something."

This time, Valmora didn’t argue. "Get some rest," she said at last, flatly, restrainedly, and then she withdrew.

The silence that followed felt heavier than her voice.

I exhaled slowly and lay back, pulling the covers up, my body finally surrendering to fatigue even as my mind refused to quiet completely.

Moments later, warmth surrounded me.

Draven shifted in his sleep, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling me back against him with an unconscious certainty that stole my breath. His hand settled at my stomach, his forehead resting against the back of my neck.

I smiled despite everything.

He must have sensed my return—my warmth, even in his sleep. Instinct had drawn him closer.

I relaxed into his embrace, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing ground me.

’Just a little longer,’ I thought. ’Let me have this peace... just a little longer.’

’So this is how he feels,’ I thought suddenly.

The village was still asleep, wrapped in silver-blue shadows. Lanterns had burned low, and the moon lingered in the sky, pale and watchful.

I paused just beyond the house, really listening. There were no footsteps and voices. No movement beyond the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of something nocturnal retreating from the coming dawn.

Satisfied, I moved farther from the house, toward the edge where trees thickened, and the land opened into quiet wilderness.

My heart pounded with anticipation. Then I slipped out of my robe and let it fall over a low branch, then stepped onto the cool grass.

The earth felt different beneath my feet now—familiar, welcoming, like it recognized me.

Next, I closed my eyes and let go.

The shift came smoothly, shockingly so. There was no tearing pain, no burning of bone or skin, just like my first shift yesterday.

There was no agony like the stories I had heard whispered growing up—no screams, no broken breath. Instead, warmth rippled through me, fluid and effortless, like slipping beneath the surface of deep water.

My senses expanded in a rush as the world sharpened.

When my paws met the ground, I sucked in a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I was whole... once again.

I lowered my head and stared at myself, at the sleek silver fur that caught the moonlight like frost, at the strength coiled in my limbs.

I shifted my weight experimentally, half-expecting pain to catch up to me, but there was nothing except power.

’Why doesn’t it hurt?’ I wondered distantly. ’Why does it feel like I was always meant to do this?’

Before I could overthink it, instinct surged forward impatiently. And I ran.