The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 318

Chapter 318: The Hunger Clawing at Me
Meredith.

My skin tingled, overly sensitive, and when I thought of Draven, his hands on my face earlier, his mouth on mine, the way his voice dropped low when he teased me, the warmth surged so suddenly I had to clench my fists into the blanket.

Valmora’s words from the car echoed in my head. ‘You will go into heat tonight.’

I let out a shaky breath. “So this is what you meant,” I whispered to myself.

It wasn’t just nerves attacking me. It was hunger, curling deep inside me, demanding and growing.

But it wasn’t unbearable, at least not yet. Instead, it gave me an odd sense of power—like a whisper daring me to stop holding back.

I imagined sitting beside Draven at dinner and not looking away from his piercing gaze. I imagined leaning closer, speaking first, maybe even catching him off-guard for once.

The thought made me smile and blush all at once.

A knock at the door startled me, one of the maids announcing that dinner would be ready soon.

I answered softly, then looked at myself through my phone’s camera. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes brighter than usual, almost glowing.

I felt different—alive and restless. Ready to test myself against the man waiting downstairs.

—

A few minutes later, I stepped out of my room once I was dressed, but the warmth in my body refused to settle.

The simple dress I wore felt like it clung too much, like it was drawing attention I wasn’t used to. My pulse was quicker than normal, but I kept my chin up as I descended the stairs.

Halfway down on the last staircase, the door to Draven’s study opened. He stepped out and shut it behind him. And his eyes immediately found me.

For a moment, he just watched, his gaze steady and unreadable, but it made the heat in me flare higher.

“You are ready,” he said, his tone calm, but there was something else in his voice. Something heavier.

I nodded, trying to ignore how flustered I felt under that gaze. “Yes.”

As I reached the final step, he approached me. His calm, self-possessed and purposeful manner unsettled me more than if he had spoken a hundred words.

“You look flushed,” he observed, his hand lifting as though he meant to check my forehead.

I froze instantly, my heart leaping to my throat as he lightly brushed the back of his fingers across my cheek, and the contact nearly caused my knees to weaken.

“It’s nothing,” I said hurriedly, forcing a small smile. “Probably just from rushing to get ready.”

He studied me longer than I could bear, as if he could see through the excuse. But just then, his hand dropped, lingering near my jaw before pulling away.

“If you say so.” His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, more like he had caught on to something but chose to leave it alone.

I couldn’t stop myself from meeting his gaze. I didn’t look away this time no matter how restless the warmth in my chest was.

“Let’s go,” Draven finally said, offering his arm.

I slipped my hand through. His strength under my palm steadied me, but also fed that heat crawling up my skin as we made our way to the dining hall.

When we arrived at the hall, the doors opened, and as usual, everyone inside stood up. Chairs scraped back against the floor in unison.

Draven didn’t even pause; his presence was enough. He walked straight to the head of the dining table, and I followed him, sliding into the seat at his right after he sat.

The others, Dennis, Jeffery, Gary, and Mabel, reclaimed their seats once Draven gave the slightest nod. The servants moved quickly, setting out the first course.

If it were any other day, I would focus on my plate, blending into the rhythm of the meal. But tonight was different.

Every time Draven reached for his glass or moved his hand near mine, the heat inside me seemed to spike.

I picked up my fork and forced myself to eat slowly, carefully, as though pretending everything was normal would somehow trick my body into calming down. But it didn’t work.

Every bite of food felt heavy on my tongue.

The real hunger clawing at me wasn’t for the roast duck or the buttered greens—it was sitting right beside me, broad-shouldered and impossibly calm, as though he didn’t know how much his presence unsettled me.

The warmth in me kept pulsing, growing stronger with every second. I shifted in my seat, trying to press my knees together discreetly, but it was useless. I could feel my cheeks flushing.

Draven’s voice broke through my storm of thoughts, low and smooth. “You are restless.”

I froze, my fork hovering mid-air. “I’m fine.” My tone was too quick, too defensive.

His dark eyes studied me. He didn’t press further, but he didn’t look away either. It was maddening—the way he could peel me open without saying a word.

I dropped my gaze, pretending to study the way the candlelight reflected on my wine glass.

Dennis cracked a joke beside Xamira, whom I hadn’t paid much attention to as I usually did, breaking the moment.

Jeffery laughed, and I think even Gary chimed in. But I barely heard them.

My pulse hammered too loudly in my ears. My skin tingled as though every nerve ending was begging for Draven’s touch.

Then, his hand brushed mine again. This time, I didn’t move away. My breath hitched, and I dared to lift my gaze.

His lips quirked the faintest bit, as if he knew.

I quickly stabbed at a carrot on my plate, completely flustered. ‘Pull yourself together, Meredith.’

But it was already too late. Valmora stirred within me, whispering, “He feels it. Stop pretending. Don’t hold back.”

I clenched my fork tighter, heat coiling lower in my stomach. For the rest of the meal, I could barely eat, barely speak.

Every part of me was restless—impatient for what was ahead.

Once dinner ended, I left the hall with Draven, following at his side, my steps a little too quick, eager to get away from the watchful eyes of everyone.

The corridor felt cooler than the dining room, but it did nothing to soothe the warmth in my skin.

At the stairwell, Draven slowed his stride just enough to match mine. “You didn’t eat much,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t very hungry,” I admitted, though the truth was far from that.

His gaze lingered on me, questioning, but he said nothing more. Instead, he let his hand brush against mine again—soft, deliberate. My heart thudded hard in response.

On the third floor, I paused outside my door, suddenly unsure if I wanted to step inside or follow Draven to his.

But then, I found myself whispering, “Good night, Draven.”

“Good night.” Draven’s voice was steady, but the way his eyes darkened told me he wasn’t blind to the tension simmering between us.

I slipped into my chamber and shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it for a moment.

My hands trembled, my breath uneven as Valmora’s voice echoed softly within me, “Meredith, what are you—.”

But I crossed to the bed, my pulse unsteady, already knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep.