The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 390

Chapter 390: Tending to Her Wounds
(Third Person).

Before Brackham could press further, Draven turned and strode toward the car.

The driver opened the door for him, and he paused just long enough to cast one last look at the mayor over his shoulder.

“Take care of your new guest, Mayor Brackham. He’s… delicate.”

Then Draven entered the vehicle. The car engine rumbled softly before pulling away from the courtyard, its taillights vanishing into the dark streets of Duskmoor.

Brackham stood there for several seconds, unease prickling down his spine as the meaning of Draven’s words gnawed at him.

He swallowed hard, trying to dismiss it, but something in the Alpha’s tone refused to leave his mind.

And then, from somewhere deep beneath the government house, a muffled, animalistic roar tore through the silence—low, guttural, and seething with fury.

Brackham flinched.

The vampire was awake.

—

The drive back to the estate was quiet.

The moon hung low now, its pale light spilling over the sprawling mansion as the car rolled to a stop before the front steps.

The warrior-driver switched off the engine. Draven stepped out without a word, stretching his shoulders as the cool night air swept over him.

The faint scent of blood still clung to him—old and dry, but he ignored it. His mind was already elsewhere.

The front doors opened the moment he reached them. Inside, the halls glowed softly with the golden light of chandeliers. The estate was calm again, untouched by the chaos outside.

Dennis appeared from the corridor, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Well, well. The Alpha returns.”

Draven glanced up, one brow lifting. “You’re still awake.”

“Barely,” Dennis replied, chuckling. “I was waiting to see if you actually delivered Brackham’s gift.”

“I did,” Draven said simply.

Dennis’s grin widened. “Then the mayor’s in for one hell of a surprise when that thing wakes up.” He folded his arms, leaning casually against the wall.

“By the way, your wife—she was magnificent tonight after you left. You should have seen her. Quick, fierce… she handled those vampires like she was born for it.”

Draven paused mid-step, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Where is my she?”

Dennis smirked, sensing the sudden change in his brother’s tone. “Now you remember you have a wife?”

Draven’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Cut the crap.”

Dennis raised both hands in mock surrender, though amusement still danced in his eyes. “Relax, Brother. She’s fine. Her maidservants are tending to her—patching her up.”

“She is hurt?” Draven’s expression darkened immediately.

Dennis blinked, half in disbelief. “What were you expecting after you left?”

“But you were there,” Draven said, his voice low but sharp. “How could you let her get hurt?”

Dennis stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t be serious—”

But Draven was already striding past him, his long steps quick and deliberate, the weight of command in every motion.

“Hello?” Dennis called after him, throwing his hands up. “Do you have any idea how many vampires attacked us after you left?”

Draven didn’t respond. He was already halfway up the stairs, his mind set on one thing—his wife.

—

Meredith winced as Azul pressed a damp cloth to the cut along her side.

The sting of the herbal ointment burned against her skin, but she didn’t flinch away. Not after everything she had endured tonight.

“Hold still, my Lady,” Azul said softly, worry lacing her tone.

“I am holding still,” Meredith murmured, though her voice came out a little strained.

Deidra moved about the room quickly, gathering fresh bandages while Cora and Arya worked to clean the floor of the faint splatters of blood.

The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic herbs and silver polish.

Kira, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke. “We thought you wouldn’t come back,” she said in a whisper. “When we heard some of the warriors return without you, we—”

Meredith gave her a small smile despite the pain. “But I did come back.”

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but the tremor in her breath betrayed her exhaustion.

Her muscles ached, her body throbbed, but beneath all of it was a quiet pride. She had fought—really fought and survived.

Deidra finished tying the last of the bandages. “You should rest now, my Lady. Your body needs it.”

Meredith nodded faintly and leaned back against the headboard, breathing out slowly. Her silver hair was undone, falling around her shoulders like a river of moonlight.

The flicker of the bedside candles cast a soft golden glow across her bruised skin.

Just then, a sharp knock sounded on the door.

All five maidservants froze. Azul immediately straightened and hurried to the door. When she opened it, the tall frame of Alpha Draven filled the doorway.

He didn’t say a word at first. His eyes swept over Meredith—taking in the bandages, the smudges of blood, the worry in her servants’ faces. Then, his expression hardened.

“Alpha,” Azul said quietly, bowing her head.

“Leave us,” Draven said, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

The maidservants exchanged quick glances before bowing one after another and quietly exiting the room. Azul was the last to leave, closing the door softly behind her.

The silence that followed was heavy. Draven stood there briefly, his eyes locked on his wife. Then he started to move.

“You got hurt,” he said quietly.

Meredith tilted her head, offering a small smile. “It’s nothing serious. Azul said I will be fine by tomorrow.”

He stopped beside the bed, his hands sliding into his pockets, his voice low. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

She arched a brow, amused. “I thought you said I was a warrior now.”

Draven’s lips twitched, but the concern in his eyes didn’t ease. “A warrior doesn’t mean invincible.”

“I never said I was,” she murmured, her tone gentle but teasing. “And besides, Dennis was there. I wasn’t exactly alone.”

His jaw flexed slightly at that. “And yet, you still got hurt.”

Meredith let out a quiet sigh. “It was unavoidable.”

Draven finally sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. His gaze softened as he brushed a few strands of silver hair from her face, his thumb lingering just above her cheekbone. The simple touch carried all the words he didn’t say.

After a moment, he asked, “Have you had dinner?”