The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 429

Chapter 429: Draven Won’t Let Me Sleep
[Meredith].

A soft warmth brushed across my cheek.

At first, I thought it was sunlight. But sunlight didn’t move like that; it didn’t breathe or chuckle quietly against my skin.

I made a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a complaint, and turned my face into the pillow. The next second, another kiss landed on the back of my neck. Then another. And another.

“Draven…” I mumbled, my voice muffled by the pillow.

He chuckled lowly, the sound rippling through the morning quiet. “Good. You’re awake.”

I turned my head just enough to glare up at him with one eye open. “You woke me up just to say that?”

His lips curved, unbothered by my halfhearted scowl. “I was beginning to wonder how long you planned to keep sleeping.”

“Forever,” I muttered, closing my eyes again. “You said I could rest.”

“I did.” He brushed another kiss across my forehead. “But I didn’t say you could ignore me completely.”

Before I could reply, his fingers slid to my side, tracing a path down my ribs, and then he tickled me.

“Draven!” I gasped, twisting under the sheets while trying not to laugh. “Stop—!”

He only grinned, clearly amused by my attempt to sound serious while giggling uncontrollably. “Say you’re awake, then.”

“I’m awake! I’m awake!”

He stilled, leaning above me with that smug, wolfish grin that made my pulse flutter.

“Good,” he said.

I lay there catching my breath, strands of hair clinging to my face. He reached out, brushing them away gently.

His hand lingered, thumb tracing the corner of my mouth, and for a moment, everything felt still with no diplomatic air around us.

“You look peaceful,” he murmured. “It feels strange seeing you this way today.”

“Strange?” I asked softly, raising a brow.

“Peaceful,” he repeated, his voice dropping to that deep, velvety tone that always found its way beneath my defences. “You’ve been carrying too much lately.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I simply reached up, resting my hand over his. “Not anymore.”

Then, he bent his head, his lips brushing mine—slow, teasing, the kind of kiss that pulled me fully awake.

I kissed him back as my hand slid to his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, smiling faintly. “I could get used to this.”

“To what?” I asked, breathless.

“Waking you up every morning.”

I laughed softly. “Then I will have to learn how to sleep with one eye open.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, before shifting to lie beside me again. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me against him.

I let my head rest on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that, no matter how chaotic the world became, always grounded me.

For a long while, we didn’t speak. The morning light crept through the curtains, wrapping the room in soft gold. His hand moved idly along my back, tracing shapes I couldn’t name.

Finally, he murmured, “You are quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” I said.

“About what?”

“Well, I don’t have anything to say.”

As soon as that statement left my lips, he pressed a kiss to my hair, and for a heartbeat, the world felt still again, but then the shift came.

His lips trailed lower, from my temple to the line of my jaw, lingering until my breath caught.

His hand, which had been idly tracing my back, began to explore with a firmer intent, knowing exactly where to touch, and where to make me forget every reason I had to move.

“Draven…” I whispered, a half-warning, half-plea.

He only hummed against my skin, the sound vibrating through me as his mouth found the curve of my neck.

My pulse stuttered when his fingers slipped beneath the edge of my robe, parting it just enough for his touch to skim the warmth of my skin.

The air thickened between us, the scent of vanilla and sandalwood blurring into something heavier.

When his hand found the knot of the sash, I caught his wrist immediately. “Bad timing,” I managed, though my voice was barely steady.

He stilled, then lifted his head slightly, his breath warm against my cheek. “How?” he murmured, his tone teasing but low.

“It’s almost time for breakfast,” I said, though it came out softer than I intended. “We need to shower and get ready.”

For a second, he only looked at me—eyes dark, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth, and then he sighed, a deep groan that rumbled from his chest as he rolled onto his back.

“Go ahead and shower first,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Because if I step into that shower with you, you wouldn’t leave it for an hour.”

I smiled, leaning closer until my lips brushed his cheek. “Then it’s best you don’t.”

He turned his head toward me just enough that his breath grazed my lips again. “Go, before I change my mind.”

I quickly slipped off the bed, tightening the sash of my robe and trying not to let my amusement show too much.

His gaze followed me as I crossed the room.

“Don’t stare,” I said over my shoulder, unable to resist teasing him.

He chuckled lowly. “You make that impossible.”

The sound of his voice followed me all the way to the bathroom door.

When I closed it behind me, I could still feel the weight of his gaze, warm and heavy, lingering on my skin like the echo of his touch.

—

Steam still clung to my skin when I stepped out of the bathroom, trailing the faint scent of vanilla-scented soap.

The dressing room was bathed in soft daylight, the curtains half-drawn. I opened the wardrobe and ran my fingers over the neat row of fabrics, finally settling on a printed, knee-length black skirt and a silver silk sleeveless top.

The outfit felt light, simple—exactly what I needed.

After dressing and tucking in the blouse, I moved to the vanity table and sat before the mirror.

For a moment, I simply studied my reflection.