The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 580: Anchoring Him

[Meredith].

Early the next morning, Draven and I stretched quietly in the training space before returning to our bedroom in the main house.

He looked better now, rested. But not healed.

The sharp edge from last night had dulled just enough for me to breathe easier. Still, I knew better than to think the storm inside him had passed. It was only sleeping.

When he lay back down on our bed, staring at the ceiling, I hesitated before speaking.

"Do you have any meetings today?" I asked carefully.

"Yes," he replied. Then, after a pause, he added, "But I won’t be attending."

I nodded, not surprised.

"And I won’t be joining breakfast."

That one stung more than I expected.

I didn’t push him. I knew that look in his eyes—the one that said he couldn’t bear to sit across from his father yet, not with everything still raw and burning in his chest.

"I will stay with you today," I uttered instead. "At least until after lunch. I have... something important to do later."

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t object either.

"Would you like a bath?" I asked softly after a moment.

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I don’t want the servants disturbing me today."

"I will make sure they don’t," I promised, knowing he wanted to be left alone without the presence of the servants in our room to do their duty.

I left Draven there and went straight into the bathroom. There were still a couple of hours before breakfast, and I needed the water as much as he did.

So, I ran a warm bath and added a few drops of aromatic oils—nothing too sharp, just calming scents meant to loosen tension.

When the tub was ready, I stripped and slipped in, sighing as the warmth wrapped around me. My muscles finally began to relax.

As I leaned back, my thoughts drifted to Rosalie. I had planned to visit her today. I needed to. But Draven needed me more right now, so I pushed the visit to the evening. I couldn’t bring myself to mention anything about his mother.

Through the bond, I sent a quiet instruction to Azul to keep the servants away from our room for the day.

Then I closed my eyes.

Not long after, the bathroom door opened. I didn’t need to look to know it was him, but I still opened my eyes.

Draven stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and began unbuttoning his shirt in silence.

My breath caught—not in surprise, but in understanding. In the end, I shifted slightly in the tub, making room for him.

He finished undressing without a word and stepped into the water, settling at the opposite end. The tub instantly felt too small for both of us, our knees brushing, the heat intensifying.

But when his leg pressed more firmly against mine, and his shoulders finally lowered just a fraction, I knew why he was here.

He didn’t need words. He just needed me, his mate.

So, I shifted closer to him first, just enough that my thigh rested fully against his, skin to skin beneath the water.

Draven inhaled sharply.

I leaned back into him, slowly, until my shoulders rested against his chest. The heat of his body surrounded me instantly, solid and grounding.

His breath stuttered once, then his arm came around me, firm, almost desperate, pulling me flush against him as if letting go might undo him completely.

Neither of us spoke. Our breathing began to sync, slow and deep, the water lapping softly against the porcelain.

I could feel his heartbeat through my back—too fast at first, then gradually easing as I stayed there, unmoving, letting my presence do the work words couldn’t.

"This," he murmured finally, voice low and rough near my ear, "is the only place I don’t feel like I’m falling apart."

My throat tightened a bit. Then, I lifted one hand and traced slow, steady lines along his forearm, my touch deliberate and calming.

"Then stay," I whispered. "You don’t have to hold everything together right now."

His grip tightened briefly. "I keep thinking about what I am," he admitted. "What I’ve always been, without knowing it. And what happens if they find out."

I didn’t interrupt. I let him speak.

"What if they decide I’m unfit?" he continued quietly. "What if the throne—everything I’ve been raised for was never truly meant for me?"

I turned my head just enough to press my cheek against his shoulder. "You are not your blood," I said firmly. "You are your choices. Your restraint. Your loyalty. Your strength."

His breath trembled. "And what if that strength was never mine to begin with?" he asked. "What if it was the vampiric blood all along?"

I stopped tracing his arm and instead laid my palm flat over his chest, right above his heart.

"You still chose what to do with it," I said. "Power doesn’t define a man. What he refuses to become does."

A short silence followed. Then, through the bond, I reached him deeper.

I let the bond open fully, unguarded. I sent him calm. Stability. The steady certainty I carried even when everything else felt fractured.

I poured reassurance into the connection, wrapping it around him the way my body already was.

Draven sucked in a breath like he had been hit with a wave.

Then his arms came around me completely, locking me against him. His forehead dipped, resting against the side of my head.

"I don’t know who I am without you anchoring me anymore," he admitted.

I closed my eyes and leaned into him fully, my back pressed to his chest, my head tucked beneath his chin.

"Then let me," I said softly. "Until you remember."

His breathing slowed, and his hold loosened in relief.

We stayed that way for a long time, the water cooling around us, the world beyond the bathroom walls fading into nothing.

For now, this was enough. And he was safe. That’s all that mattered to me now.