The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 518

Chapter 518: Distracting, in A Good Way

[Third Person].

Draven watched Meredith finish the last spoonful of porridge like it was a chore she had been sentenced to.

Then, she pushed the bowl toward him with a dramatic sigh. "There. I did it. Are you satisfied now, Healer?"

Draven took the bowl, set it aside calmly, then reached for the tray again. Without a word, he lifted the lid he had earlier closed with such finality.

The aroma hit Meredith instantly once again.

Draven didn’t look at her. He picked up a small portion of the meat, tore it carefully with his fingers, and brought it toward her mouth.

"Open," he said.

She blinked. "I can feed myself."

"I know," he replied evenly. "But not now."

Her lips parted anyway. The first bite made her groan softly before she could stop herself.

Draven arched a brow. "Dramatic."

"You denied me this on purpose," she accused, chewing. "That’s psychological warfare."

"No," he said, already preparing the next bite. "That was medical discipline."

Draven fed her slowly, deliberately—meat first, then grains, then roots—watching her reactions like he was measuring more than appetite.

But every time she reached for the plate, he pulled it just out of reach.

She glared at him. "You’re enjoying this."

"I won’t deny it," he said quietly.

That shut her up. She ate what he offered, when he offered it, rolling her eyes only once when he insisted she chew properly.

A few moments later, he asked with his eyes peering into hers, "How do you really feel?"

Instantly, Meredith understood the question and what exactly he was asking about.

She hesitated for a moment because saying her feelings would make it real. Then, she swallowed a gulp.

"I feel... tired. Embarrassed. And stupid right now."

Draven paused. "I know why you feel those. But I want you to know something: I can deal with betrayal. I can deal with secrets."

Then, he took in a sharp breath and continued honestly, "But watching you lie there, not breathing properly—" His jaw tightened. "That’s not something I can train myself to endure. So, don’t feel those."

She looked down, guilt blooming fresh in her chest. "I’m truly sorry for everything."

"I know." His voice softened instantly. "That’s why I’m here. Not angry. Just... shaken."

Her eyes burned. But before she could say anything else, the door creaked open.

Dennis’s head poked in, messy-haired and squinting like the light personally offended him.

"Well," he drawled, scanning the room. "Good news—you’re alive. Bad news—my head is still banging."

Meredith let out a small laugh despite herself.

But then, Dennis froze mid-step. His eyes dropped to the tray. Then to Draven’s hand. Then to Meredith’s mouth.

"Oh."

A slow grin spread across his face. "So this is what nearly drowning gets you. Personal feeding services."

Draven finally looked at him, giving him a flat warning look.

Dennis raised both hands. "Relax. I’m just impressed. I didn’t even get water brought to me when I was dying last night."

"You were hungover," Draven said. "That was self-inflicted."

Dennis walked in anyway, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. His eyes flicked over Meredith carefully now—checking her colour, her posture, the fact that she was upright and eating.

"...You scared us," he said, quieter.

Meredith smiled weakly. "I scared myself."

Dennis nodded once, then immediately ruined the moment.

"Still," he added, pointing vaguely toward the river’s direction, "thank the moons my brother forced you into swimming lessons months ago. Otherwise, today, we would be having a very awkward fun—"

Draven closed his eyes. "Dennis," he said slowly, "if you finish that sentence—"

"I’m kidding!" Dennis laughed. "Mostly. Look, she is alive, breathing, and being fed like royalty. That’s a win."

Meredith snorted. Draven glanced at her, caught the sound, and shook his head. "You’re encouraging him."

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