The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 534

Chapter 534: Market Runs

[Meredith].

With Dennis ahead and Draven walking beside me, we stepped outside the house after lunch.

And Draven didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he stood by the door while Dennis reached for the keys, his presence filling the space in that quiet, commanding way he had.

Then, without raising his voice, he said, "My mate is in your care."

I paused for a moment. Dennis paused too, slowly turning to look at him with a look that was half disbelief, half mock offence.

"That," Dennis said, clicking his tongue, "is a very big task you’re handing me."

Draven’s gaze didn’t waver. "One you shouldn’t fail."

Dennis lifted both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. No pressure at all."

I hid my smile. Moments later, we were on the road.

--- 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The local market of the Mystic Furs Pack was already alive when we arrived. Stone stalls lined the open square, banners bearing pack symbols fluttering lightly in the breeze.

The air smelled of leather, dried meat, metal—and faintly, herbs.

Dennis parked and jumped out first, rounding the car to open my door with exaggerated flair.

"After you, Luna."

I shot him a warning look, and he grinned wider.

The moment we stepped into the market, I could feel it—the subtle shift. A few vendors glanced my way, some recognizing me instantly. Their backs straightened, heads dipped respectfully, even if their expressions remained guarded.

Others didn’t recognize me at all, but their eyes widened the moment they saw Dennis.

"Alpha’s younger brother," someone murmured.

Dennis, infuriating as always, leaned closer to one vendor and said cheerfully, "And this is our Luna."

I pinched his arm hard, and he laughed.

"I’m trying to help," he whispered. "You deserve respect."

"I want herbs," I muttered. "Not attention."

Still, the respect followed us. Dennis carried every bag without complaint at first. Bundles of dried leaves, wrapped roots, and small clay jars. With each purchase, he lifted a brow.

"What’s this one for?"

"Anti-inflammatory."

"And this?"

"Fever."

"And that?"

"Digestive."

He whistled. "You’ve officially turned me into your driver, your guard, and now, your servant."

"If you ask one more question," I warned, "I will make you grind the roots by hand."

He shut up briefly. But as we moved deeper into the market, my enthusiasm dimmed. I examined a bundle of leaves, then shook my head.

"Too dry."

Another stall—roots that had lost their colour.

"Not fresh."

Dennis noticed and asked, "Any problem?"

"Mystic Furs isn’t known for medicine," I said honestly. "Your land is strong. But herbs like these don’t thrive here. My Moonstone specializes in them."

The ride back to the Oatrun Estate was quieter than the market. Not awkward, just thoughtful.

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