The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 177: Combat With Draven

Meredith.

The sun was merciless today, hanging low and bright over the training grounds, but it wasn’t nearly as merciless as the man currently wiping the floor with me.

Draven.

I still hadn’t figured out what changed in him. After weeks of that strange distance—of avoiding my gaze, of a coldness so heavy it made the air around us brittle—he had thawed. Not just thawed, either.

Now he teased me, smirked like Dennis would, and even had the gall to slap my backside every time I turned away from him in the wrong stance.

It started a week ago. The night he came into my room when my heat was unbearable, his scent the only thing that could calm the fire burning under my skin.

And afterwards... it was like something loosened inside him.

And now, here we were. His voice—infuriatingly calm—cut through my ragged breathing.

"Your glare is fierce today, little wolf," he drawled, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Tell me, am I the one who made you so weak that you’ve become my plaything on the sand?"

I ground my teeth so hard my jaw ached. "Arrogant brute," I hissed, lunging at him before the words even left my tongue.

He didn’t even bother to step back.

I swung, aiming for his face—he tilted his head lazily, and my fist met nothing but air. The bastard even chuckled under his breath.

My heart pounded, blood roaring in my ears. Again, I threw another punch, then another. Each time, his body moved like water: effortless, fluid, untouchable.

I must have been crazy to think I could land a punch on a seasonal warrior, an Alpha, who has been training since he was young.

"Come on, Meredith," he teased, voice deep and maddeningly amused. "Surely you can do better."

Every word stoked the fire in my chest. Heat flared across my skin, fuelled by frustration and something more dangerous—something embarrassingly close to excitement.

"Shut up!" I snapped and went low, twisting my hips to kick at his groin.

Fast as a whip, his hand caught my knee. His smirk widened, and he murmured, "Got you."

I snarled and swung my fist at the side of his head. He caught my wrist, turning it just enough to make me lose my balance.

"Got you again," he said, softer this time, but the amusement in his eyes burned hotter than the sun on my back.

So close. Too close. My heart hammered, chest tight. His scent—warm, dark, edged with something spicy—wrapped around me, made my head light.

I was so close to him that all I wanted to do was—

Bite.

Without thinking, I lunged forward, aiming to sink my teeth into that annoyingly perfect jaw. But his palm came up, covering my entire face, pressing lightly but firmly.

"Really?" he murmured, chuckling, his chest rumbling under his breath.

I froze, the tips of my ears burning with humiliation and something else I didn’t want to name.

Draven lowered his hand and stepped back, smirk still firmly in place. "That’s enough for today," he announced, as if we’d been politely trading steps in a dance.

"I’m not done!" I spat, chest heaving. But he’d already turned his back on me, bending to tighten the laces on his boots.

A wicked idea sparked. My heart surged. Quiet as I could, I shifted my weight on the sand and sprang forward, ready to throw him off balance.

But before my feet even landed, I was the one flipped, my back slamming into the sand so hard the air whooshed out of my lungs.

Draven’s thumb brushed along the curve of my neck, his face so close his shadow blocked the sun.

"You’re dead," he said, voice like silk over steel.

The words sank in. The realization hit, followed by a hot flush of embarrassment and rage. I let out a strangled scream of frustration, slapping my palms against the sand on either side of me.

Above me, Draven’s chuckle was low and smug, sending another unwanted shiver down my spine.

He extended a hand. "Give up already," he drawled, his mouth quirking.

I glared daggers at him. My body screamed in protest, bruises throbbing on my shoulders, arms, and back. Still, I took his hand.

"I will give up when I’m dead," I muttered, my voice hoarse.

He pulled me to my feet with infuriating ease, and I bit back a groan as fresh pain flared across my back.

Draven looked at me, his gaze softer for a breath—just a breath—before that damned smirk returned.

"Go in," he said, nodding toward the path leading back to the main house. "Let your maidservants tend to your bruises before tonight."

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him, but the weight of exhaustion pulled at my shoulders.

"Fine," I muttered, turning away, my back still burning.

I could feel his gaze on me as I walked, heavy and dark, but not cold. And even though my pride was battered as badly as my body, I couldn’t help it: my chest tightened, my heart stuttered.

Behind that teasing smirk, behind the ruthless trainer and cunning Alpha... Draven was still the man who had come to me in my heat, the man whose warmth I had fallen asleep beside.

Tonight, there will be a meeting. A gathering I hadn’t known existed until recently. And for the first time, I would stand among the rest of them in the dark woods, under moonlight, as one of them.

But for now, I limped away from the training grounds, sand clinging to my sweat-soaked skin, bruised, aching—and strangely, deeply alive. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"You are slow." I heard Draven’s voice from over my shoulders. "Need help?"

He was mocking me, not intending to help. That much I know.

"Only if you will carry me, Princess-style," I threw that out, knowing fully well that he would never do that.

But deep down my heart, I wished he would one day do that.

"Well, if you break your ankles, I could," he chuckled.

I didn’t bother responding to him.

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