CHAPTER 254: OUR MOMENT

Draven.

"I like that sound," I murmured, surprising even myself with the softness of my voice. "Your laugh. You should let me hear it more often."

On the other end, Meredith fell quiet, and I imagined her cheeks warming, her lips pressed together to hide a smile. She always tried to guard herself, even from me.

"Don’t flatter me, Draven," she said eventually, though her tone was lighter, teasing. "You will make me think you actually care."

A faint smile tugged at my mouth. "I wouldn’t call it flattery if it’s the truth. And as for caring... I thought I made it clear that night we bonded... Meredith, I don’t say things I don’t mean."

Her breath caught faintly, just audible over the line. The silence that followed was charged—not uncomfortable, but thick with the words she wasn’t ready to say.

I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as if I could see her face in the shadows above me.

"Do you know what I think about, when I’m away from you?" I asked quietly.

"What?" Her voice had lost its sharpness, replaced by something softer, uncertain.

"I think about your purple eyes," I said. "The way they never stay still when you’re nervous. The way they glare at me when you’re angry, like they’re trying to pierce straight through me. I think about your voice, and how every time you argue with me, it sometimes makes me want to pull you closer instead of push you away. You’ve gotten under my skin in a way no one else ever has."

The silence stretched, but I could hear her breathing—unsteady, uneven. Then, softly, she said, "You make it sound like I mean something to you."

I think she is testing me, to hear what I would say because by now, she should already know more about our relationship.

"You do," I answered without hesitation. My tone sharpened with conviction. "More than you realize. More than I ever planned."

She was quiet for a long time, and I wondered if she was struggling against her instinct to doubt, to shield herself.

Finally, her voice trembled through the speaker. "I don’t know how to believe that, Draven. My whole life, people close to me... they only ever hurt me."

I closed my eyes, my jaw tightening. The image of her family flashed in my mind—cold eyes, mocking lips, years of cruelty carved into her like scars. I wanted to rip it all away from her, piece by piece.

"I’m not them," I said firmly. "I will never be them. I may be harsh, Meredith, but never cruel. You’re my wife. My Luna. My future Queen. And if it takes me the rest of my life to prove to you that you’re safe with me, that you’re... cherished, then that’s exactly what I will do."

Her breath hitched again. I imagined her curled on her bed, phone clutched close, biting her lip the way she always did when she fought against tears.

"Draven..." Her voice was small now. Vulnerable. "Why do you say things like that? You will only make it harder for me when you change your mind one day."

That struck something deep in me. I sat forward, my tone dropping to a low growl, intimate but fierce.

"Listen to me. I don’t change my mind about what’s mine. And you—Meredith—you are mine. No one can take that from me. Not your father. Not your mother. Not your siblings. And definitely not even you."

A shaky laugh slipped from her at last. "You are so possessive."

"Only with you." My lips curved despite myself. "And you don’t seem to mind as much as you pretend you do."

Her silence told me I was right.

I softened my voice again. "Tell me something, Meredith. When you’re alone, when the fear creeps in... do you ever think about me?"

Another pause, longer this time. Then, barely above a whisper: "...Yes."

The answer tightened something in my chest, a fierce warmth blooming where coldness usually reigned.

"Good," I murmured. "Because I think about you too. More than I should. Tonight, I don’t want you to fall asleep thinking about your siblings or your father. Think about me instead. Think about my arms around you, keeping you safe. Think about my voice in your ear, telling you you’re stronger than all of them combined."

Her exhale trembled through the line. "You sound... almost romantic."

I chuckled low, the sound rough in my chest. "Don’t let it get to your head. I will still argue with you tomorrow."

That made her laugh again, bright and unguarded, and this time I closed my eyes, savoring it like the rarest of luxuries.

"If only you were here," she whispered suddenly, and her voice cracked, as though the words had escaped her before she could hold them back.

My heart gave a dangerous lurch. For a moment, I almost told her I’d come. That I’d ride through the night just to hold her, consequences be damned.

Instead, I let my voice drop to a husky murmur. "Soon. Tomorrow evening. And once I am in Duskmoor, Meredith, you won’t have to miss me anymore."

For a long while, neither of us spoke. We just stayed on the line, listening to each other breathe across the silence, as though that was enough to bridge the miles between us.

At last, I whispered, "Goodnight, Meredith."

Her voice came back, softer than I’d ever heard it. "Goodnight, Draven."

Her goodnight whispered through the line, soft and trembling, but neither of us moved to end the call. The silence stretched, charged, and I realized I wasn’t ready to let her go.

"Meredith," I said, my voice lower now, rougher.

"Yes?" she answered, barely above a breath.

"Close your eyes for me."

A pause. I could almost see her frown of confusion. "Why?"

"Just do it," I murmured. "Humor me."

I waited until I heard the faint rustle of sheets, the small exhale that told me she’d obeyed. My lips curved. "Good. Now... imagine I’m with you. Not just my voice, but me. Right there beside you."

Her breath caught, quick and uneven. "Draven..."