CHAPTER 265: SAFE IN HIS ARMS

Meredith.

My body still trembled in Draven’s arms, every breath uneven as I lay sprawled against him.

The storm of passion had finally ebbed, leaving behind a quiet warmth that spread through my chest.

His skin was hot against mine, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my ear.

Draven’s arm curled around me possessively, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing circles along my bare back.

The roughness of his touch contrasted with the gentleness of his hold, and it made my heart ache in the most beautiful way.

For a long while, we said nothing. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was heavy with meaning, thick with the knowledge of what we had just shared.

My lips curved in a faint smile, still swollen from his kisses, and I whispered into the hollow of his throat, "You’ve exhausted me."

His chest rumbled with a low chuckle. "You’re welcome."

I rolled my eyes against his skin, but I couldn’t stop the soft laugh that escaped me. Then he shifted slightly, enough for me to see his face, and I caught the rare softness in his eyes.

The fire that had burned there earlier was still present, but now it was tempered, wrapped in something deeper... something that felt dangerously close to devotion.

"You’re mine, Meredith," he said, not as a command this time but as a vow. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, tender in a way that made my throat tighten.

"And no matter who might come into any of our homes in the future—your family, mine, the elders, anyone—I won’t let them touch what’s mine."

My chest swelled with pride as I allowed the words to sink into me, stronger than any armor.

For once, the fear of facing Gary and Mabel again tomorrow felt small, like shadows shrinking under the light.

I let out a slow breath, nodding. "I know," I whispered. "I trust you with my safety."

His lips curved faintly at that, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss against my forehead—so tender it almost undid me more than his passion had.

I snuggled closer, breathing in his scent, letting it lull me. For the first time in years, maybe ever, I felt like I belonged exactly where I was.

His warmth wrapped around me like a shield, and the weight of the day melted away.

Tomorrow, there would be tension. Tomorrow, there would be games, whispers, and tests from those who wished me ill. But tonight, in the safety of Draven’s arms, none of that mattered.

Tonight, I was not the girl bullied by her siblings. I was not the outcast.

I was his wife, his Luna. And the woman he had just vowed to protect with everything he had.

With that thought warming me from within, my eyes fluttered shut, and I drifted into sleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

---

The first thing I felt when I woke was warmth—solid, grounding, and impossibly steady.

For a blissful moment, I didn’t open my eyes. I only let myself sink deeper into it, my cheek pressed against the firm wall of his chest, my body cradled in his arm like I belonged nowhere else but right here in Draven’s arms.

The faint scent of pine and mint clung to his skin, wrapping around me, making me want to burrow even closer.

When I finally stirred, his arm instinctively tightened around me, a low hum vibrating from his throat as if his body refused to let me go even in sleep.

I tilted my head just enough to see him. He was still asleep—or close to it. His dark long hair was tousled, falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger, almost boyish.

But there was nothing boyish about the hard line of his jaw, or the strength in the arm curved around me that I traced with my eyes.

Then I moved my gaze back to his strands of hair that covered almost half of his face. I couldn’t resist sweeping them away.

And as soon as I did that, his flicked open.

Gold and sharp, they pinned me as if I’d just woken a beast instead of a man. But then they softened the instant they focused on me, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Good morning, wife," he murmured, his voice low and husky from sleep.

Heat crept into my cheeks. "Good morning," I whispered back.

His thumb brushed the back of my hand where it rested against his chest, slow and deliberate. "You look different this morning," he said, studying me with a gaze that made me feel bare.

"Different?" I frowned.

"Content," he replied simply.

My throat tightened. He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t woken up weighed down by dread or uncertainty. I’d slept deeply, safe in someone’s arms. Safe in his.

"Maybe I am," I admitted, the words slipping past my lips before I could stop them.

His golden eyes softened further, and without another word, he leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. It wasn’t a kiss meant to claim or ignite fire—it was gentler, reverent, a promise woven into the touch.

I closed my eyes and let it linger, my hand curling against his chest as I whispered into the silence, "Don’t let me lose this."

He didn’t ask what I meant. He didn’t need to. His answer was a low growl, deep in his chest as he pulled me even closer. "Never."

I let myself believe him, that as long as I had this—him, us, this rare and quiet peace—then maybe facing my siblings later today wouldn’t be as terrifying.

Because when he held me like this, I didn’t feel small. I felt very much untouchable.

A few moments later, I knew it was time to get off the bed.

I stirred, stretching slightly, only to realize I couldn’t move far because Draven’s arm was locked tightly around my waist.

I shifted, intending to slip out of bed. But the moment I tried, his grip tightened, pulling me back against his chest once again.