Chapter 486
[ 1,023 words ]
[Meredith].
Draven didn’t let go of my hand as we walked down the hallway. He didn’t speak, but I could feel the sharp but controlled tension radiating from him.
Dennis stayed behind, probably needing time to steady himself.
The elevator doors slid open. Draven gestured for me to enter first, and I stepped inside. He followed, tapping the button for our floor.
The instant the doors closed, the silence became suffocating.
Draven didn’t look at me at first. He stood beside me—still, rigid, his golden eyes fixed on the elevator doors. Yet I sensed his attention flickering towards me in small, sharp glances.
He could sense something was off, but I kept my gaze ahead, too tense to meet his eyes. My throat tightened as my thoughts solidly wrapped around what he was.
I crossed my arms subtly, not to protect myself from him, but because I suddenly felt cold.
And of course, Draven noticed. He turned fully toward me, his brows knitting slowly. “Meredith.”
My heart stumbled. His voice was firm and too perceptive.
“You are withdrawing,” he said quietly.
I stiffened, and he stepped closer, invading my space with a kind of gentle dominance that made my breath catch.
His fingers brushed my wrist—barely a touch, but enough to pin me in place.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I forced my voice to stay even. “Nothing. I’m just… tired.”
“Tired?” he repeated, as if tasting the word and finding it unconvincing.
He lowered his head slightly to search my eyes. “You’re pale. And you’re not breathing properly.”
That startled me, but for only a moment. I inhaled sharply because he was right. I had been breathing too shallowly without realizing it.
“Something happened,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Something in there upset you.”
I looked away, my pulse pounding. If he kept staring into my soul like that, I would crumble.
Just then, the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. I exhaled in relief, but Draven didn’t move.
He blocked my path with his arm, his gaze still anchoring mine. “Meredith,” he murmured, “don’t shut me out.”
My chest tightened painfully. I wanted to tell him. But how could I?
How could I say that his mother sensed something ancient in me? How could I ask him if he had vampire blood without even understanding the implications myself?
How could I say that his entire identity might be different from what he believed?
I just couldn’t, not until I spoke to Valmora, not until I understood the truth. So I forced myself to meet his eyes and whispered:
“I’m really fine, Draven. Please… let’s just go.”
He held my gaze for a moment longer, reading me, dissecting me, but finally stepped aside.
“Alright,” he said quietly.
But the worry in his tone told me he didn’t believe a word. We walked in silence to our bedroom.
As soon as the door shut behind us, Draven turned to me again without wasting time.
“Did my mother say anything to you?” He tried again.
My breath hitched as he stepped closer. “Did she touch you? Threaten you??”
I shook my head, and his brows furrowed deeper. “Meredith,” he said slowly, “you’re hiding something from me.”
I swallowed. “I’m not.”
He stared at me for several seconds, then slowly took a step forward. “Are you sure she didn’t frighten you?” he pressed. “Did she tell you something strange? Something that made you uncomfortable?”
He wasn’t going to stop. He was too intuitive and too perceptive, and it hurt to lie to someone who protected me so fiercely.
“No, Draven,” I whispered. “She didn’t do anything. I promise.”
The lie burned in my throat. But inside, I apologized to him endlessly. ’ I’m sorry. I just need time. Please understand without knowing why.’
He stared at me, searching my expression, looking for cracks in my composure.
Then finally, he stepped back. He nodded once, though doubt still coated his eyes. “Alright,” he said softly. “If you say so.”
The tension in my chest loosened slightly. But then he asked one more question, “So you don’t have anything you want to tell me?”
My pulse throbbed painfully. “Draven, I just want to rest,” I said, lowering my gaze. “Please. Just for a little while.”
Draven went still for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” His voice was quiet and controlled.
“Do you need anything? Water? Food? A blanket? Should I call someone to bring you something?”
I shook my head. “No. I just want to lie down for a bit.”
“Let me know when you’re well rested.”
“I will.”
He lingered a moment longer, then turned and walked toward the door. But before he stepped out, he paused and looked back at me with worry so deep it pierced straight into me.
Then he quietly left the room, and the door clicked shut.
And the moment he was gone, my knees weakened. I sank onto the bed, my heart racing as I finally let myself confront the truth forming in my chest.
I needed answers. Immediately.
“Valmora,” I whispered. “Tell me the truth. Does Draven… have vampire blood in him?”
For one brief second, there was no response. But just as I was about to ask again, her voice filtered through my head.
“Yes.”
That one word hit me like a blade to the ribs.
Instantly, my breath left my lungs in a shaky rush. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness.
Valmora immediately spoke again—calm, firm, grounding. “Breathe, Meredith. You must calm your heart.”
“I…” I swallowed, heat prickling behind my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Because you weren’t ready to hear it. Even now, you are barely holding on.”
She wasn’t wrong because now, the room felt smaller, the ceiling closer, and my pulse too loud for my ears.
“He doesn’t know…” I whispered, completely horrified. “Draven doesn’t know what he is, right?”
“No. But his wolf knows.”
Almost immediately, my eyes snapped wide open . “Rhovan?” I breathed. “He’s been hiding this from Draven?”
Valmora scoffed, her contempt sharp and unfiltered. “That selfish, lying bastard has known from the beginning. He has always known.”
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