The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 3: Claiming the Cursed Wolfless Deviant

The Lunar Ball primarily served as a stage for insecure males to quarrel over their potential mates.

I held zero interest in such festivities, nor did I possess the patience to endure the tedious social maneuvers of desperate Alphas attempting to foist their daughters upon me. However, the instant I entered the ballroom accompanied by my beta and other notable guests, the atmosphere shifted. My inner wolf unleashed a savage snarl, compelling me to halt in my tracks.

A scent washed over me, potent and intoxicating. It was primal, untamed, and frankly, quite wrong.

A hush fell across the entire chamber; every gaze was fixed upon the girl standing at the heart of the commotion. She remained on the floor, her silver-white tresses cascading like liquid moonlight, her slender figure rigid with suppressed fury. Even from across the floor, I could discern the violet hue of her eyes, ablaze with tears she refused to shed. Then, my eyes fell upon the mark—a jagged, hideous scar etched into her left cheek, a wound that should have mended long ago had she been a capable wolf.

My wolf growled, disturbed. Shortly after, the surrounding murmurs reached my ears.

As I refocused on the girl—Meredith Carter—I made a startling discovery. Her pheromones, which had been radiating wildly just moments prior, had suddenly vanished as if snuffed out by an invisible hand. That feat was supposed to be impossible.

I took another step, trapping her gaze with mine. As her breath hitched, an ancient, perilous instinct surged within my chest. It was a sense of recognition, of possession. She was mine.

I chose to ignore it. I ignored the way her essence curled deep within my lungs, and the way my muscles coiled as if anticipating a skirmish. I deliberately disregarded the woman standing near her and zeroed in on the idiot positioned to her right.

Marc Harris, the heir to the Moonstone Pack’s beta position, was a man for whom I held no regard. He was smirking, his stance relaxed as though he hadn't just humiliated his fated mate before an entire assembly of wolves.

I could have throttled him in seconds. For a moment, I considered it.

Instead, I released a tide of raw power as I stalked toward them. "Just what is happening here?"

The laughter vanished instantly. Wolves bowed their heads in instinctive submission. Marc, to his fleeting credit, stiffened but refused to drop to his knees. It was a brave gesture, though undeniably moronic.

I stopped mere paces from them. Meredith, the supposedly cursed girl, stared up at me, her hands balled into tight fists as she braced for another assault while rising to her feet, flinching from the pain. She did not avert her eyes.

Intriguing.

"Marc Harris," I stated, my tone sharp and cold as a blade. "Do you reject her?"

Marc offered a smirk. "I have already done so, Alpha."

My wolf let out a savage snarl. I fought down the urge to snap the bastard's neck right then and there. Turning back to Meredith, I saw she was standing tall, defiance radiating from her despite her circumstances.

The room anticipated my departure, waiting for me to discard her as the others had. They were all fools. I perceived what they chose to ignore: the latent force coiled beneath her skin and the rage churning in her blood. She was not weak; she was simply trapped. And if I knew anything, it was that contained creatures were the most volatile. I reached a decision then, one that set the entire ballroom ablaze with my next words.

"Then I shall claim her."

Silence. A stunned, absolute silence descended.

Meredith gasped. Marc blinked, his smirk vanishing. "Beg your pardon?"

I hardly gave him a glance. "You rejected her," I stated plainly. "Since she belongs to no one, she belongs to me."

A ripple of disbelief surged through the crowd.

I drew closer to Meredith, observing her body tense. I anticipated terror, but was met with nothing but fire. Her violet eyes crackled with defiance. "I am not some trophy to be traded around," she retorted, locking eyes with me.

The chamber went motionless. Interesting. For the first time in an eternity, a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I kept that reaction to myself. Reaching out—moving slowly enough for her to retreat, though she stood her ground—I retrieved the shredded fabric of her veil. Gently, I lifted the cloth to shield her face from their gawking stares. "Tomorrow, I will collect you. Within two days, you shall be my wife," I declared, leaving no room for debate.

Another shockwave shuddered through the attendees. Marc’s expression twisted into one of disbelief. "You must be joking."

I turned my gaze toward him, my authority washing out in waves. "Do I appear to be joking?"

Marc blanched and retreated. The implication was clear: I was staking my claim on Meredith, and no one would dare interfere. An audible gasp echoed throughout the hall. No one dared breathe. Within a heartbeat, the room erupted into whispers, gasps, and frantic debates.

I had anticipated this, even welcomed it. Werewolves were obsessed with their precious hierarchies, their lineage, and their ranks. A beta casting off a mate was a minor lapse, but an Alpha claiming a wolfless, cursed woman? That was viewed as a sacrilege.

I allowed the noise to swell, letting the finality of my decree weigh upon them like a mountain. Just as the whispering spiraled into chaos, another voice sliced through the tension.

"Draven."

I turned to see my childhood friend, Wanda Fellowes, stepping forward. Her crimson dress shimmered beneath the light, and her green eyes met mine with undisguised outrage. Unlike the others, she stood her ground.

Wanda had always been calculated and controlled. Tonight was no exception. "Are you certain regarding this?" her voice was soft, masked by caution rather than overt defiance.

I held her gaze, asking, "You disagree?"

"I question your wisdom." She glanced back at Meredith, who remained silent at my side. "This girl is cursed. She lacks a wolf and possesses no strength. Her pheromones are erratic and unnatural. Look at her—" she gestured toward Meredith with a weary sigh. "She bears a scar that will forever mar her appearance. Is this the type of Luna you want by your side? Is she the Queen you intend to present to our pack? You require a Luna who can elevate our people, not one to—"

Not someone to drag me down. I knew what she meant. I silenced her with a look. "So you think she serves only to weaken me?"

After a momentary pause, she replied quietly, "I believe you ought to exercise caution."

We scrutinized one another for a beat. Wanda was no enemy, but she would never grasp this. I offered a slight nod—acknowledgment, not agreement. She exhaled and stepped back, murmuring, "I sincerely hope you know what you are doing."

I shared that sentiment, Wanda. Before I could utter another word, a different voice cut through the air.

"Draven."

I recognized the tone before I even turned. My father, Randall Otrun, approached. He navigated the crowd with the heavy authority of a man born to lead, his steps measuring the floorboards with precision. When he met my eyes, I found no anger, only profound disappointment.

"What is the meaning of this?" he inquired, his voice smooth and inscrutable.

I squared my shoulders. "Claiming my wife."

His gaze flicked toward Meredith before returning to me. "You could have chosen any woman here. Any woman possessing the strength and dignity befitting a King's consort."

Yet, I had settled on the most perilous path available. He exhaled a long, heavy breath, his tone edged with finality. "Draven, this represents your final opportunity. I gave you an ultimatum; you are to leave this ball with a wife. I expect you to make a selection reflecting our bloodline."

I smiled. "Then you should be satisfied, Father. I have made my choice."

My father’s jaw stiffened. He had expected me to fold, but I had never bowed to his demands before, and I certainly wasn't going to start today. I turned to look at Meredith; she was irate, bewildered, and furious.

She didn't desire me. That was entirely irrelevant. The second I looked at her tonight, the moment my wolf had recognized that spark buried deep within her, she was already mine.