The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 660: Unspeakable Joy

"My reaction seems slightly lackluster," Draven remarked.

I peered into his eyes. Gone was the playfulness, replaced by an intense, unwavering focus.

Quiet moments slipped by. I leaned against the cushions, moving my hand instinctively to rest upon my belly.

That faint, inner luminescence persisted. While subtle, it was undeniably present and, in some peculiar fashion, resilient.

Draven hovered nearby, pacing the room only a handful of times before coming to a standstill, as if any physical distance from me felt intolerable.

A sudden tremor shifted through our matebond. Valmora recoiled, then hesitated, radiating a flicker of confusion mixed with something akin to wonder. Before I could process this curiosity, the heavy doors swung open.

The royal healer strode in, offering a profound bow. "Your Majesties."

"Examine her," Draven commanded, ignoring the customary pleasantries.

The healer approached, her features composed but professional. Her touch remained delicate yet methodical as she conducted her assessment.

I held perfectly still, though Draven loomed so close I could feel the weight of his watchful gaze.

Eventually, the healer’s motions tapered off, then halted entirely. Her expression shifted; her brows knitted together in clear surprise, as though she were verifying an unexpected truth.

Draven sensed the change immediately. "What is it?" he demanded, his voice strained.

The healer paused, then bowed her head slightly. "Your Majesty..." she began, then faltered.

That fleeting silence nearly pushed me to rise from the bed. Fortunately, she resumed quickly.

"Her Majesty is indeed expecting a child."

The declaration hung in the air, a silent truth finally spoken. Draven’s knuckles turned white at his sides, but the healer raised a hand.

"However, there is... something else."

That revelation commanded our full attention. My gaze hardened as Draven pressed, "Explain yourself."

The healer looked up, her face reflecting genuine reverence. "It is not a single child," she announced. "Her Majesty is carrying twins."

A profound silence took hold of the room. The significance of the information settled deep within us.

My palm instinctively pressed against my midsection. That gentle warmth shifted. Not one. Two.

"I am carrying twins?" I whispered, the words intended only for me.

Draven froze, yet through our matebond, I felt a tidal wave of shock surge through him, soon eclipsed by an even more formidable emotion.

He looked at me, then his eyes drifted down to where his hand had rested before.

"To think..." he murmured to himself.

His voice carried a note of utter disbelief, which soon surrendered to a look of ironclad resolve.

Lifting his chin, he locked his gaze onto mine, his expression steely and protective. "You are not to leave my sight," he declared.

The tone left no room for opposition. Not today. Not ever.

---

After Draven ushered the healer away, the chamber grew still. However, the moment he stepped back inside, his composure—usually an anchor of restraint—simply shattered.

He closed the space between us in a few rapid strides. He cupped my face, and before I could blink, he pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was brimming with raw relief, elation, and sheer disbelief. As he drew back, a rare, radiant light glowed in his eyes.

"Twins," he voiced, as if testing the weight of the word.

Then, he exhaled, a genuine laugh escaping him. He spun around, raking a hand through his hair, pacing and stopping repeatedly, clearly unmoored by his own joy.

"This..." he murmured, shaking his head. "This is simply—"

He left the sentence unfinished. Instead, his eyes sought mine, and I couldn't suppress the smile widening on my face.

For once, I elected to remain silent, simply observing him, knowing this moment of happiness was one we had truly earned together.

"It has been nearly two years," I whispered softly.

His expression softened instantly.

"And now..." I continued, my fingers hovering over my stomach, "we are bearing our cubs."

The reality felt like a beautiful dream, then a sudden realization dawned on me. "My grandmother’s letter," I gasped.

Draven turned to me with sharpened focus.

"She concluded it with a congratulatory wish for us," I explained. "I hadn't understood her meaning at the time, but now, it is perfectly clear."

Draven breathed a soft sigh, shaking his head. "That woman," he muttered. "She possesses a vision far beyond ordinary folk."

A faint smile touched his lips. "I believe it now."

Moments later, Draven lifted me into his arms. I offered no resistance, knowing better than to challenge him.

He carried me into the bathing suite and placed me by the tub, tending to the water with the practiced ease of one who had done so a thousand times.

"I am capable of doing this myself," I noted.

"I am fully aware," he replied, yet not once did he budge.

He remained, assisting me into the bath and ensuring the temperature was divine. His every gesture was deliberate—far more careful than the circumstance required.

When I emerged, he wrapped a warm towel around my hair and ushered me to the dressing vanity.

Before my attendants could even approach, he had already begun to dry my hair himself.

I raised an eyebrow. "You are doing far too much at this point."

"I am not doing enough," he countered instantly.

The maids exchanged meaningful, delighted glances.

Once he finally stepped away to attend to his own bathing, they crowded around me, their faces lit with joy.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty."

"Our deepest felicitations, my Queen."

I bowed my head graciously. "Thank you."

---

Breakfast proved to be an ordeal. Draven refused to remain seated, perpetually placing new selections of food upon my platter.

"Eat this."

"Try this."

"And this as well."

I looked from the abundance of fruit and delicacies back to him. "I am not starving, you know."

"You are feeding three souls now."

"That doesn’t mean—"

"Eat."

I paused, offered a quiet sigh, and complied. He watched me with eagle-eyed focus until the plate was empty. Only then was he satisfied.

Following breakfast, the customary presence within our bond stirred. Valmora, accompanied by Rhovan.

Their consciousness grazed mine, then drifted toward the nascent energy developing within. Their excitement was palpable.

What neither of us predicted, however, was their internal squabble.

"They are both mine," Valmora’s presence pulsed forward, brimming with arrogance.

Rhovan’s retort was swift, firm, and thoroughly amused. "One is mine, surely."

"Absolutely not."

"I insist."

Their voices clashed, neither wishing to concede. Feeling the echoes of their squabbling, I couldn't help but let a chuckle escape.

Draven, however, saw no humor in the situation. "Enough," he commanded aloud, his voice dropping an octave.

The bond fell into instant silence, rendering me helpless against a fresh wave of laughter.

Moments later, Draven’s features grew grave. "There will be no more training," he asserted.

I looked at him, stunned. "No."

His brow furrowed instantly. "No?" he echoed.

"I shall continue my training," I said, my voice steady. "Pregnancy does not render me delicate."

"The situation has changed significantly."

"Not enough to halt my progress."

"This is not a matter for negotiation."

"I disagree."

The tension between us escalated. Undeterred, I held my ground. "I have no intention of sitting idle for months on end. I can modify my routine accordingly."

"You shall cease all training."

I locked eyes with him. "Who gave you the authority to decide that?"

"I did."

I paused for a long moment, then exhaled. "You are acting entirely preposterous."

"And you are willfully ignoring the stakes of this situation."

"It means I carry our cubs," I retorted. "Not that my identity ceases to exist."

His jaw tightened into a rigid line. For a heavy moment, silence dominated. Then—

"I said no." The finality in his voice was absolute.

I weighed his words for a second, then shook my head slowly. "Since when have you become so adept at winning these disputes?"

A brief flash of triumph crossed his face.

I opted not to pursue that line of thought. Instead, I reclined against the chair. "When shall we make the announcement?" I asked, opting to steer the discussion elsewhere.

His demeanor shifted instantly. He moved closer, resting a palm gently over my stomach. This time, his touch felt grounded, imbued with tenderness.

"After three months," he stated.

I nodded in agreement, acknowledging the wisdom of the decision. For now, this miraculous news would remain ours alone.