Luca's POV
The honeymoon ends too quickly.
"Ready to go back?" Rian asks, packing our bags.
"Not really. Can we stay here forever?"
"Tempting." He pulls me close. "But the pack needs their Alpha. And their Luna."
Luna. That's me now. Officially.
The flight home is comfortable—private jet, Rian's hand never leaving mine. Through the bond, I feel his anticipation and slight anxiety.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just hoping the pack didn't destroy everything while I was gone."
"You have a Beta for that."
"Damon's competent. Doesn't mean I don't worry."
When we arrive at the mansion, pack members line the driveway. They bow as we pass—respect for their Alpha and new Luna.
Sara rushes forward, pulling me into a hug. "You're back! How was paradise?"
"Perfect," I admit, surprising myself.
"Look at you, all glowing and in love." She grins. "Marriage looks good on you."
Rian's arm wraps around my waist possessively. "He's taken, Sara."
"I'm aware, Alpha. I was at the wedding." She rolls her eyes. "Come on, Luca. Let me show you the changes we made to your studio."
Rian's reluctance to let me go is palpable through the bond.
"I'll be fine," I assure him. "Go do Alpha things."
"One hour. Then I'm finding you."
"Clingy," Sara and I say simultaneously.
He growls but releases me.
Sara leads me to my studio. They've expanded it—more space, better lighting, new supplies.
"The pack pooled resources," she explains. "Everyone wanted to contribute something for our Luna."
Emotion tightens my throat. "They didn't have to—"
"They wanted to. You're family now, Luca. We take care of family."
Family. I haven't had that since grandmother died.
"Thank you," I manage.
"Don't thank me. Thank the Alpha who's been bragging about his talented artist mate to anyone who'll listen."
I laugh despite myself. "He brags about me?"
"Constantly. It's actually annoying how in love he is."
Warmth floods through the bond—Rian felt that through our connection.
Miss you, his thought echoes.
It's been twenty minutes.
Exactly. Twenty minutes too long.
I shake my head, smiling. "He's ridiculous."
"He's in love." Sara squeezes my shoulder. "You both are. It's disgustingly cute."
Rian appears in the doorway exactly one hour later.
"Told you," Sara mutters.
He ignores her, eyes locked on me. "Ready for dinner?"
"Starving."
He takes my hand, leading me to the dining room. The pack has prepared a feast—welcome home celebration.
We eat surrounded by pack members, laughing and talking. Rian's hand rests on my thigh throughout, constant contact.
Later, in our bedroom, he pulls me close.
"Glad to be home?" he asks.
I think about it—the pack's acceptance, the studio, the comfortable belonging.
"Yeah," I admit. "I am."
His smile is brilliant. "Good. Because this is our home now. Our life."