Luca's POV
"We're going on a date," Rian announces.
"We're married. We live together. Every night is a date."
"A real date. Human-style. Dinner, movie, romance." His eyes are determined. "I want to court you properly."
"You already claimed me. Little late for courting."
"Humor me?"
I can't resist that hopeful expression. "Fine. But you're planning everything."
That evening, he presents me with a suit—tailored, expensive, perfect.
"How did you—"
"I know your measurements. Intimately." His smile is wicked.
I blush, remembering exactly how he learned them.
He drives us to the city—an hour away from pack lands. The restaurant is elegant, intimate, perfect.
"Reservation for Blackwood," he tells the host.
We're led to a private corner. Candles flicker between us.
"This is really nice," I admit.
"You deserve nice. Deserve to be romanced." He takes my hand across the table. "I forced so much at the beginning. Let me do this right."
Throughout dinner, he's attentive—asking about my art, my dreams, my happiness. Really listening.
"What do you want, Luca? Long-term?"
I think about it. "I want to keep painting. Maybe have shows. Share my art with the world."
"Then we'll make it happen. I'll support whatever you want."
"What about what you want?"
His thumb brushes my knuckles. "I have what I want. You. Happy and in love with me."
"You're sappy tonight."
"I'm in love tonight. Every night." He brings my hand to his lips. "Let me worship you, Luca. Let me show you what you mean to me."
After dinner, we skip the movie. The sexual tension is too thick.
In the car, his hand rests on my thigh, sliding higher.
"Home," I demand breathlessly. "Now."
He drives fast, barely legal. We stumble through the front door, mouths fused, hands desperate.
"Bedroom?" he gasps.
"Too far. Here. Now."
He lifts me against the wall, and I wrap around him. The kiss is fire and need and love.
"Love you," he growls against my throat. "Love you so fucking much."
"Prove it," I challenge.
He does. Right there against the wall, then on the stairs, finally making it to the bedroom for round three.
Hours later, thoroughly satisfied and wrapped in his arms, I smile against his chest.
"Best date ever," I murmur.
"We barely made it through dinner."
"Exactly." I kiss his shoulder. "Perfect."
He laughs, the sound rumbling through me. "Next time I'll plan better."
"Next time, skip straight to this part."
"Noted." His arms tighten. "Love you, baby."
"Love you too." I trace his mate mark—my mark on him. "Thank you for tonight. For trying to romance me properly."
"Always. Every day. Forever." He kisses the top of my head. "You deserve the world, Luca. And I'll spend my life giving it to you."
I believe him.