Rian's POV
"I want to open an art school," Luca announces one morning.
I look up from breakfast. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Teach kids—human and werewolf—art, creativity, expression." His eyes are bright with excitement. "What do you think?"
"I think it's perfect." I pull him into my lap. "Let's do it."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. Your dreams are my dreams." I kiss his forehead. "Tell me what you need."
We spend weeks planning. Finding a building, hiring teachers, setting up classes. Luca is in his element—excited, passionate, alive.
"You're glowing," I observe, watching him paint with students.
"I'm happy." He sets down his brush, approaching me. "Really, genuinely happy."
"Good. That's all I want. Your happiness."
The school opens to great success. Kids from all over come—wolves learning to control their strength through art, humans discovering pack culture through creativity.
"You're changing lives," I tell Luca one evening.
"We're changing lives. Together." He kisses me softly. "This is our legacy, Rian. Not just the pack. This."
That night, celebrating the school's success, he's extra affectionate. His hands wander over my body, teasing.
"Someone's needy," I observe.
"Someone's happy and wants to celebrate." He straddles me. "Problem?"
"Never." I pull him down for a kiss. "Celebrate away."
We make love slowly—joy and passion and love intertwined. Each touch is a celebration of dreams achieved, life built, future secured.
"I love you," he breathes. "So much."
"Love you more." I move deeper. "Proud of you, baby. So fucking proud."
"Proud of us." He arches against me. "We did this together."
Later, wrapped together and satisfied, he traces the bond mark on my chest.
"What's next?" he asks. "We've defeated enemies, renewed vows, opened a school. What's our next dream?"
I think about it. "Family. Real family. Children."
He tenses slightly. "You really want that?"
"Only if you do. No pressure." I stroke his hair. "But yes. I want to see you hold our child. Watch you be an incredible parent."
"I'm scared," he admits. "What if I'm bad at it?"
"Impossible. You're amazing with the kids at school." I tilt his face up. "But we don't have to rush. When you're ready."
"Ask me in a year. Let the school settle, let us settle." He kisses me softly. "Then maybe."
"Maybe is good enough." I pull him closer. "I have forever with you. That's all that matters."
"Forever," he agrees, snuggling against my chest.
We fall asleep planning futures—art schools, maybe children,