CHAPTER 128: CHAPTER 128 OUR ONE-YEAR, ONE LIFE

Victoria

The weeks following our anniversary celebration flew by with dizzying speed, happiness accelerating time until our honeymoon’s conclusion loomed on the horizon. During these precious days, my artistic abilities had flourished unexpectedly, my hands seemingly guided by some primal wolf instinct to document and preserve every meaningful moment between us.

Each evening while Leo attended to pack business calls, I’d retreat to the villa’s terrace overlooking the Aegean Sea. There, with the Mediterranean breeze carrying the scent of salt and cypress, I would sketch and paint our journey together—the misunderstanding at the beach, our reconciliation, our passionate reconnection in the wine cellar, and countless tender moments between.

Today marked my final lesson with Nicos, the local artist who’d become both mentor and friend during our stay.

"You have something special, Victoria," Nicos said as he carefully wrapped the commissioned portrait he’d completed of Leo and me. "Your technique has improved, certainly, but more importantly, you capture emotion in a way few artists manage even after decades of practice."

The painting was exquisite—Leo standing behind me, his powerful arms wrapped possessively around my waist, his eyes containing that rare softness only I was privileged to witness. Meanwhile, my expression held both vulnerability and strength, the diamond wolf pendant gleaming against my skin, marking me as his Luna.

"Thank you for everything," I told Nicos, embracing the older man who’d become something of a father figure during our stay. "I’ll treasure what you’ve taught me."

With the wrapped portrait carefully secured, I made my way back to the villa, eager to share my final project with Leo. I found him on the phone, his deep voice resonating with authority as he gave instructions to Tiny about pack matters back home. Even in relaxation, my Alpha exuded power, his muscled form casually sprawled across the outdoor sofa, one arm tucked behind his head.

His eyes tracked me hungrily as I approached, his business facade momentarily slipping to reveal the predatory interest that still flared between us, even after weeks of nearly constant intimacy.

"I need to go, Tiny," he said into the phone, his gaze never leaving mine. "My Luna requires my attention."

The casual possessiveness in his tone sent a delicious shiver down my spine. No matter how many times he claimed me, the thrill never diminished.

"Is that the portrait?" Leo asked after ending the call, nodding toward the package in my arms.

"It is," I confirmed, carefully unwrapping it and propping it against the wall for his inspection.

Leo’s reaction was everything I’d hoped for. His eyes widened slightly—a significant display of emotion for my usually controlled mate—before darkening with pleasure and pride.

"This is how you see us," he said softly, rising to stand before the painting. His fingers hovered over the canvas without touching, tracing the outline of our painted forms.

"This is how we are," I corrected gently.

Leo turned to the portfolio where I’d collected my other sketches and paintings. With reverent hands, he flipped through each piece—scenes of us walking along the beach at sunset, sharing meals at local tavernas, dancing under the stars at our anniversary celebration, and more intimate moments that made his eyes flash gold with remembered passion.

"Now I understand," he murmured, pulling me against his chest. "This wasn’t just about learning a new skill. You’re creating our story."

I nodded against him, inhaling his intoxicating scent—sandalwood, citrus, and that unique musk that was purely Leo. "In wolf packs, oral traditions preserve history. But I wanted something we could see, something tangible to show our children someday."

Leo’s arms tightened around me at the mention of children, his possessive instincts flaring. "Our legacy," he growled approvingly, nuzzling the mating mark on my neck.

Later that evening, Leo insisted on taking me to the finest restaurant in the village for our final Greek dinner. The establishment, perched on cliffs overlooking the sea, served traditional dishes with modern flair. As the waiter approached with a platter of fresh seafood, the usually appetizing aroma hit me like a physical blow.

"Is something wrong with the food?" Leo asked the waiter sharply, noticing my sudden pallor.

"N-no," I managed, pressing my napkin to my mouth as nausea rolled through me in waves. "It’s not the food, it’s me. I need some air."

Leo was instantly at my side, supporting me as we stepped onto the restaurant’s terrace. His concern radiated through our bond as he held my hair back when my stomach rebelled completely.

"Victoria," he said, his voice unusually tentative as he helped me rinse my mouth with water from a glass a concerned waiter had brought. "When was your last moon cycle?"

The question stopped me cold. With everything that had happened—the anniversary planning, the painting lessons, our passionate reconciliation—I hadn’t been tracking my cycle.

"I’m late," I whispered, meeting his intense gaze. "Very late."

The restaurant manager,immediately offered his assistance. Within twenty minutes, we were at the private wolf-run medical clinic that served supernatural beings in the region.

The doctor, an elegant she-wolf in her fifties, confirmed what we’d begun to suspect after a quick examination and blood test.

"Congratulations, Alpha Moretti, Luna Howlthorne-Moretti," she announced with a warm smile. "You’re approximately six weeks pregnant."

The world seemed to stop rotating for a breathless moment. Six weeks—which meant conception had likely happened during our first night here in Greece. Leo’s face transformed in a way I’d never witnessed before—shock giving way to awe, then fierce pride and possessive joy.

"A pup," he breathed, his usual eloquence deserting him as he placed a trembling hand on my still-flat stomach. "Our pup."

Tears filled my eyes as I covered his large hand with my smaller one. Through our bond, I felt the overwhelming surge of his emotions—protectiveness, pride, love, and a primal satisfaction that his seed had taken root in me.

"I’ve created life within you," he said, his voice rough with emotion as he pressed his forehead against mine. "You’re carrying my heir."

The doctor smiled indulgently at us. "Everything appears healthy, though given your mixed heritage, Luna, we’ll want to monitor the pregnancy closely. Half-wolf, half-human pregnancies can sometimes present unique challenges."

Leo’s head snapped up, his protective instincts immediately on high alert. "What kind of challenges?"

"Nothing to worry about immediately," the doctor assured him. "Just more frequent checkups than a typical wolf pregnancy would require. Your Luna is young and healthy."

As we left the clinic, Leo kept me tucked protectively against his side, his hand splayed possessively over my abdomen. Though outwardly composed, I could feel through our bond how deeply this news had affected him.

"We’ll return home immediately," he decided as we walked back to the villa. "You need our pack healer monitoring you, proper rest, the right foods—"

I laughed softly, cutting off his concerned planning. "Leo, I’m pregnant, not invalid. Women have been doing this since the beginning of time."

His eyes flashed gold in the moonlight. "But not all women are carrying the Shadow Pack heir. Not all women are my mate, my Luna." He pulled me against him, his kiss surprisingly gentle compared to the intensity of his words. "You’ve given me something I never thought I’d have, Victoria."

"What’s that?" I asked, leaning into his strength.

"A family of my own," he answered simply, the rare vulnerability in his voice making my heart constrict.