Chapter 170
Rebecca's POV
The morning after Ella's first full moon ceremony, I found myself drawn to the window in our master bedroom, gazing out over the vast expanse of the Sterling Manor. Golden sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the manicured lawn. Last night's ceremony had been powerful—introducing our daughter to the moon goddess, watching her eyes flash with recognition of her heritage.
I hummed softly, the same lullaby I'd sung to Ella before laying her down in her crib last night. The ancient melody had been taught to me by Marianne, passed down through generations of Luna mothers. My eyes drifted to the ornate oak crib where Ella slept peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. At just one months old, she already had her father's striking blue eyes and my stubborn chin.
Moving to the dresser to put away some clean clothes, I accidentally pulled the drawer out too far. It fell to the floor with a clatter that made me wince, my eyes immediately darting to Ella's crib. Thankfully, she didn't stir. As I knelt to gather the scattered items, my fingers brushed against something tucked far in the back of the drawer's housing—a leather-bound book I hadn't seen in ages.
I pulled it out, wiping a thin layer of dust from its cover. My sketchbook. Opening it gingerly, I flipped through pages of clothing designs I'd created years ago. Each pencil stroke represented dreams I'd once had—dreams of fashion school, of creating my own line, of seeing my designs worn by real people.
"Mama?"
Lucas's small voice startled me from my reverie. He stood in the doorway, his dark hair tousled from sleep, one small fist rubbing his eyes.
"Good morning, my little wolf," I said, opening my arms to him.
He toddled over and climbed into my lap, peering at the open sketchbook with interest. "Pretty," he said, pointing to a flowing evening gown I'd designed in another lifetime.
"That's something Mama drew a long time ago," I explained, running my hand through his soft hair.
"You make?" he asked, looking up at me with those serious eyes that were so like his father's.
The question gave me pause. Would I make these designs? Could I? Between being Luna, being a mother to two children, and all the responsibilities that came with those roles, was there room for the person I'd been before—the Rebecca who loved to create?
The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam as Dominic emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes immediately found mine, his expression shifting as he caught the hint of melancholy I couldn't quite hide.
"Did the ceremony tire you out too much?" he asked, crossing to the closet.
I shook my head, lifting Lucas to stand beside me as I rose from the floor. "Not exactly," I replied, holding up the sketchbook. "I found an old friend."
Dominic selected a crisp white shirt from the closet, his movements graceful and efficient as always. "Is that your sketchbook?" he asked, though I could tell from the subtle shift in his expression that he already knew.
"Yes. It's my dreams," I answered simply, placing the book on the bed and moving to check on Ella, who had begun to stir. I leaned over her crib, adjusting her blanket. "All the things I thought I might do someday."
Dominic buttoned his shirt, his eyes never leaving my face. "And now?" he asked quietly.
I lifted Ella from her crib as she began to fuss, cradling her against my shoulder and inhaling her sweet baby scent. Lucas climbed onto our bed, reaching for the sketchbook with curious fingers.
"Now I'm Luna to an entire pack. I'm mother to the most beautiful children in the world." I smiled down at Lucas, who was carefully turning the pages of my sketchbook. "I'm blessed beyond anything I could have imagined."
Dominic crossed the room to me, placing one hand on my lower back as he gazed down at our daughter. "But?" he prompted, hearing the unspoken word hanging in the air between us.
I sighed, leaning slightly into his touch. "But sometimes I wonder where she went—the Rebecca who filled that book with designs and dreams. The one who thought she might make something beautiful with her own hands someday."
Dominic took Ella from me, his large hands dwarfing our daughter's tiny form. He bounced her gently, his movements assured despite her fragility. He'd been just as natural with Lucas from the beginning—a fact that had surprised me, given his initial resistance to fatherhood.
"Show me," he said, nodding toward the sketchbook.
---
I sat beside Lucas on the bed, pulling the book into my lap. As I flipped through the pages, I explained each design to Dominic—the inspiration behind a particular silhouette, the way certain fabrics would drape, the technical challenges of various seams and structures.
"I still remember the suit you designed for me," he said with a smile, as if reminiscing. "The one with the little deer pattern embroidered on it. I really liked it."
Without waiting for my response, he looked into my eyes and asked, "Don't you want to restart your fashion design career?"
"It never seemed relevant," I admitted. "Being your mate, becoming Luna, having Lucas and now Ella—it's been a whirlwind. This part of me just... got set aside."
Dominic sat beside me, Ella now calm in the crook of his arm. With his free hand, he turned to the last page with a drawing—dated nearly three years ago.
"Thank you," he said suddenly, his voice deep with emotion.
"For what?" I asked, puzzled.
"For Lucas and Ella. For everything you've given up to be their mother and my Luna." His eyes, those intense blue eyes that still made my heart skip, were solemn. "But Rebecca, did it ever occur to you that now might be the perfect time to reclaim this part of yourself?"
I blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "Now? With a newborn and a toddler and pack responsibilities?"
"Now," he confirmed, shifting Ella slightly as she made a small sound. "The pack is stable. We have resources—Diana, Marianne, others who love our children. And you..."
"What about me?" I asked, feeling Lucas lean against my side, his small fingers still tracing the designs in my book.
"You've given everything to everyone else. Perhaps it's time you reclaimed something for yourself." Dominic's gaze was steady, unflinching. "Isn't that what we want to teach our children? That they can be many things, fulfill many roles without losing themselves?"
Ella began to fuss in earnest now, her tiny face scrunching as she prepared to cry. I automatically reached for her, recognizing the signs of hunger. As I settled her to nurse, Lucas snuggled closer to my side, peering at his sister with the mixture of fascination and slight jealousy that had characterized his reaction to her since her birth.
"I don't know," I said honestly, adjusting Ella as she latched. "The City Arts Academy's new semester starts soon. They have a fashion design program that I've always wanted to take, but Ella's so small. She needs me."
Dominic watched us, his expression softening as it always did when he saw me nursing our children. "She does need you," he agreed. "As does Lucas, as do I, as does the pack. But that doesn't mean the children and the pack should be reasons you abandon your dreams."
He rose, moving to finish dressing for the day. "Think about it," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. "We'll find a balance if that's what you want."
I looked down at Ella, her eyes closed in contentment as she nursed, then at Lucas, who had returned to examining my sketches with careful attention. Could I really do this? Could I be Luna, mother, and still pursue the dreams I'd set aside?
"Maybe," I said softly, more to myself than to Dominic. "Maybe I could."