Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 107

Regis

"You know Silas Crowe is Cornelius's creature, right?" Kieran asked as we walked the empty corridor afterward.

"Of course." I kept my voice low. "But what choice did I have? Refusing would've proven I don't trust Eileen to stand on her own merits."

"She'll understand. That woman can handle more than you think."

"I know she can handle it," I said quietly. "I just hate that she *has* to."

Kieran studied me for a long moment. "You've changed, you know. Six months ago, you would've calculated the political angles, weighed the strategic implications. Now you're barely holding yourself together because your mate might face scrutiny."

"Is that a criticism?"

"An observation." He clapped my shoulder. "And for what it's worth, I like you better this way. Just... remember you're also responsible for an entire Academy and ongoing reforms. Don't lose sight of the bigger picture."

"Keep an eye on Crowe," I said instead of responding. "Document everything. If he so much as speaks to her disrespectfully—"

"I'll hold him down while you tear his throat out," Kieran finished dryly. "I know the drill."

---

When I finally returned to our rooms that evening, exhaustion pulled at my bones. The Council meeting, followed by hours of damage control and strategic planning, had drained me. But the moment I opened the door and caught Eileen's scent—chamomile and apples, home and safety—some of the tension eased from my shoulders.

She was packing in our bedroom, clothes spread across the bed in organized piles. When she looked up and smiled, radiant despite her own long day, I felt something in my chest crack open.

"Professor Ward announced it officially today," she was saying, moving between her dresser and the bed with quick efficiency. "She told the whole class that Nina and I would be attending the border posting, and Mira would be coming as my learning assistant." She laughed, the sound bright and untroubled. "You should've seen their faces. No one dared say a word after yesterday, and—"

She paused, finally seeming to notice I hadn't moved from the doorway.

"Regis?" Her smile faded. "You're not listening, are you?"

I was listening—to every word, treasuring the excitement in her voice, the confidence that had grown so much in recent months. But I was also seeing her through Cornelius's eyes, hearing again how casually he'd questioned whether she was worthy, whether I was compromised.

My silence must have worried her. She crossed to me, one hand coming up to cup my jaw. "What happened?"

There was no hiding from her, not anymore. I guided her to sit on the bed's edge, then knelt before her so we were at eye level.

"The Council agreed to punish Derek and Celeste," I said, keeping my voice level. "But there's a condition."

Her hand found mine instinctively. "What kind of condition?"

"They're sending an observer with you to the border." The words tasted like ash. "To assess your performance during the posting."

I watched her face carefully—the brief flash of hurt, quickly covered by understanding. She was too perceptive not to grasp the implications.

"They want me to prove I'm worthy of being your Luna," she said quietly.

"It's not about worthiness—"

"It's exactly about that." She squeezed my hand. "They think you're protecting me because of the mate bond, not because I actually earned my place." A pause. "And they're right, aren't they? You did protect me. You stood in that quad and claimed me in front of everyone."

"I would do it again," I said fiercely. "A thousand times."

"I know." Her free hand came up to cradle my cheek, thumb brushing along my jaw. "And I'm grateful. But I also understand what you're trying to tell me." She took a shaky breath. "If I refuse the observer, they'll say you're hiding me because I can't meet expectations. If I go and struggle, they'll use it as evidence I don't belong in this position."

"Eileen—"

"But if I go and do well..." Her voice strengthened. "Then they have to shut up and accept that I earned this. That you didn't make a mistake choosing me."

Through our bond, I felt her fear and determination in equal measure. She understood the trap perfectly, understood that there was no safe path forward—only the choice to meet the challenge head-on or let them win by default.

"I'm supposed to protect you," I said, my voice rough. "That's my role, my responsibility. And instead, I'm—"

"You're teaching me to protect myself." She leaned forward until our foreheads touched. "You're showing me I'm strong enough to face this. That's worth more than any shield you could put between me and the world."

I closed my eyes, breathing in her scent, letting it anchor me. "I don't want you to have to prove anything to them."

"Neither do I." A soft laugh. "But you told me something once, remember? In your father's study, when I asked if you thought I could handle the border posting." Her fingers threaded through my hair. "You said, 'You saved my life when I was dying. You created a cure when experts had given up. You're carrying my child while maintaining top grades in your program. The question isn't whether you can handle it—it's whether anyone else could do half of what you've already accomplished.'"

I hadn't realized she'd remembered every word.

"So here's what I think," she continued, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her eyes. "I think they're giving me a chance to show every single person in this Academy exactly what I'm capable of. And when I do, when that observer files their report and has to admit I exceeded every expectation—" Her smile turned fierce. "—they'll have to acknowledge that you didn't choose poorly. That I *am* worthy of standing beside you."

Valdor surged with pride and possessive satisfaction. This was my mate—brave and brilliant, turning their insult into an opportunity to prove them wrong.

I pulled her into my lap, needing her closer. "You have nothing to prove to me," I murmured against her hair. "You never did."

"I know." Her arms came around my neck. "But maybe I need to prove it to myself. Need to know that when people respect me, it's because I earned it, not because I'm your mate."

Through the bond, I felt the truth of it—her need to forge her own identity, to be recognized for her own accomplishments. It was one of the things I loved most about her, this determination to stand on her own merit.

But it didn't make it easier to watch her walk into a situation designed to make her fail.

"Promise me something," I said, pulling back enough to meet her eyes. "If Crowe oversteps, if he makes you uncomfortable or undermines your authority—you tell me immediately."

"I will." She pressed a kiss to my jaw. "But you have to promise me something too."

"Anything."

"Promise you'll trust that I can handle this. That you won't see every challenge as something you need to rescue me from." Her hands framed my face. "I need to know you believe I'm strong enough."

The irony wasn't lost on me—she was comforting *me*, steadying my fear when she was the one facing scrutiny and judgment.

"I believe in you more than I've ever believed in anyone," I told her honestly. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting to eliminate anything that threatens you."

"I know." She smiled, understanding and exasperated in equal measure. "My fierce, overprotective Alpha."

I kissed her then, slow and deep, pouring everything I couldn't articulate into the contact. Pride and fear and absolute faith, apology and promise and desperate, aching love.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she rested her forehead against mine again.

"We'll get through this," she whispered. "Together."

And despite everything—despite Cornelius's machinations and the Council's doubts and the scrutiny awaiting us—I believed her.