Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 108

Eileen

I woke to pale dawn light, and for a moment, I simply lay still, drinking in the familiar warmth of our bedroom. The sheets still carried Regis's cedar-and-mint scent, the pillow beside mine bore the indent of his head, and everywhere I looked held some small memory—his hand covering mine on this mattress, his voice murmuring reassurances in the dark, the way he'd trace gentle circles on my swelling belly until I fell asleep.

These fragments of our life together settled into my chest like stones in a riverbed, solid and anchoring. Whatever waited for me at the border, I would carry this with me: proof that I was loved, that I was wanted, that I was no longer alone.

I pressed my palm to my abdomen, where our child rested safe. "We're going to do something important today," I whispered. "But we'll come back three months later."

Downstairs, I found the table already laden with breakfast. Regis stood by the window, hands braced on the sill, his shoulders tight. When he heard my footsteps, he turned, and the tension in his face eased fractionally.

"You need to eat," he said quietly, pulling out a chair for me. "It's going to be a long day. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Everything's fine." I caught his hand, smiling. "I was just thinking how many warm moments we've had in this house."

"So was I," he murmured, brushing a kiss against my cheek. "I love our time here."

We finished breakfast together, then made the final preparations before leaving.

"I'm going to check the study—make sure we didn't miss anything," he said.

While he was gone, I returned upstairs for one last look around the room. My travel bag sat by the door, neatly packed. But when I opened the wardrobe to check for anything forgotten, my gaze snagged on the small bundle tucked in the corner—the baby clothes we'd bought at the market, soft wool in shades of cream and pale blue, tiny sleeves that would fit a doll.

My throat tightened. I lifted the bundle, held it against my cheek, and for a heartbeat I let myself imagine: a small warm weight in my arms, Regis's smile as he cradled our child, the three of us safe in this house. The image was so vivid it ached.

*I'm not leaving you behind,* I thought, and carefully folded the clothes into the remaining space in my bag, tucking them between books and jars of salve. When I closed the latch, it felt like sealing a promise.

---

The Academy courtyard was already crowded when we arrived. Students clustered around their luggage, voices pitched with excitement or nerves, and I felt the weight of curious stares as I stepped down from the carriage. Some glances were sympathetic, others skeptical, but I kept my chin level and my hand resting protectively over my abdomen.

Professor Ward stood near the center of the group. When she caught my eye, she offered a small, encouraging nod. I returned it, grateful.

Near the designated carriage, Nina waited with a book already open in her hands, her posture as remote and unapproachable as ever. I took a breath, steeling myself for the hours ahead.

Then a breathless shout cut through the noise.

"Eileen!"

I turned just in time to see Mira barreling toward me, her own travel bag slung over one shoulder and a grin splitting her face. She skidded to a halt beside the carriage assigned to us, eyes widening as one of the porters hefted my large trunk aboard.

"Blessed Moon," she breathed, staring at the trunk. "Eileen, what did you *pack*? It looks like you're preparing for a siege!"

Heat crept into my cheeks. "Regis insisted I bring—"

"Wait." Mira held up a hand, her grin turning positively wicked. "You're telling me the terrifying Alpha Vane *packed you a survival kit*?" She leaned closer, peering at the trunk as though she could see through it. "What's in there? Three cloaks? A backup tent?"

"Mira—"

"Oh Goddess, you could open a shop with all that!"

A low, pointed cough sounded behind me. I turned to find Regis standing a few paces away, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in a look of exaggerated dignity that did nothing to hide the faint color on his cheekbones.

Mira didn't even try to muffle her laugh. "I'm sorry, Alpha Vane, but you have to admit—this is *adorable.*"

Regis's mouth twitched, just barely. "I prefer the term 'thorough.'"

"Sure," Mira said, utterly unrepentant. "Thorough. Let's go with that."

Despite everything—despite the nerves knotting in my stomach and the uncertainty looming ahead—I laughed. It bubbled up helpless and bright, and for just a moment the tension cracked open, letting in air and light.

Regis caught my gaze, and something in his expression softened. Through the bond, I felt a flicker of warmth, tinged with rueful affection. *She's not wrong,* Valdor muttered in the back of my mind, and I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing again.

"Come on," Mira said, tugging at my elbow. "Let's get settled before Professor Ward starts headcounting."

---

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere shifted. The cushions were plush, the space generous compared to the larger wagons meant for the other students, but it still felt confined. Mira claimed the seat beside me with her usual exuberance, immediately launching into speculation about what the border camp would be like. Across from us, Nina sat perfectly still, her book open in her lap, gaze fixed on the pages as though we didn't exist.

I tried not to let it sting.

After a few minutes of Mira's cheerful chatter meeting only silence from Nina's corner, Mira's smile thinned. She leaned closer to me, voice dropping to a stage whisper that Nina could definitely still hear.

"You know, *you're* the one who fought to get her this spot," Mira said pointedly. "She could at least *pretend* to be grateful."

Nina's eyes flicked up, cool and unreadable. "Thank you for the opportunity, Wylde," she said, her tone perfectly even. Then she returned to her book without waiting for a reply.

Mira opened her mouth—probably to say something scathing—but I gently nudged her knee.

"It's fine," I murmured. "She has her reasons. Let's just focus on the mission."

Mira huffed but subsided, muttering something under her breath about "ice queens" and "common courtesy." I settled back against the seat, letting the conversation drift around me, and turned my gaze toward the window.