Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 11

Regis

I arrived at the training grounds half an hour early, ostensibly to check the protective wards and arrange the equipment, but Valdor knew the truth—we were hunting for *her* scent.

"She'll be here," my wolf insisted, pacing restlessly in my mind. "All healing track students. The academy mandate applies to everyone."

"*If* she's still enrolled," I countered, forcing myself to focus on inspecting the boundary stones. "We don't even know her name yet. She could have transferred. Could have left the academy entirely after—"

"She didn't leave." Valdor's certainty was absolute, the kind of bone-deep knowing that came from the mate bond itself. "I'd feel it if she were gone. The bond would stretch, ache. She's close. She's always been close."

He was right, damn him. Ever since that night in the Whispering Woods, there'd been a constant awareness at the edge of my consciousness—a warmth, a presence that felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. It had grown stronger over the weekend, pulling me toward the western edge of campus where the student dormitories clustered.

But I'd forced myself to wait. To give her time. To approach this rationally, as an instructor rather than a desperate Alpha chasing his mate across campus like some lovesick fool.

The students began arriving in clusters, their voices carrying across the open space. I stayed in the shadows near the equipment shed, letting Valdor search the crowd through my senses. Lavender. Rosemary. Cinnamon. Dozens of scents, none of them *hers*.

And then—

Chamomile. Sweet apple. The scent hit me like a physical blow, and Valdor *howled* in my mind.

"There! She's there! I told you, I told you she'd come!"

But something was wrong. The scent was muted, dampened, overlaid with sage and other masking herbs. My wolf's joy turned to confused hurt in an instant.

"Why is she hiding from us? Why doesn't she want us to find her?"

I gripped the edge of the stone wall, knuckles white, fighting the urge to shift right there and tear through the crowd until I found her. *Because we marked her without her permission*, I reminded him grimly. *Because she woke up with a stranger's claim on her neck and probably spent the entire weekend terrified.*

"But we're *mates*," Valdor whined, sounding almost pitiful. "She should feel safe with us. She should *want* us."

"She doesn't know us." The words tasted bitter. "And after what we did, she has every reason to be afraid."

I forced myself to take a steadying breath, to think like the combat instructor I was supposed to be rather than the Alpha whose mate was somewhere in that crowd, deliberately masking her scent to avoid him. The masking herbs were good—professional-grade, the kind healers used when working with patients sensitive to scents. But they couldn't hide everything, not from an Alpha specifically attuned to her frequency.

I tracked the scent to the back of the crowd, where two girls stood close together. One was gesturing animatedly, her wolf-spirit bright and bold in her aura—confident and outspoken. The other...

She had her head down, shoulders hunched, practically hiding behind her friend. Even from this distance, I could see the tension in her posture, the way she kept one hand pressed to the scarf wrapped around her neck.

*There*. That had to be her. The one trying to make herself invisible, to disappear into the crowd like she'd never been there at all.

Valdor surged forward in my mind, desperate to close the distance, but I held him back with iron will. *Not yet. We can't scare her. We need to do this carefully.*

"Carefully?" My wolf snarled. "She's *right there*. Our mate. Our—"

"Our student," I cut him off. "Which means we handle this professionally. We confirm her identity, we find a way to speak with her privately, and we give her the choice we should have given her that night."

Even if the thought of her rejecting the bond made something in my chest feel like it was being torn apart.

I stepped out of the shadows, and the crowd went silent.

---

The students turned as one, a sea of curious faces and nervous energy. I let my gaze sweep across them, projecting the calm authority of an instructor while Valdor clawed frantically at my control.

"I am Regis Vane," I said, keeping my voice level and professional. "From today forward, I will be your combat defense instructor. Over the coming months, I will teach you how to survive when healing isn't enough—how to assess threats, find cover, and buy time for help to arrive."

A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd. I ignored it, focusing on the lesson plan I'd prepared, on anything except the chamomile scent calling to me from the back rows.

But Valdor had other ideas.

My wolf's attention kept dragging my gaze back to that spot, to the girl with her head down and her hand on her neck. She was trying so hard to be invisible, and every protective instinct I possessed was screaming at me to go to her, to pull her into my arms and promise that she was safe, that I would *never* let anyone hurt her.

*Including yourself*, a bitter voice whispered in my mind. *You already did hurt her. You took her choice away.*

I forced my attention back to the class, walking them through basic defensive stances, escape routes, the importance of awareness. But I was acutely conscious of her presence, of the way she flinched slightly whenever my voice rose, of how she kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

She was afraid of me. Terrified, even. And I had no one to blame but myself.

"Now then," I said, needing to shift the dynamic before Valdor's frustration made me do something foolish. "Let's test your foundational knowledge. When treating an injured wolf, what's the first priority?"

I deliberately looked toward the animated girl I'd noticed earlier—the one who'd been chattering excitedly before class started. She was in the fifth row, wearing a green tunic.

"Fifth row, center—the student in green. Your answer?"

The girl stood without hesitation, her confidence clear. "Ensure heartbeat and breathing are stable, Instructor."

"Correct. Your name?"

"Mira Thornwood, Instructor."

I filed the name away, noting how she'd immediately glanced at her friend when I'd called on her—protective body language, a hand on the other girl's shoulder. *Her closest friend*, I realized. *Someone who might be willing to carry a message, if approached correctly.*

"Well answered, Miss Thornwood." I paused, then shifted my attention deliberately. "Next question. When facing a high-ranking Alpha attack and unable to shift, what's a healer's optimal survival strategy?"

This time, I let my gaze move to the girl beside Mira—the one trying to disappear into the crowd. "Miss Thornwood's companion, the student in gray with the scarf. Please stand and answer."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, she rose to her feet.

The world seemed to narrow to just her. Even with her head down, even with the scarf hiding the mark I'd left, I could feel the bond between us pulling taut, singing with recognition. Valdor went absolutely still in my mind, every fiber of his being focused on *her*.

"Did you hear the question?" I kept my voice gentle, fighting to maintain the instructor's mask when every Alpha instinct was roaring at me to go to her, to comfort her, to make that terrified trembling *stop*.

She was breathing too fast, her hands clenched at her sides. Around her, students were starting to stare, to whisper. I saw Mira lean in, murmuring something encouraging.

"Find... cover," she finally managed, her voice barely audible. "Release a distress signal. Avoid direct confrontation."

"The basic principle is sound." I deliberately softened my tone further, hoping to ease some of her panic. "Your name, student?"

She looked up then—just for a second—and our eyes met.