Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 119

Eileen

The morning air at the medical station carried the sharp bite of frost, but inside the supply room, the scent of dried herbs and antiseptic provided a strange comfort. I was sorting through bandage rolls when Nina finally arrived, nearly an hour past her usual time.

She looked terrible. The dark circles under her eyes had deepened to bruised shadows, and her normally pale complexion had taken on an almost translucent quality. Her movements were careful, controlled—the kind of deliberate precision that came from someone trying very hard not to fall apart.

"Nina?" Dr. Hawthorne's voice carried concern as he glanced up from his notes. "Are you feeling unwell? You should have sent word if you needed rest."

"Just didn't sleep well." Nina's response was clipped, her gaze sliding past me as if I weren't there. "I'll be fine in a day or two."

The memory of last night's muffled sobbing echoed in my mind. I wanted to reach out, to ask if she was alright, but she'd made it clear she didn't want my concern. Dr. Hawthorne studied her for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Very well. But if you need to take a break, don't hesitate." Nina moved toward the medicine cabinet, her shoulders rigid with tension.

I returned to my task, though my attention kept drifting to her. Every movement she made seemed weighted with exhaustion and something else—something that looked uncomfortably like fear.

---

The afternoon brought Silas, as it often did these days. His visits had developed a pattern—always in the quieter hours after lunch, always with that same pleasant smile that never quite reached his eyes. Today was no different. He appeared in the doorway of the pharmacy where I was preparing a fresh batch of the improved infection salve.

"Eileen, good afternoon." He stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back. "I was just reviewing this week's reports. Your work on modifying the treatment protocols has been impressive."

"Thank you." I tried to match his easy tone while measuring out precise amounts of moonwort extract. "Dr. Hawthorne has been an excellent mentor."

"You're too modest." Silas moved closer. "This kind of innovation doesn't come from simply following instructions."

The compliment should have pleased me, but something about the way he said it made my skin prickle. I focused on grinding the silvered root into powder.

"I understand there are three trainees assigned to this station," he continued, his tone shifting to something more conversational. "Yet in my visits here, I've only had the pleasure of meeting you and your friend Mira. The reports mention a third—Nina Grey, wasn't it?"

My hand paused for just a fraction of a second before resuming its circular motion in the mortar. "Nina prefers to work independently. She's quite skilled but solitary by nature. And the station is large enough that we're often in different areas—I'm usually here in the pharmacy or treating wounds, while she handles inventory in the back storage rooms."

It was true enough. Nina had always kept to herself. But as I spoke, a strange realization crept over me: Silas had visited five times in the past two weeks. Five separate occasions. And never once had he encountered Nina?

"Ah, I see." Silas nodded thoughtfully. "No matter. I was simply curious. With such impressive work being done, I wanted to ensure all three of you were receiving proper recognition."

"That's very kind of you."

"Well, I won't keep you from your work." He stepped back toward the door. "Do let me know if there's anything you need."

"I will. Thank you."

He left with a final nod, and I stood there staring at the doorway long after he'd gone. The coincidence bothered me more than I wanted to admit. Five visits. Never once crossing paths with Nina. And now suddenly asking about her.

I returned to my work, but the conversation replayed itself over and over, each repetition making the strange wrongness of it more apparent.

---

By the time evening arrived, I was exhausted. Mira caught up with me as I was leaving the station, her cheerful energy a stark contrast to my troubled thoughts.

"Another day, another batch of soldiers convinced that herbs can fix anything," she said with a laugh, linking her arm through mine. "Though I have to say, that Silas is really dedicated. He was here again today, wasn't he?"

"Mmm. He was asking about Nina."

"Nina?" Mira's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"That's what I told him. But doesn't it seem strange that he's been here so many times and never run into her?"

Mira considered this, her playfulness fading. "Now that you mention it... yeah, that is weird. This place isn't exactly a maze." She squeezed my arm. "You think something's off about him?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

"Well, you've got good instincts." Mira's voice turned serious. "If something feels wrong, trust that feeling."

I hugged her quickly, grateful for her steady presence, then turned toward the path that led to the birch grove. Despite my troubled thoughts, anticipation warmed my chest as I drew closer to the hidden cottage.

---

The door opened before I could reach for the handle. Regis stood silhouetted in the firelight, his expression softening the moment he saw me. Without a word, he pulled me inside and into his arms, and I buried my face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of cedar and mint.

"Rough day?" His voice rumbled against my ear, one hand stroking my hair.

"Not rough, exactly. Just... confusing."

He guided me to the sofa by the fire, settling me against his side. "Tell me."

So I did. I explained about Nina's worsening condition, about Silas's seemingly innocent question, about the strange coincidence of his repeated visits never intersecting with her presence. Regis listened without interrupting, his jaw tightening slightly.

"You think Silas is looking for her specifically," he said when I finished. It wasn't a question.

"I don't know what to think." Frustration leaked into my voice. "Maybe I'm reading too much into it. He's never been anything but polite to me."

"Your instincts brought you into a forest to save a dying wolf you'd never met." Regis caught my chin gently, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "Don't discount them now. If something feels wrong about Silas's interest in Nina, there's probably a reason."

"But what can I do? She won't talk to me. She won't accept help."

"No, you can't force her to trust you." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "But you can make sure she knows you're there if she needs you. Beyond that... you can't carry her battles for her, love. You can offer a hand, but you can't force her to take it."

The truth of that settled over me like a weight and a relief all at once. "I just hate seeing her in pain."

"I know." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "But remember—you're carrying our child. Your first responsibility is to keep yourself safe."

As if in response to his words, a flutter of movement rippled across my belly. I gasped softly, pressing my hand to the spot. Regis's attention immediately sharpened.

"Was that—?" His hand covered mine, larger and warmer.

"I think so. The baby's been more active lately."

Regis shifted, kneeling on the floor in front of me so he was eye-level with my slightly rounded stomach. With infinite care, he placed both palms against the fabric of my dress.

"Hello, little one," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low rumble that never failed to make my heart skip. "Your mother's been working very hard to help others. But you need to be gentle with her, understand?"

I felt it again—that definite press against my belly, as if the baby was responding to its father's voice. Tears pricked my eyes as I covered Regis's hands with mine.

"I think someone knows their papa," I whispered.

He looked up at me, and the raw emotion in his eyes—love, protectiveness, wonder—stole my breath. "I can feel it through the bond. Our child's presence. It's like... starlight. Faint but unmistakable."

"Starlight," I repeated softly. "That's beautiful."

Regis rose, gathering me into his arms and carrying me toward the bedroom. "You need rest. And I need to hold you while you get it."

I didn't protest. He settled us both on the bed, arranging the blankets before pulling me back against his chest.

"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "I want you to be extra careful around Silas. Keep conversations brief and professional. Don't be alone with him if you can help it."

"You really think he's dangerous?" Despite the fire and blankets and Regis's solid warmth, a chill ran through me.

"I think anyone sent by Cornelius bears watching. And there are too many coincidences piling up for comfort. Promise me you'll be cautious."

"I promise." I laced my fingers through his where they rested over my heart. "Are you... is everything alright at the training camp? You seem tired."

There was a pause, subtle enough that I might have missed it if I weren't so attuned to him. "Just some administrative headaches. Supply chain issues. Nothing urgent."

He was hiding something. Not lying, exactly, but definitely not telling me everything. The realization should have hurt, but instead I felt a strange understanding. He had responsibilities he couldn't share, just as I had healing work that involved confidential matters. Trust didn't mean knowing everything—it meant believing in each other even when some things remained unspoken.

"Then rest while you can," I murmured, turning to press a kiss to his jaw. "We both need it."

His answering kiss landed in my hair, gentle and lingering. Outside, moonlight painted the snow-covered birch grove in silver, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled—a lonely sound that spoke of vast territories and ancient wildness.

I closed my eyes, letting Regis's steady heartbeat lull me toward sleep. Tomorrow would bring whatever challenges it brought.