Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 16

Eileen

I should have kept walking. Should have taken the long way around. But something made me stop, made me edge closer to the stone pillar and listen.

"—heard Wylde's little shadow finally gave up on you," one of his friends was saying, his tone mocking. "Took her long enough."

"Who knows?" Derek's voice, casual and dismissive. "Maybe she found some other poor bastard to follow around. Not like a wolfless waste like her has many options."

"Didn't you used to be nice to her, though?" another voice chimed in.

Derek laughed—sharp, cruel. "I was *polite*. There's a difference. Girls like that, you give them a little attention and they're obsessed. Honestly, it was pathetic. Like watching a puppy beg for scraps."

The three of them burst into laughter, and I felt something inside me crack.

Not my heart—that had already broken over Derek. This was something else. Something colder and clearer.

*I wasted a year on him,* I thought, the realization settling over me like ice. *A whole year, and he never saw me as anything but a joke.*

I didn't cry. Didn't confront them. I just turned and walked away, my steps steady and my head high.

Derek Ashford wasn't worth my tears. He never had been.

---

By the time I got back to the dormitory, my hands still smelled faintly of onions and dishwater despite scrubbing them twice. The kitchen had been warm and busy, the head cook—a kind Beta woman named Greta—greeting me with her usual smile and a basket of vegetables to chop. I'd fallen into the rhythm of it easily, letting the repetitive motions soothe the chaos in my head.

Peel. Chop. Rinse. Repeat.

By the time the dinner rush was over and Greta sent me home with a small bag of honey cookies, I'd felt almost steady again.

Almost.

Now, pushing open the dormitory door, I found Mira sprawled on her bed with a textbook, her hair still damp from washing up. She looked up when I came in, her expression brightening.

"Eil! There you are. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost." Her eyes landed on the paper bag in my hands. "Ooh, are those Greta's cookies?"

I handed her one, sank onto my own bed. "She said we've been working too hard."

Mira bit into the cookie, moaning dramatically. "Moon bless that woman. I swear, her baking is the only thing getting me through Advanced Field Medicine." She chewed thoughtfully, then fixed me with a look. "So... how'd it go with Instructor Vane?"

My stomach clenched. I'd known she'd ask, but I still wasn't prepared. "Fine. He just gave me the communicator. Nothing dramatic."

She studied me for a moment, her brow furrowing. "You sure? You look kind of... I don't know. Off."

"Just tired," I said quickly, reaching for a cookie I didn't really want. "Long day."

Mira didn't push, but I could feel her eyes on me as I nibbled at the edge of the cookie, my mind still spinning with everything I'd read in the library. *Five to ten days. Incompleteness. Insufficient to sustain a mating relationship.*

"Hey," Mira said suddenly, her voice gentler. "Real talk—are you going home for the break next week?"

Mira was talking about the monthly three-day break, designed specifically for students to travel home—even those from distant districts could make the round trip.

But my stomach clenched harder. I set the cookie down. "Yeah... I have to. Last month I stayed to work on the herb garden, and my parents weren't happy about it."

Mira's expression darkened immediately. "Eil, I'm going to say this one more time: your parents are *terrible*. Your mom literally came here last month to ask if you could send money home for Gareth's new training armor. You work yourself to the bone, and they don't even *ask* how you're doing. They just want to know if your brother's doing well."

I looked down at my hands, still faintly red from the hot dishwater. "He's important to the family. He can shift. I can't."

"So what?" Mira's voice rose, indignant. She sat up fully now, cookie forgotten. "You're a healer, Eil. You saved three students during the forest practicum last semester. You're top of our class. Just because you don't have a wolf doesn't mean you're worth less." She paused, her expression softening. "You deserve better. You know that, right? If you had a mate who actually cared about you, they'd never let you feel this way."

I wanted to believe her. I really did.

But all I could think about was that passage in the library. The mark fading because I was broken. Because I couldn't complete what should have been natural and permanent.

"Like Instructor Vane," Mira continued, her eyes sparkling with that mischievous light she got when she was about to say something outrageous. "I bet if *he* had a mate, he'd treat her like a queen. Did you see how considerate he was today? The way he made sure not to embarrass you in front of the whole class with that communicator thing? Whoever ends up with him is going to be the luckiest wolf alive."

I flinched so hard I almost knocked my water cup off the nightstand.

Mira didn't notice. She was on a roll now, gesturing with her half-eaten cookie. "Seriously, can you imagine? That man is *fine*. And he's clearly the type who'd be all protective and attentive. Like, he'd probably make sure his mate never had to worry about anything—"

"Mira." My voice came out strangled. "Can we... can we talk about something else?"

She blinked, finally catching the distress in my tone. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She smiled apologetically. "I just want you to know that you deserve someone who sees how amazing you are, that's all."

I managed a weak smile. "Thanks. I know you mean well."

She squeezed my hand, then yawned widely. "Okay, I'm going to actually sleep now. Unlike some people, I can't function on four hours a night." She gave me a pointed look. "Don't stay up too late, okay? You look exhausted."

"I won't," I lied.

She settled into her bed, pulling the covers up. Within minutes, her breathing had evened out into the soft rhythm of sleep.

I lay back on my own bed, staring at the ceiling. My hand crept up to my neck, pressing against the scarf.

Beneath it, the mark pulsed faintly. Still there. But not for much longer.

*Maybe when it's gone,* I thought, *I can go back to normal. Pretend none of this ever happened.*

But even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie.

Because I didn't *want* to go back. I wanted—

I wanted something I had no right to want.

I closed my eyes, felt the tears slide hot down my temples, soaking into my pillow.

And in the darkness, I let myself imagine—just for a moment—what it would be like if he'd meant what he said. If he really did want to take responsibility. If the bond fading didn't mean the end.

But that was a fantasy.

And I'd learned a long time ago not to believe in those.