Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 29

Regis

"Morning sickness, fatigue," Eileen said quietly, her voice steadier now. "The healer I consulted said those were normal, but that I'd need to be careful about nutrition and rest."

"That's why living in a crowded dormitory with inadequate ventilation and competing scents was not suitable, especially now," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "

Kieran’s gaze shifted to me, one brow lifting in subtle acknowledgment before he looked back at Eileen. "You do need better housing," he said, voice firm but warm. "I’m on board. Whatever you need—schedule adjustments, message relays—just say the word."

Eileen opened her mouth, then hesitated. A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she looked down, fingers tightening on her skirt. "That… means a lot," she said softly.

Kieran rose smoothly, setting down his cup. "I should let you two discuss the practical arrangements without me hovering." He offered Eileen a warm smile. "But truly—welcome. You've got people looking out for you now. You're not in this alone."

The words seemed to land with unexpected weight. Eileen's eyes glistened briefly before she blinked and nodded. "Thank you, Instructor Blackwood."

"Just Kieran, please." He moved toward the door, pausing to catch my eye with a look that conveyed approval and support. Then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him.

The office felt suddenly more intimate with just the two of us remaining. Eileen sat very still, staring into her tea, and I could sense the weight of everything settling over her again now that the distraction of Kieran's presence had lifted.

I moved around the desk but stopped several feet away, giving her space. I kept my voice low. "I know this is moving quickly. But I meant what I said in my message. The dormitory isn't suitable for you right now."

She looked up, meeting my eyes briefly before her gaze skittered away. "I know. Mira said the same thing. It's just..."

"A lot of change," I finished for her. "I understand. But I have a house prepared—it's quiet, private, well-protected. You'd have your own room, space for studying, a proper kitchen. Everything you need to rest and focus on your health."

"My own room?" she repeated softly, as if surprised by that detail.

"Of course. We'll build the bond slowly, at your pace. I'm not expecting—" I stopped, choosing my words carefully. "This isn't about rushing into anything beyond what you're comfortable with. It's about making sure you and the baby are safe and cared for."

She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "When were you thinking I should move?"

"Tonight, ideally." I kept my voice gentle but firm. "I know that's very soon, but every day you spend in that dormitory is another day of stress and inadequate rest. The sooner you're somewhere stable, the better."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Tonight? That's..."

"I know it's fast. But the room is ready, the house is prepared. You wouldn't have to do anything except bring your belongings." I paused, reading the anxiety in her expression. "What concerns you most about it?"

"I don't..." She set down her cup, hands returning to twist together. "I don't have very much to bring. Just some clothes, my books, herbs and personal items. Maybe a backpack and one small trunk. It won't take long to pack, it's just—"

The words hit me like a physical blow. A backpack and a trunk. Everything she owned, everything that mattered to her in the world, could fit in so little space. I thought of my own well-appointed rooms, the comfortable furniture that had always just been there, the shelves I'd never bothered to fill.

Before I could think better of it, I crossed the remaining distance and knelt beside her chair, bringing us to eye level. She startled slightly, her breath catching, but I moved slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.

I lifted my hand, pausing mid-air. "May I?"

She nodded, barely perceptible, and I gently rested my palm on her head. Her hair was soft beneath my touch, and I felt her whole body still at the contact.

"You won't have to live like that anymore," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "No more scraping by with almost nothing. No more being treated as if you're not worth investing in. I meant what I said on the platform—I'm going to take care of you. Both of you."

Through the bond, I felt the shock of my words, the way they pierced through layers of defensive armor she'd built up over years of neglect. Her eyes lifted to meet mine, bright with unshed tears, and in them I saw disbelief warring with desperate hope.

My wolf settled with quiet satisfaction, content with this gentle contact, this moment of offering comfort without demanding more. *Good. She needs to know she's safe. That we'll protect her.*

"I don't know if I deserve—" she started, her voice breaking.

"You do," I said firmly, cutting off that line of self-doubt before it could take root. "Don't question that. You deserve safety, comfort, someone who values you. And I'm going to make sure you have all of that."

Something shifted in her expression—a crack in the walls, a tentative lowering of defenses. Slowly, so slowly I almost missed it, she leaned just slightly into my touch. It was barely perceptible, but I felt it through the bond—the moment she stopped resisting and allowed herself to accept comfort.

The connection between us hummed stronger, warming, solidifying into something more than biological imperative or responsibility. This was choice. This was trust beginning to form.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll come tonight."

Relief flooded through me, profound and certain. "Thank you. For trusting me with this."

I let my hand fall reluctantly from her hair, already missing the contact but knowing I couldn't push too far. "Can you be ready in about half an hour? I'll arrange for a carriage to meet you at the main gates. Just bring what you can carry comfortably—we'll get anything else you need later."

She nodded, still looking slightly dazed, as if she couldn't quite believe this was happening.

"Go pack your things," I said gently, rising to my feet. "Take your time saying goodbye to Mira if you need to. I'll handle all the arrangements." I paused, waiting until she met my eyes again. "And Eileen? You're not alone in this anymore. Remember that."

She stood slowly, cradling her teacup for another moment before setting it down. At the door, she hesitated, glancing back at me with that same fragile hope in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For... for all of this."

"You don't need to thank me," I replied. "This is what mates do. We take care of each other."

After she left, I stood in the empty office, hand still tingling from where I'd touched her hair, and reached out through the mind-link to my family's head steward. The practical arrangements—carriage, heated blankets for the journey, ensuring her room was warm and welcoming—took only minutes to coordinate.

But my thoughts kept circling back to that moment when she'd leaned into my touch, when she'd accepted my protection not from desperation but because she was beginning to believe she deserved it.

*Finally,* my wolf murmured with deep contentment. *Bringing our mate home. Where she belongs.*

Yes. Tonight she would sleep under my roof, safe and protected. Tomorrow we would begin building something new together—not perfect, not traditional, but real.

And I would make absolutely certain she never regretted giving me this chance.