Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 32

Regis

Six a.m. I woke to the pre-dawn silence of my own room, my first conscious thought reaching through the bond to sense Eileen's state in the room next door. Her breathing came slow and even, deep with genuine rest, and relief washed through me so intensely that Valdor stirred with a pleased rumble. She was actually in a deep sleep.

I lay still, staring at the ceiling as my wolf pushed at my restraint with a low whine. *Go to her. Check on our mate. Make sure she's comfortable.*

"She needs rest," I murmured aloud, as if speaking would make the directive more binding. "We promised to give her space."

*Just to look. Just to be sure.*

The internal argument lasted a full ten minutes, Valdor's insistence wearing against my resolve like water on stone. Finally I forced myself out of bed, channeling the restless energy into something productive. If I couldn't be near her, I could at least ensure everything was ready when she woke.

The kitchen was cool and quiet, morning light just beginning to filter through the eastern windows. I tied on an apron and set to work. Oatmeal with honey, the grains simmering slowly to achieve the perfect soft texture. Whole wheat bread toasted to golden brown. Chicken strips stewed until they fell apart at the touch of a fork. Fresh berries arranged in a small bowl. And the herbal tea, a digestive blend I'd researched specifically for early pregnancy, steeped to precisely the right strength.

My hands moved with the same precision I applied to combat drills, but my attention kept drifting to the stairs. I glanced up every few minutes, listening for the sound of her door opening, the soft pad of her feet on the steps. Each time I caught myself, I forced my focus back to the task at hand, but Valdor's anticipation hummed beneath my skin like a low current.

Seven o'clock came and went. Then eight. I checked the bond again—still sleeping, her presence warm and peaceful. Good. She needed this. When had she last slept past dawn without anxiety jolting her awake?

But by eight-fifteen, I was watching the clock with growing concern of a different sort. I had a first-period combat training session at eight-thirty. I'd planned to drive her to class myself, to see her safely to the healing building before heading to the training grounds. Now she was still asleep, and I faced an impossible choice.

Wake her? Force her out of the first real rest she'd had in weeks?

Or let her sleep and abandon my own responsibilities?

I reached out through the pack bond, focusing on the familiar thread that led to Kieran. His response came almost immediately, his mental voice thick with amusement. "This had better be important, Regis. It's barely past eight."

"I need you to cover my first training session."

A pause. Then laughter rippled through the connection, warm and knowing. "Oh? Couldn't resist, could you? New mate period does tend to override even your legendary self-control—"

"It's not what you're thinking." I cut him off, jaw tight even though he couldn't see my expression. "She's sleeping. Really sleeping, for the first time since—" I stopped, unwilling to detail her weeks of anxiety even to my closest friend. "I don't want to wake her."

The teasing note in Kieran's presence softened. "Ah. I see." Another pause. "Alright, I'll handle your little wolf pups for the morning. But you owe me."

"I know. Thank you."

The link dimmed as he withdrew, leaving only the faint echo of his presence. I stayed where I was, breakfast long prepared but cooling on the table.

Nine forty-five. Less than an hour before her healing theory class.

I couldn't wait any longer.

I climbed the stairs, each step measured and deliberate, and stopped outside her door. My hand hovered over the wood for a long moment while I wrestled down Valdor's insistent demand to simply open the door, to see her, to confirm with my own eyes that she was well. Instead I knocked, three soft raps, and waited.

No response.

Another knock, slightly firmer. Still nothing.

The door wasn't locked, had felt the small surge of warmth that she trusted me enough not to bolt it shut. Slowly, giving her every chance to object, I pushed it open.

Sunlight streamed through the window, catching in her hair where it spread across the pillow in a wild tangle. She'd clearly been restless at some point in the night, her dark locks escaping whatever tie she'd used and now forming a chaotic halo around her face. The blankets were twisted around her curled form, and one hand rested on her stomach in a gesture so unconsciously protective that something in my chest pulled tight.

Beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful like this—unguarded, peaceful, her face soft with sleep.

I moved to the bedside before I could think better of it, kneeling down so I was at her eye level. My hand reached out of its own accord, fingers brushing gently over the crown of her head, smoothing down the sleep-mussed strands. They were incredibly soft, warmer than I'd expected, and the simple touch sent a wave of contentment through both me and Valdor.

"Eileen," I murmured, keeping my voice low and gentle. "Time to wake up."

She stirred, a small sound of confusion escaping her throat. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and hazy, and for a heartbeat she simply stared at me in sleepy bewilderment. Then awareness crashed in—her eyes went wide, color flooding her cheeks in a rush that I could actually see spreading down her neck.

"I—I overslept?!" Her voice cracked with panic as she tried to sit up, one hand flying to her hair in a futile attempt to tame it. "What time is it?!"

The fear in her tone cut through me. This wasn't simple embarrassment about sleeping late—this was genuine terror, the kind that came from being punished for the smallest mistakes.

"Easy." I caught her hand before she could bolt upright, my fingers closing gently around her wrist. "It's nine forty-seven. You have a ten-thirty class. There's time."

"But I still need to wash up, and change, and eat breakfast, and—" Her breathing was coming too fast now, words tumbling over each other. "I've never overslept like this, I'm always up by seven thirty, I—"

"Eileen. Look at me."

She did, her eyes bright with unshed tears that made my wolf snarl in distress.

"Trust me," I said, pitching my voice to the calm, authoritative tone that worked on panicking soldiers. "You're going to go wash up and get dressed. Ten minutes. When you come downstairs, breakfast will be ready and the carriage will be waiting. It's a twenty-minute drive to the healing building at most. You will be on time. I promise."

I watched her throat work as she swallowed, saw the exact moment she wrestled her panic back under control. Her eyes searched mine, looking for—what? Disappointment? Irritation? She wouldn't find either.

"You... promise?" The words came out small, uncertain.

I turned her hand over in mine, running my thumb across her knuckles in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture. It was the most contact I'd allowed myself since the marking, and the touch sent electricity singing through the bond. "I promise. You're safe here, Eileen. You're not going to be late. You're not in trouble. Just breathe."

Something in her expression shifted—fear giving way to fragile trust. "...Okay. I believe you."

Those three words hit me harder than any combat blow. *I believe you.* For someone who'd clearly learned not to rely on anyone, who carried the weight of the world on her own shoulders, choosing to trust me with even this small thing felt monumental.

"Good." I released her hand slowly, fighting the urge to pull her close instead. "Ten minutes. I'll be downstairs."

I made myself stand, made myself walk to the door, made myself leave her privacy intact even though every instinct screamed to stay, to help, to simply be near her. At the threshold I paused. "And Eileen? You slept well. That's more important than anything else."