Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 35

Eileen

"Oh," I said, my mind racing for an explanation. "Mira gave me some bread from her family this afternoon. I must have... the smell must have stuck to my clothes when I was eating it."

I couldn't meet his eyes as I spoke, my fingers twisting in the fabric of my skirt. Through the bond I felt something from him—not quite disbelief, but a kind of patient waiting, as if he knew I wasn't telling him everything but had chosen not to press.

"I see," he said after a moment, his voice gentle. Then, before I could react, he reached out and his thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, so light I might have imagined it. "You have a crumb. Right here."

Heat flooded my face. I stood frozen, not daring to move, barely daring to breathe as his touch lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then he pulled his hand back, and I watched—unable to look away—as he brought his thumb to his own mouth and licked away the bread crumb that clung there.

The gesture was casual, unconscious even, but it did something to me. My whole body seemed to flush with heat, my heartbeat suddenly loud in my ears. Through the bond I felt a pulse of emotion from him—satisfaction, pleasure, and underneath it something deeper and more primal. *Want*.

Our eyes met, and for a moment the air between us felt charged, electric. I saw his pupils dilate slightly, saw the way his jaw tightened as if he were restraining himself from something.

Then he blinked and stepped back, clearing his throat. "We should get you home," he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual. "You look tired."

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and let him help me into the carriage. As we rode home through the darkening streets, I couldn't stop thinking about his thumb against my lips, about the deliberate way he'd tasted that small piece of bread as if it were something precious.

---

Dinner was quiet. Regis had made roasted vegetables and fish—simple enough for my unsettled stomach, yet somehow full of flavor. I couldn’t help wondering how an Alpha instructor, deadly in combat, could also cook this well; maybe someday I’d find the right moment to watch him at it.

We ate at the small table in the kitchen, the warm lamplight casting soft shadows across his face as he asked careful questions about my classes, my studies, anything but where I'd really been this afternoon.

I answered as best I could, trying to ignore the guilt that twisted in my chest with every half-truth. He was being so patient, so careful not to push, and somehow that made it worse.

After dinner, he insisted I go rest while he cleaned up. I climbed the stairs to my room, my body heavy with exhaustion and my mind spinning with the day's deceptions. I changed into my nightgown and slipped between the sheets, but sleep felt impossibly far away.

I kept touching the corner of my mouth where his thumb had been, remembering the heat in his eyes, the way the bond had hummed between us with unspoken want. My face burned at the memory, and I pressed my hands to my cheeks as if I could cool the flush there.

*He wanted to touch me,* I thought, the realization both thrilling and terrifying. *And I wanted him to.*

Through the bond I could feel him downstairs, still moving about the kitchen, his presence a steady warmth at the edge of my consciousness. There was something restless in his emotions tonight, something that echoed the confusion in my own chest.

I turned onto my side, curling around the small swell of my stomach. "What are we doing?" I whispered to the tiny life growing inside me. "What am I doing?"

But there were no answers, only the distant sounds of Regis finishing his work below and the soft whisper of wind against the windows. Eventually, exhaustion won out over my racing thoughts, and I felt myself beginning to drift.

The last thing I was aware of was the faint scent of cedar and mint that clung to my pillow, and the phantom sensation of his touch still tingling at the corner of my lips.

---

*I was running through a forest, but not the Whispering Woods I knew. This forest was older, wilder, the trees towering so high their canopy blocked out the sky. Moonlight filtered through the leaves in silver streams, illuminating a narrow path through the undergrowth.*

*Something moved ahead of me—a flash of white darting between the trees. My heart leapt with recognition, though I couldn't say why. I picked up my pace, my feet silent on the moss-covered ground, following that pale shape as it wove through the ancient trunks.*

*"Wait!" I called out, but my voice came out as barely a whisper, swallowed by the vastness of the forest.*

*The white creature—I still couldn't tell what it was, only that it wasn't small, but quick—disappeared around a massive oak. I ran faster, my breath coming quick, a strange urgency building in my chest.*

*When I rounded the tree, it was gone. I stood in a small clearing, turning in circles, searching for any sign of movement. The forest had gone utterly still, even the wind holding its breath.*

*"Where are you?" I whispered, and this time my voice carried, echoing strangely in the silence.*

*Then I saw it—a gap in the undergrowth where the white creature must have gone. Dense bushes formed a natural wall, but there, right where I'd last seen that flash of pale fur or feathers or light, the branches had been disturbed.*

*I moved toward it, my hands reaching out to push aside the foliage. The leaves were cool and damp under my fingers, and as I parted them, I saw something beyond. A glow, soft and silver-blue, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.*

*My own heart raced as I leaned forward, pushing deeper into the bushes, desperate to see what lay beyond. The light grew brighter, warmer, and I could almost make out shapes in it—*

*BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.*

I jolted awake, my hand flying out to silence the alarm crystal on my nightstand. My heart was pounding, and for a disorienting moment I couldn't remember where I was. The dream clung to me like cobwebs, that silver-blue light still burning behind my eyelids.

Morning sunlight streamed through my window. The scent of brewing tea drifted up the stairs, along with something that smelled like fresh bread.

I sat up slowly, pressing a hand to my chest where my heart still raced from the dream. What had I been chasing? What had that light been?

The details were already fading, the way dreams do, leaving only impressions: white fur, ancient trees, a glow that had felt both familiar and impossibly distant.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and reached for the simple dress I'd laid out the night before. Whatever the dream meant, it would have to wait. Right now, I had to face Regis over breakfast and pretend that yesterday's touch hadn't changed something fundamental between us.