Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 36

Regis

I woke before dawn with the memory of her lips beneath my thumb still burning against my skin.

The sheets were tangled around my legs, evidence of a restless night spent fighting the pull of the bond and the insistent growl of Valdor in my mind. *Go to her. Touch her again. Claim what's ours.* My wolf had been relentless since that moment in the carriage when I'd let myself brush the corner of her mouth, when I'd tasted that tiny crumb of bread as if it were something precious.

It had been precious. Because it had been hers.

I could still feel it—the softness of her lip, the warmth of her breath, the way her scent had shifted in that instant, chamomile sweetening with a trace of desire that had nearly undone me. Through the bond I'd felt her response, the flutter of her pulse, the heat that had flooded through her small body.

And I'd wanted more. Goddess help me, I'd wanted so much more.

Valdor snarled in my mind, pushing against my control. *Ours. Go to her. Mark her properly. Make her understand she belongs to us.*

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, forcing myself to breathe slowly, to think rationally through the haze of want. There were reasons—good reasons—why I couldn't simply go to her room right now, why I couldn't give in to the primal urge that had kept me awake half the night.

*She's pregnant.* The thought steadied me even as it made Valdor whine with protective need. Her body was fragile right now, carrying our pup in those crucial early weeks. Any excessive intimacy could put them both at risk. My Alpha instincts screamed at me to protect her, which meant keeping my hands to myself no matter how much it cost me.

And then there was the matter of the mark—or rather, what would happen if I marked her now. Her wolf-less body couldn't sustain a claiming bite. If I gave in to instinct and marked her neck, she'd watch it fade within days, watch physical proof of our bond vanish from her skin. It would only confirm what she already believed: that she wasn't enough, that even a mark couldn't stay on someone like her.

*That would destroy her,* I thought, my jaw clenching. *I won't do that to her.*

There was also the undeniable fact that I was her instructor. The power imbalance was real, dangerous. I refused to use my position or my Alpha presence to pressure her into anything, even if the bond hummed between us with mutual want.

*Wait.* I had to wait until she was ready, until her body was stronger, until the timing was right. Until she truly wanted this—wanted *me*—not just because of the bond or because she felt she had no other choice.

The logic was sound. The restraint required to follow it was excruciating.

I threw off the covers and headed for the bathroom, turning the shower to its coldest setting. The icy water hit my overheated skin like a shock, and I stood under the spray with my head tilted back, letting it wash over my face and chest. My muscles tensed against the cold, every nerve ending screaming in protest, but I stayed there until my teeth chattered, until the desperate edge of need dulled to something I could control.

This was the second cold shower in as many days. Last night I'd stood under freezing water for nearly twenty minutes, trying to banish the scent of her from my senses, the memory of her sleeping just down the hall. The bond had transmitted her dreams—fragmented, restless—and the knowledge that she was so close yet untouchable had been torture.

When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel and staring at my reflection in the fogged mirror, I could still see the faint silver glow at the edges of my irises—Valdor's frustration bleeding through despite my efforts at control. The beast wanted out, wanted to go to her, wanted to make her understand in the most primal way possible that she was ours.

I closed my eyes and counted my breaths until the glow faded, until I looked human again.

*Today,* I told myself firmly, gripping the edge of the sink, *you will keep your distance. No more touching her face. No more lingering looks. Give her space.*

The resolution felt hollow even as I made it.

---

Breakfast was an exercise in self-discipline. I sat across from her at the table rather than beside her, kept careful distance between us, avoided letting our hands touch when I passed her the honey for her tea. My questions were light, impersonal—how had she slept, did the oatmeal suit her stomach, would she need anything for her classes today.

She answered softly, her eyes flicking up to meet mine before darting away, and I could feel through the bond that she sensed something different in my behavior. Confusion mixed with a trace of hurt that made Valdor whine.

*She thinks we're pulling away,* my wolf growled. *She doesn't understand.*

*She doesn't need to,* I told him firmly. *This is for her protection.*

But when I helped her into the carriage for the drive to campus, I couldn't quite maintain the distance I'd promised myself. My hand lingered at her elbow, steadying her as she climbed up. I asked if she was warm enough, if the cushions were comfortable, if she needed anything at all.

Her soft "I'm fine, thank you" made my chest ache.

We rode in careful silence, and I kept my gaze on the road ahead rather than on her profile, on the way the morning light caught in her hair. At the Healing building, I helped her down with the most minimal contact necessary, my hands barely grazing her waist.

"I'll pick you up after your afternoon session," I said, and heard the roughness in my own voice, the way it wanted to crack into something more desperate. "At the main gate."

She nodded, her eyes searching my face for something I couldn't give her. Not yet.

I watched her disappear into the building, felt the bond stretch and thin as distance came between us, and had to physically restrain myself from following.

---

My advanced combat class that afternoon was a disaster.

I demonstrated a defensive counter and nearly fumbled the footwork—me, who'd been executing these techniques flawlessly since I was fifteen. When a student asked about proper weight distribution, I stared at him blankly for three full seconds before my brain registered the question.

The students noticed. I could see the confused glances they exchanged, hear their whispered speculation. Regis Vane, the youngest senior combat instructor in Academy history, was distracted. Unfocused. *Off*.

Because all I could think about was her.

The way she'd looked at me across the breakfast table, shy and uncertain. The phantom sensation of her lips under my thumb. The faint hurt I'd felt through the bond when I'd kept my distance. The knowledge that in just a few hours I'd see her again, smell her chamomile-and-apple scent, feel the bond settle into contentment just from being near her.

Time moved like honey in winter. I checked the sun's position four times, calculated and recalculated how long until her afternoon session would end. My students must have thought I'd lost my mind.

Finally, mercifully, the class ended. I dismissed them early and headed straight for the main gate, unable to wait in my office a moment longer.

The carriage was already there, the driver nodding respectfully as I approached. I took up position beside it, scanning every figure that emerged from the various buildings, searching for that particular small, slender silhouette.

Minutes crawled past. I forced myself not to pace, not to let my agitation show. Through the bond I could feel her—steady, calm, safe. But still. *Where is she?*

The sun was sinking lower, casting long shadows across the grounds. Students streamed past in chattering groups, but none of them were her.

My jaw clenched. My fingers drummed against my thigh. Valdor prowled restlessly in my mind, wanting to go find her, to make sure she was truly safe.

*Patience,* I told myself. *She'll be here.*

But the waiting was agony.