Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 43

Eileen

I lay in the darkness, heart hammering against my ribs as I replayed his words in an endless loop: *If I stay another minute, I won't be able to let you rest.*

The blankets felt too warm, the room too quiet. I pressed my palm against my flushed cheek, trying to steady my breathing. Through the bond, I could sense him downstairs—a low hum of tension, of restraint pulled taut like a bowstring. He was struggling too. The knowledge sent heat curling through my chest, equal parts thrill and terror.

I'd told him I was glad to be his mate. The truth of it still stunned me. And the way his eyes had darkened, the rough edge in his voice—he'd wanted to stay. Wanted more than just sitting beside me, checking my temperature, adjusting my blankets.

But safety wasn't the issue. It was the wanting itself that frightened me—the way my body responded to his nearness, the way I craved his touch even when I knew I wasn't ready for everything it might lead to. Thaddeus's warning echoed: *Within a month, this becomes critical.*

I curled onto my side, hugging my knees. The bond thrummed steadily, carrying Regis's emotions like a distant heartbeat. Concern. Longing. Iron-willed control.

Eventually, exhaustion won. I drifted into uneasy sleep, my last conscious thought a whispered promise to myself: *He's different. He won't hurt me. I just need time to believe it.*

---

The weekend passed in a haze of gentle care. Regis brought meals on a tray—broth with soft vegetables, herbal tea that tasted of mint and honey, bread so fresh it steamed when I tore it apart. He'd sit in the armchair by the window while I ate, pretending to read border patrol reports but glancing up every few minutes to check on me.

"You don't have to watch me eat," I said once, shy under his attention.

"I'm not watching." He turned a page without looking at it. "I'm ensuring you're comfortable."

I bit back a smile. "That's the same thing."

His mouth quirked. "Perhaps."

When I felt strong enough, he'd help me to the garden. The autumn sun felt like a blessing after days of fever, and I'd lean against him as we walked the stone path between the herb beds. Once, he plucked a small white flower—moonbell, its petals glowing faintly even in daylight—and tucked it behind my ear. His fingers brushed my temple, and I shivered.

"Cold?" he asked immediately.

"No." I couldn't meet his eyes. "Just... your touch."

His hand stilled. Through the bond, I felt a surge of heat, quickly banked. "Tell me if I make you uncomfortable."

"You don't." The words came out barely audible. "It's the opposite."

He said nothing, but his thumb traced a slow line down my jaw before he stepped back, giving me space. The loss of contact felt like a physical ache.

---

Monday afternoon, I stood outside the kitchen building, gathering my nerve. The familiar smells of baking bread and simmering stew drifted through the open windows, and my chest tightened with unexpected nostalgia. This place had been my refuge, my proof that I could stand on my own. Now I was walking away.

*For the baby,* I reminded myself. *For my health.*

Inside, Greta was chopping vegetables for the evening meal. She looked up when I entered, her weathered face breaking into a warm smile. "Eileen! Good to see you, dear. How's Monday going?"

"Good, thank you." I twisted my hands together. "Actually, I came to... I need to tell you something."

Her expression shifted to concern. She set down her knife. "What is it?"

"I can't continue working here." The words rushed out. "I'm sorry for the short notice. It's not that I don't appreciate everything you've done—I do, so much—but I've been having some health issues, and I need to focus on my studies and recovery."

Greta rounded the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh, sweetheart. Your health comes first, always. Don't you dare apologize."

Relief flooded through me. "You're not upset?"

"Upset?" She pulled me into a brief, firm hug. "I'm grateful you told me instead of running yourself into the ground. You've been one of my best workers, Eileen. Reliable, hardworking, never complaining even when others did." She released me, reaching into her pocket. "Here. This is your pay through today, plus a little extra for all the times you stayed late."

I stared at the coins she pressed into my palm. "That's too much—"

"It's what you earned." Her tone left no room for argument. "And about that incident with Sophia—" Her face hardened. "Don't waste another thought on her. People like that aren't worth your energy."

My throat tightened. "Thank you. For everything."

"You take care of yourself, you hear? And if you ever need a reference or just want to visit, my door's always open."

I gathered my small apron and water cup from the staff closet, taking one last look at the warm, bustling kitchen. It had been more than a job—it had been proof I could survive on my own. But now I had something else to survive for.

---

Mira was waiting outside, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. When she saw me, she straightened with a grin.

"Come on, I'll walk you to the gate."

"The gate and the dining hall are in opposite directions," I pointed out. "You'll miss dinner."

She waved dismissively. "Regis specifically asked me to make sure you got home safely. Do you really think I'm going to disobey an Alpha's direct request? I value my life, thank you very much."

Warmth bloomed in my chest. "He asked you?"

"Through the pack link yesterday." She linked her arm through mine, steering me toward the main path. "Very polite about it too. 'Would you mind ensuring Eileen reaches the gate safely? I'd be grateful.' Like he was asking a favor instead of giving an order." She squeezed my arm. "That man is *gone* for you."

My face heated. "He's just... responsible."

"Responsible." Mira snorted. "Is that what we're calling it? Let me tell you, when we were in advanced defense class this morning, the way he looked at you when you walked in late—" She fanned herself dramatically. "I thought he was going to abandon the lesson and carry you out of there."

"Mira!"

"I’m not joking!" Mira leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing state secrets. "When he handed you that defense kit, his fingers didn’t just touch yours—they lingered. And those eyes, Eileen… they weren’t just glowing, they were locked on you like you were the only person in the room. If you two don’t tone it down, the whole class is going to figure it out before the week’s over."

I ducked my head, remembering the moment. The brief brush of his hand against mine, the way his gaze had softened just for an instant before he'd turned back to the lesson with perfect composure. "He was just being thorough."

"Thorough. Right." She laughed. "When other students asked questions, he basically told them to figure it out themselves. But you? 'Here, let me show you how to use it.' Honestly, how you didn't melt into a puddle right there, I'll never know."