Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 51

Eileen

The sound reached me even through the thick oak door of Regis's rest room—a low, guttural snarl that vibrated through the stone walls and sent ice down my spine. My heart slammed against my ribs as the bond flared hot and violent, flooding me with Regis's rage, his killing intent so sharp it felt like shattered glass in my chest.

I stumbled to my feet, the blanket falling away as I rushed to the door. My hands shook on the handle. Outside in the corridor, I could hear Thomas Blackwell's voice, high and panicked, and beneath it—Andrew's whimper.

The air itself felt wrong. Heavy. Suffocating. Alpha fury rolled through the hallway in waves, and even from behind the door I could feel it pressing down on me, making my knees weak. This wasn't just anger. This was the promise of violence, of blood, of death.

*Regis.*

I yanked the door open and the full force of it hit me like a physical blow. The scent of ozone and winter storms, Regis's scent twisted dark with wrath. Down the corridor, I saw them—Andrew pressed against the wall, his face white as snow, a dark wet stain spreading across his trousers. Thomas stood frozen nearby, mouth open in wordless terror.

And Regis.

He was half-shifted, his body caught between wolf and man, muscles corded beneath his shirt, claws extended and pressed to Andrew's throat. His eyes burned pure gold, Valdor's eyes, feral and merciless. Blood welled in thin lines where the tips of his claws had already broken skin.

"Say one more word," Regis growled, his voice barely human, "and I will tear out your throat."

Andrew made a choked sound, his eyes rolling back. The smell of his fear was acrid in the air.

I didn't think. I just ran.

"Regis!" My voice came out hoarse, desperate. I pushed past Thomas's trembling form and dropped to my knees in front of Regis, my hands reaching for him even as every instinct screamed that this was dangerous, that I was too close to a predator on the edge of killing.

But he was *my* predator. My mate. My Regis.

I touched his arm gently, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin, the tremor of barely restrained violence. "Regis, look at me. Please."

For a terrible moment, he didn't move. The gold in his eyes stayed bright and wild, fixed on Andrew's throat where his pulse hammered frantically. Through the bond I felt Valdor's hunger, the wolf's certainty that this threat needed to be eliminated, permanently.

"I'm here," I whispered, my fingers sliding up to his face, cupping his jaw. His skin was burning hot, his breath coming in harsh pants. "I'm safe. Our baby is safe. Come back to me."

His eyes flickered, just barely. A flash of ice-blue breaking through the gold.

"Please," I said again, letting all my fear and trust pour through the bond. "For me. Come back."

The change was gradual. His breathing slowed first, then the gold in his eyes began to recede, inch by painful inch, until finally I was looking into familiar ice-blue. His claws retracted slowly, though not before leaving three shallow scratches across Andrew's cheek—a warning carved in blood.

Andrew collapsed the moment Regis released him, hitting the floor in a sobbing heap.

Regis turned to me, his hands still trembling, and pulled me up into his arms. I went willingly, wrapping my arms around his neck as he lifted me against his chest. Through the bond, I felt his anguish, his guilt at nearly losing control, his desperate need to hold me and confirm I was unharmed.

"I'm sorry," he breathed against my hair, his voice rough and shaking. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you—"

"You didn't," I interrupted, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent—still storm-dark but slowly easing back to cedar and mint. "You were protecting me."

He carried me back into his office and kicked the door shut behind us, muffling the sounds of Thomas helping his son to his feet, their hurried, stumbling retreat down the corridor. Inside, the sudden quiet felt like a blessing.

Regis set me carefully on the sofa and knelt before me, his hands cupping my face, his eyes searching mine with desperate intensity. "You shouldn't have run out there. If I had hurt you—"

"You wouldn't have." I covered his hands with mine, holding his gaze. "I knew you wouldn't."

Something broke in his expression. Relief, gratitude, and a deeper emotion I wasn't ready to name flooded through the bond, making my chest tight. His thumb brushed my cheek, and I realized my face was wet with tears I hadn't noticed falling.

He frowned slightly, his voice low but urgent. "You're crying."

I gave a shaky laugh, swiping at my cheeks. "Guess I am. But they're not from fear."

His brows drew together. "Then why?"

"Because…" I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Because no one's ever fought for me like that before. Not like you just did."

For a moment, he just stared at me, as if committing every word to memory. Then his shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw softened.

"I always will." He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. "Always, Eileen. You're not alone anymore."

Through the bond, I felt the absolute certainty of his words, the bedrock truth of them. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I absolutely believed it.

I believed him.

My hands slid from his face to his shoulders, then up to tangle in his hair. His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering through the bond.

"Eileen?"

I didn't answer with words. Instead, I closed the distance between us and kissed him.

He froze, every muscle in his body going rigid with shock. For a heartbeat, I thought I'd made a terrible mistake—but then the bond exploded with emotion so intense it stole my breath. Joy. Longing. Reverence.

And then he was kissing me back, his hands sliding to my waist to pull me closer, his lips moving against mine with a gentleness that made my heart ache. It was nothing like that first night in the woods—this was deliberate, conscious, a choice we were both making.

I poured everything I couldn't say into that kiss. Thank you. I trust you. I choose you.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, he kept his forehead pressed to mine. "Do you know what this means?" he asked hoarsely.

I nodded, my fingers still buried in his hair. "It means I choose you. Not because of the baby. Not because of duty. Because of you, Regis."

His arms tightened around me, and through the bond I felt his wolf settle, content for the first time since the mark had faded. "I will spend my life protecting you," he promised. "Both of you."

"I know," I whispered back. And I did.

For the first time in my life, I had someone who would stand between me and the world. Someone who believed I deserved to have fangs of my own—and would help me grow them.

Outside the window, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Inside, wrapped in my mate's arms, I finally felt safe enough to rest.