Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 56

Eileen

He produced a small jar of ointment and a soft silk scarf, his expression serious. "This is from Healer Mirabel. It'll mask the scent of an Alpha's mark—no one will be able to smell it unless they're very close. And the scarf will hide it from sight." He paused. "I know you're not ready for everyone to know yet. So until you are, I'll help you keep it private."

My throat closed up at the thoughtfulness of it, at how he was protecting my autonomy even now. "You don't mind? That people won't know you're taken?"

"What I mind," he said carefully, "is you feeling pressured or unsafe. If you want to announce it to the whole Academy tomorrow, I'm ready. If you need more time, I'll wait. My wolf doesn't need everyone else to see the mark to know you're mine—he just needs you to be here, choosing me every day."

The tears came again, but this time they were different—relief and gratitude and something too big to name. I threw my arms around his neck, holding on tight. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for never pushing me."

"Always," he murmured into my hair. "I'll always wait for you to be ready."

He insisted on applying the ointment himself, his touch gentle as he worked the salve into my skin. The mark tingled under his fingers, the bond sparking with each careful stroke, and I had to bite my lip to keep from making embarrassing sounds at the sensation.

"Ticklish?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Something like that," I managed, my face burning.

I caught the flash of heat in his eyes, quickly banked, and knew he was affected too—that touching me like this, even for such a practical purpose, stirred the same want in him that it did in me. But he kept his touch clinical, professional, until the ointment was fully absorbed and the scent of the mark had faded to almost nothing.

Then he picked up the scarf, a beautiful deep blue that would complement my skin, and carefully arranged it around my neck. His fingers brushed my jaw as he adjusted the fabric, and I couldn't help leaning into the touch.

"Perfect," he said softly. "No one will see unless you want them to."

I caught his hand before he could pull away, suddenly needing him to understand. "It's not that I'm ashamed," I said urgently. "Of you, or us, or this. I just—"

"I know." He pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

I kissed him then, pouring everything I felt into it—my gratitude, my trust, my growing certainty that I'd made the right choice. He responded with careful tenderness, his hands settling on my waist but going no further, giving me control of the kiss.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing harder, he rested his forehead against mine. "We should get you fed," he said roughly. "And I need to not think about taking you back to bed, or we'll never make it to the Academy."

My face flamed, but I couldn't help smiling. "Practical as always, Professor Vane."

"Someone has to be," he muttered, but his eyes were warm with affection.

---

Breakfast was a quiet, comfortable affair. Regis had prepared eggs and toast, along with a mug of herbal tea that smelled faintly of chamomile and mint. I sipped it gratefully, feeling the warmth settle in my stomach and ease the lingering soreness from last night.

When we reached a quiet walkway near the Academy, Regis paused, resting his hands on my shoulders before pressing a quick kiss to my temple. My heart jumped, heat rising to my cheeks. It felt almost illicit, and I found myself torn between leaning into him and glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

Mira was waiting at the classroom entrance when I arrived, her face lighting up the moment she spotted me. "There you are!" She grabbed my arm, pulling me aside. "I was starting to think you'd decided to skip. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mira." I squeezed her hand, genuinely touched by her concern. "I'm sorry I worried you. Things just... got complicated."

Her eyes narrowed, taking in my carefully neutral expression, the scarf I was wearing despite the mild weather. "Complicated how? Does this have to do with that Blackwell situation everyone's gossiping about? Because I heard Thomas got pulled from the Council and people are saying—"

"Mira." I glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "Can we talk about this later? Somewhere private?"

She studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But you're telling me everything at lunch, understand? No more secrets."

"No more secrets," I agreed, though even as I said it I knew I couldn't tell her everything. Not about the mark hidden under my scarf, not about how I'd spent the last afternoon and night with Regis in my bed, not about how thoroughly claimed I was by the man she only knew as our intimidating combat instructor.

But I could tell her enough. I owed her that much, after everything she'd done for me.

"Speaking of which," Mira said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you're wearing scarves again. Which means..." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Things with Coach Vane are definitely progressing, aren't they?"

My face immediately went hot. "Mira!"

"I knew it!" She bounced on her toes, looking far too pleased with herself. "Oh my God, Eileen, you have to tell me everything. Is he as intense in private as he is in class? Does he do that thing where he—"

"We are not having this conversation in the hallway," I hissed, mortified.

She laughed but took pity on me, linking her arm through mine as we headed into the classroom. "Fine, fine. But later, you're giving me details. Real details, not your usual 'he's very nice' non-answers."

I didn't respond, too busy trying to get my burning face under control. But as we took our seats, I caught myself smiling despite the embarrassment. This was normal—Mira teasing me about boys, me getting flustered, both of us laughing together. After everything that had happened, I'd missed this.

The morning classes passed in a blur. I tried to focus on the lessons, taking notes and answering questions when called upon, but my mind kept drifting back to this morning—to Regis's hands on my skin, to the way he'd looked at me like I was precious, to the mark hidden beneath my scarf that branded me as his.

Mine. I was someone's mate now. Someone's chosen one.

The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it filled me with a warmth I couldn't quite name.