Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 61

Eileen

I woke to an empty bed, sunlight streaming through the curtains in soft golden bands. For a moment, panic fluttered in my chest—where was Regis?—before the bond hummed with his calm presence somewhere downstairs, and I remembered: today was the day I'd meet his parents.

The anxiety that thought triggered sent me bolt upright.

I stood before the mirror, staring at my meager options with mounting dread. The first dress—too schoolgirl. The second—too formal, like I was attending a funeral. Finally, I settled on the cream-colored dress Mira had commended: fitted at the waist, flowing to mid-calf, with a white cardigan. It made me look... almost put-together.

My hair was another battle. Up looked too formal. Down too casual. I compromised on a low ponytail with the jasmine hair clip, checking the back one final time when my fingers caught on something—a bright pink hair roller I'd completely forgotten about, tangled underneath. *Oh gods.* I yanked at it frantically, wincing as it pulled, and had just managed to extract the offending thing when the door opened.

Regis stood in the doorway, fully dressed in dark trousers and a pressed shirt, looking every inch the Alpha heir. His eyes swept over me—the slightly destroyed ponytail, the roller clutched in my fist, my mortified expression—and something warm and amused flickered across his face.

"You look beautiful," he said simply, crossing to me in three strides. His hands found my waist, steadying. "You don't need to try so hard, Eileen. They're going to love the real you."

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to so badly that it hurt.

We were almost ready to leave when my communicator buzzed. I frowned at the screen, then nearly dropped it when I read the message.

[Eileen, this is Kristina. Regis's mother. I hope I'm not overstepping by contacting you directly, but I wanted you to know: we're all very much looking forward to meeting you today. Please don't be nervous, dear. You're not walking into a tribunal—you're coming home.]

I stared at the words until they blurred. The Luna herself had messaged me. Personally. To reassure me.

"Regis?" My voice came out embarrassingly wobbly. "Your mother just... she sent me a message."

He looked up from fastening his cloak, expression softening immediately. "Did she? What did she say?"

I showed him the screen, watching his face as he read. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, fond and exasperated. "That sounds like her. She's been pestering me all morning about whether I'd told you the right things, whether I'd made it clear you weren't being summoned for judgment."

"But how did she..." I trailed off, then felt stupid. "You gave her my number."

"Of course I did." He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so casually intimate it made my heart skip. "You're my mate, Eileen. My family is your family now. She wanted a way to reach you that didn't go through me."

The thoughtfulness of it—the consideration—nearly undid me. I typed out a careful response, thanking her, and her reply came almost instantly: [No need for formality, sweetheart. Just be yourself. That's all any of us want.]

I was still staring at the device in wonder when Regis guided me toward the door, his hand warm and solid at the small of my back.

---

The carriage ride felt both endless and far too short. I spent most of it clutching the fabric of my dress, smoothing imaginary wrinkles, until Regis finally took my hand in both of his and held it still.

"They were worried, you know," he said quietly, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. "Before I found you."

I glanced up at him, confused.

"Alphas without mates..." He hesitated, choosing his words. "We don't do well long-term. The longer we go unmated, the more unstable we become. Paranoid. Aggressive. My parents spent years wondering if I'd end up like some of the older bachelor wolves in the border territories—half-feral, good for nothing but fighting."

"That's ridiculous," I said before I could stop myself. "You're the most controlled person I know."

His smile was crooked, self-deprecating. "Now, maybe. Because of you." He shifted closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Meeting my parents isn't about them judging whether you're *good enough*, Eileen. If anything, they're terrified they'll say something wrong and scare you off. In their eyes, you're the most important person in the territory."

The words should have been reassuring. Instead, they made the weight on my chest heavier. "I'm not... I don't know how to be that."

"You already are." His hand drifted to my stomach, where the small swell was just beginning to show through the dress. "This little one has already made my parents so happy they can barely sleep. And you—" His ice-blue eyes held mine with an intensity that stole my breath. "You're already everything I need."

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and the steady pulse of the bond calm my racing heart. Outside the carriage window, the forest was beginning to thin, and I knew we were close.

---

The Vane estate wasn't what I'd expected.

I'd braced myself for something cold and imposing—a fortress of stone and status that would make it clear exactly how far beneath them I was. Instead, the carriage emerged from a tree-lined lane into a clearing where a sprawling manor sat bathed in afternoon light, surrounded by gardens that seemed to glow with moonflowers even in daylight.

The architecture was elegant but warm: honey-colored stone, arched windows, climbing vines that softened the edges. Smoke curled from one of the chimneys. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the faint sound of a fountain.

It looked like a *palace*.

"Eileen?" Regis's voice was gentle. "We can turn around if you need more time."

I realized I'd frozen, one hand gripping the carriage door frame. "No," I managed. "No, I... I want to do this."

He helped me down, his hand lingering at my waist as we approached the main entrance. The massive oak doors were already open, and standing just beyond the threshold were two figures I recognized instantly from Regis's description: Alfred Vane, tall and broad-shouldered with silver threading through his dark hair, and beside him, Kristina—graceful, poised, with the same ice-blue eyes as her son.

They weren't sitting in some formal receiving room, waiting to be announced to. They were *here*, at the door, as though we were family returning home after a long journey.

Kristina stepped forward first, her expression radiant. "Eileen," she said warmly, and before I could stammer out a greeting, she'd pulled me into a gentle embrace. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for trusting us."

I stood frozen in her arms, utterly bewildered. No one in my life had ever greeted me like this—like I *mattered*, like my presence was a gift rather than an obligation.

When she pulled back, Alfred stepped forward, his expression kind but serious. "Eileen. I owe you an apology." At my confused look, he continued, "Thomas Blackwell's abuse of power happened under my watch. You should never have been put in that position—threatened, pressured to sign a false statement. That failure is mine, and I'm sorry."

"No—" I shook my head frantically. "You don't need to—it wasn't your fault."

"Hush, Alfred," Kristina said, though her tone was fond. "You'll have plenty of time to bore her with council politics later. Right now, I want to show her around her new home." She linked her arm through mine as naturally as breathing. "Come, dear. Let's get you settled."

And just like that, I was swept inside.