Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 63

Eileen

Morning light filtered through the curtains of Regis's bedroom, turning the air golden and soft. I woke slowly, cocooned in warmth and his lingering scent and for a few precious moments, I let myself simply *be*. Safe. Wanted. Held.

Then memory caught up: the shawl Kristina had draped around my shoulders, the weight of generations in its silver-threaded fabric. The tears I'd cried into her embrace. Alfred's genuine apology. The way they'd looked at me across the dinner table—not with pity or judgment, but with *welcome*.

I slipped from the bed carefully, not wanting to wake Regis, and padded to the mirror. My fingers found the mark on my neck almost automatically, tracing the twin crescents of his bite. They were fainter than they'd been two days ago—the edges slightly blurred, the color less vivid. The ache of loss settled deeper in my chest.

But beneath it stirred something warmer. His family had opened their arms to me without hesitation, without judgment. They'd looked at me, and seen not an outsider, but someone worth protecting. Worth loving.

I wanted to return that gift. Not out of obligation, but because something in me had shifted. The walls I'd built around my heart were crumbling, and in their place, a tender shoot of belonging was taking root. I wanted to embrace them the way they'd embraced me. To let this awakening love guide me toward them, not away.

I touched my stomach, barely swollen yet unmistakable now that I knew what I carried. "They really do want us," I whispered to the life growing inside me. "Both of us."

My reflection stared back at me, eyes bright with unshed tears.

*There has to be something. Some way I can give back.*

---

Breakfast was a warm, easy affair—Kristina had prepared oatmeal with honey and berries, along with a savory broth that settled my still-queasy stomach. Alfred asked gentle questions about my studies, and Regis's hand found mine under the table whenever I stumbled over an answer, his thumb stroking reassurance across my knuckles.

It was Alfred who made the suggestion, setting down his fork with a thoughtful expression. "Regis, why don't you take Eileen around the estate today? Show her where you grew up. Let her see the parts of you that shaped who you've become."

Kristina's face lit up. "Oh, perfect. Take her to that forest you loved as a boy—the one you'd disappear into every chance you got."

Regis turned to me, something vulnerable and hopeful in his ice-blue eyes. "Would you like that?"

I nodded, surprised by how much I *did* want it. "I'd love to see it."

"Don't go too far," Alfred cautioned, his gaze dropping briefly to my stomach. "She's carrying precious cargo."

"I know." Regis's voice turned solemn, almost reverent. "I'll take care of her."

---

After breakfast, while Regis went to gather supplies, I found myself drawn to the sun-drenched conservatory where Kristina was organizing dried herbs. My heart hammered as I knocked softly on the doorframe.

She looked up with that warm, knowing smile. "Come in, sweetheart. Regis preparing for your outing?"

"Yes." I stepped inside, wringing my hands. "Kristina, I... I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course." She set aside her work and gestured to the cushioned bench beside her. "What's troubling you?"

The words tangled in my throat. How could I explain this hollow feeling, this desperate need to *give* instead of only *receive*? "I know the mark on my neck is fading," I finally managed, voice barely above a whisper. "Regis says it doesn't matter, but I can *feel* how much it means to him. And I—" My voice cracked. "He's given me so much. But I can't give him anything back. I can't even leave my mark on him."

The confession poured out: "I want to do something for him. I don't want to just be taken care of and protected. I want to *matter* too."

Kristina's expression softened with understanding. She rose and walked to an ancient wooden cabinet in the corner. When she returned, she held an ornate sandalwood box carved with moon phases and running wolves. Inside, nestled in silk, lay a milky-white stone shaped like a teardrop. Silver light seemed to flow beneath its surface.

"This is a moonstone," Kristina said softly. "From the ruins of the ancient Moon Goddess temple. My grandmother passed it to me, and her mother to her."

She placed the box in my trembling hands. "This stone can hold your scent, your essence. If Regis carries it, he'll be able to feel your presence even when you're apart—it will soothe him during separations, ease the pain of the bond's distance. Just as you carry his mark, he can carry your imprint."

Tears spilled down my cheeks. "I... I can really do this?"

"On the next full moon, you can perform the ritual—pour your intention into the stone. Then Regis can carry part of you with him always." She cupped my face, wiping away the tears. "You have more to give than you realize, dear one."

---

The forest behind the estate was ancient and alive, sunlight filtering through thick canopy in dappled gold. Regis walked beside me, pointing out landmarks from his childhood—a lightning-scarred oak, a creek where he'd caught his first fish.

And all the while, the moonstone rested in its box inside my satchel, a precious secret that made my heart feel lighter than it had in days.

When we reached an open clearing, Regis stopped. "Want to see me run?"

"In wolf form?"

He nodded. "I could carry you."

Through the bond, I felt Valdor's eager warmth. "Yes," I whispered. "Please."

The shift was mesmerizing—silver-black fur rippling into existence until the massive wolf stood before me, magnificent and strong. Valdor lowered his great head and nuzzled my hand, and I buried my fingers in his thick fur.

"You're beautiful," I breathed.

He crouched, inviting me onto his back. I climbed on carefully, and he rose slowly before starting forward at an easy lope. Wind rushed past, and I couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up from my chest.

"Faster!" I called, and Valdor's joyful howl echoed through the trees.

We stopped by a stream in a secluded hollow ringed by ancient willows. I slid off his back, and he steadied me with his body before the shift began again. Silver-black fur receded, bones reshaped, until Regis stood before me. Naked. Sunlight played across every muscular plane, and my breath caught.

"Don't look away," he said softly, walking toward me.

My face burned, but I couldn't. My eyes traced from his collarbone down his chest, following the trail of dark hair that led lower—

He reached me and slid his hands into my hair. "I want to hold you. Like this."

His bare chest pressed against my clothed body, heat seeping through fabric. I felt every breath he took, the hammer of his heartbeat. My hands found his waist, fingertips exploring warm skin.

The kiss started gentle but I responded with an urgency I'd never allowed before. My mouth opened under his, and when his tongue swept against mine I made a sound—needy and desperate and *wanting*.

His hands tightened, angling my head for better access. The kiss turned hungry, consuming, and I could feel his hardness pressing against my stomach. Instead of pulling back, I pushed closer.

"Eileen," he groaned against my mouth, one hand sliding to grip my hip. "If you keep doing that—"

"I don't want to stop." My hands traveled up his back, then higher to tangle in his hair. "I want you. Here. Now."