Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 65

Eileen

The carriage swayed gently as we left the Vane estate behind, afternoon sunlight spilling through the curtains in soft golden bands. I sat beside Regis, my hand resting over the small swell of my abdomen.  

Regis's thumb traced slow, lazy circles over my knuckles, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape. Through the bond, I felt his contentment—deep and steady, like a wolf settled by its hearth after a long hunt. But beneath it, there was something taut, a quiet tension he was trying to bury.  

"You're thinking too loud," I murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.  

His lips curved faintly. "Am I?"  

"The bond doesn't lie." I tilted my head, studying the slight furrow between his brows. "What is it? Did something your father said before we left bother you?"  

He was silent for a beat, then exhaled. "Nothing you need to worry about. Just… academy politics. Father wanted to give me a heads-up."  

I shifted closer until my shoulder brushed his arm, letting my warmth seep into him through the bond. "You know you can tell me if you want to share," I said softly. "I want to help."  

His arm came around me, pulling me snug against his side. "I know. And you are helping—right now." He pressed a kiss to my hair, lingering for a moment. "But some battles are mine to fight, love. You already have enough to carry."  

I smiled while putting his hand on my stomach. "Our child disagrees."  

That drew a low chuckle from him, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. We spent the rest of the ride in quiet comfort, and by the time we reached our home—our sanctuary away from the academy's watchful eyes—I'd almost convinced myself that whatever troubled him would fade.  

---

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed and the faint scent of fresh bread drifting up from the kitchen. Regis had prepared everything, just as he always did. I dressed quickly, winding one of his scarves around my neck to hide the still-vivid mark, and headed downstairs. After enjoying the warm, simple breakfast he'd made, we set out together for the academy.

Mira practically ambushed me in the hallway, her eyes bright with barely contained energy. "Two days! You disappear for two days and come back looking like you spent them soaking in moonlight and honey." She grabbed my arm, steering me toward our classroom. "Spill. Everything."

Heat crept up my neck. "It was just... family time. At his estate."

"'Just family time,'" she mimicked, rolling her eyes. "Eileen, your face is glowing. And that scarf—" She tugged at the edge, revealing a glimpse of the fresh mark beneath. Her gasp was audible. "He re-marked you!"

"Mira!" I hissed, yanking the scarf back into place and glancing around nervously. But the hallway was empty, students already filing into classrooms.

Her fingers closed around mine, the teasing in her eyes softening into genuine warmth. "I'm happy for you. Really. Vane's care is written all over you—anyone with half a brain could see it." Then her expression shifted, more thoughtful now. "But… the academy's been tense lately. I heard the recent reforms have the leadership on edge."

A chill slid down my spine. "Why?"

She lifted a shoulder, though the worry in her gaze didn't match the casual gesture. "Nothing solid. Just… the usual power plays." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't think it's about Instructor Vane, do you?"

"I hope not," I murmured, though deep down I suspected otherwise. Regis had said his father was handling the fallout from that incident, but clearly the ripples hadn't settled.

"Come on," Mira said, tugging me forward. "Professor Ward's starting soon, and you know how she gets when students are late. Besides, she's been hinting at something important for today's lesson."

---

Professor Ward stood at the front of the Healing classroom, her expression more grave than usual. Behind her, a series of diagrams floated in the air—detailed anatomical sketches of wounds that refused to heal, tissue blackened at the edges as though touched by rot.

"Border skirmishes have escalated," she began without preamble, her voice cutting through the murmur of students settling into their seats. "In the past month alone, three war parties have engaged rogue packs near the eastern frontier. These encounters have left our warriors with injuries that defy traditional healing methods."

She gestured to one of the diagrams—a deep gash across a torso, the edges festering despite what appeared to be multiple treatment attempts. "The wounds inflicted by these rogues carry an infection that actively suppresses the body's natural regenerative abilities. Even our most experienced healers have struggled to counter it."

My breath caught. Border warriors. The phrase conjured images of Regis in his silver-black wolf form, moving through shadowed forests, defending territory against threats I could barely imagine. I touched my stomach instinctively, as though to shield the life within from such dangers.

"I'm seeking volunteers," Ms. Ward continued, her gaze sweeping the room. "A research initiative to develop new healing compounds capable of combating this infection. It will require dedication, long hours in the laboratory, and a willingness to study cases that may be... difficult to witness."

Silence blanketed the classroom. Students exchanged uncertain glances, but no hands rose.

I thought of Regis, of Kieran and the other warriors who put themselves between danger and those they protected. I thought of the child growing inside me, who would one day need a safer world than this. And I thought of Kristina's words when I kissed her goodbye: "You have more strength than you know. You just need to see it."

My hand lifted before I could second-guess myself.

Ms. Ward's eyes widened fractionally before settling into approval. "Miss Wylde. I confess I'm surprised, but grateful. Please see me after class to discuss the details."

Beside me, Mira's whisper was urgent. "Eileen, are you insane? This is something even the professors can't solve—"

"I want to try," I said quietly, my resolve hardening. "Those warriors... they protect everyone. I can't fight, but maybe I can help them survive."

She stared at me for a long moment before shaking her head with a reluctant smile. "You're going to give me a heart condition, you know that?"

After class, Ms. Ward pulled me aside, explaining the scope of the project and the resources available. Her expectations were high, but her faith in my abilities was evident. As I left her office, agreement signed and research materials in hand, I felt something unfamiliar stir in my chest—not fear or obligation, but *purpose*.