Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 72

Eileen

The change was immediately visible.

The grayish-purple tinge at the wound's edges had receded noticeably, the angry inflammation reduced. The seeping discharge had slowed to barely a trickle, and when I carefully pressed the tissue surrounding the infection, it gave normally instead of that spongy, corrupted resistance.

"Marcus?" My voice came out rough with suppressed emotion. "How do you feel?"

His eyes opened slowly, and for the first time in days, they focused clearly on my face. "It... doesn't hurt as much. The burning—it's still there, but duller. Like it's... fading?"

Behind me, I heard the observation room door open, warriors crowding in to see. Their muttering grew louder as they registered the visible improvement, shock and tentative hope spreading through the group.

I had to check three more times before I let myself believe it. Each measurement confirmed the same thing: infection retreat, tissue regeneration beginning, vital signs stabilizing.

It was working.

Tears blurred my vision as I straightened, nearly stumbling in my haste to verify the readings one final time. Through the glass partition, I caught sight of the observation area—and there, standing apart from the cluster of students and faculty, was Regis.

He wasn't in the crowd. He stood by the window overlooking the treatment room, perfectly still, his ice-blue eyes locked on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. Even from this distance, I could read everything in that gaze: pride, relief, absolute certainty that I would succeed.

When our eyes met, he didn't rush forward or make any grand gesture. He simply gave me a slow, deliberate nod, the corner of his mouth lifting in the gentlest smile—one that said *I knew you could do this* as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud.

I smiled back tremulously, tears finally spilling over, and mouthed: *I did it.*

His smile widened fractionally, warm enough to rival the sun.

---

Regis

I'd known the testing was scheduled for three o'clock. I'd rearranged training sessions, delegated supervision, and arrived at the healing ward with fifteen minutes to spare—only to find the observation area already crowded with spectators.

The sight made Valdor snarl. They'd come to watch her fail. To mock. To confirm their prejudices about wolfless healers playing at medicine.

Kieran had tried to restrain me at the door. "Remember—she needs you to be controlled right now, not protective."

I'd forced myself to nod, to take up a position by the window rather than barging into the treatment room itself. But every instinct screamed to be at her side, to stand between her and those watching jackals.

Through the glass, I watched Eileen kneel beside Marcus's bed, her small frame somehow radiating steady competence as she explained the treatment. Even warriors twice her size seemed to gentle in her presence, responding to that innate healer's calm.

Pride swelled so fierce in my chest I could barely breathe.

Then she began applying the formula, and Marcus's agonized reaction made Valdor roar for blood. I pressed one hand flat against the glass, knuckles white, fighting the urge to crash through and stop this—to pull her away before she had to bear witness to such suffering.

But she didn't flinch. Didn't hesitate. She worked with steady hands and soft apologies, and when Marcus's pain finally eased, she sat vigil on the floor like a warrior guarding a fallen comrade.

That's exactly what she is, I thought with fierce certainty. A warrior. Just a different kind.

The three-hour wait was excruciating. I watched her refuse food, barely sip water, her entire focus locked on Marcus's life signs. Behind me, I heard Celeste's cruel comment and had to physically restrain myself from turning around and removing the smirk from her face with my claws.

Kieran's hand landed on my shoulder, heavy with warning. "Not yet. Let Eileen have this moment."

He was right. This was her battle, and she was winning it.

When the three-hour mark arrived and she approached Marcus's bedside, I stopped breathing entirely. Her initial assessment took only seconds—but those seconds stretched into eternity as I waited for her reaction.

Then her shoulders dropped, relief transforming her entire posture, and I knew.

She'd done it. My brilliant, stubborn, impossible mate had just cured an infection that should have been fatal.

Warriors crowded forward, their voices rising in shock and tentative celebration. Eileen checked and rechecked her measurements, clearly not trusting her own success, tears streaming freely down her face.

And then she looked up and found me through the window.

The bond between us blazed like sunlight, carrying her wonder and disbelief and desperate hope all at once. I wanted nothing more than to vault through that glass, sweep her into my arms, and tell her exactly how magnificent she was—but this wasn't the time for grand romantic gestures.

So instead, I smiled. Let my pride and faith and absolute conviction show in my eyes, gave her the small nod that said *I see you, I'm proud of you, and I always knew you'd succeed.*

Her answering smile, tremulous and tear-stained and incandescent with joy, nearly brought me to my knees.

*I did it,* she mouthed.

*You did,* I agreed silently, pressing my palm flat against the glass as if I could touch her through the barrier. *My brave, brilliant luna. You saved him.*

Around me, the observation room erupted into noise—healers rushing to verify results, warriors shouting questions, Kieran letting out a whoop of celebration. But I barely registered any of it.

All I could see was Eileen, standing in that treatment room with Marcus already looking stronger behind her, owning her victory with quiet dignity.

Mine, Valdor purred with deep satisfaction. Ours. And she'll never doubt her worth again.

I couldn't wait to tell her exactly that—in private, where I could hold her close and make certain she understood what she'd just accomplished. Not just medically, but personally.

She'd stepped into her power. Claimed her place. Proven to everyone—but most importantly to herself—that she belonged.

Later, when the crowd thinned and official documentation was complete, I'd take her home and celebrate properly. For now, though, I contented myself with standing guard at my window, watching over her as she began the careful process of treating the other infected warriors.

My mate. My luna. My everything.

And I'd never been prouder in my entire life.