Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 74

Regis

"Eileen." I kept my voice neutral, professional. "A moment?"

She followed me into the relative privacy of the hallway, and I immediately pulled her into an empty classroom, unable to resist any longer.

"Regis—" she started, but I silenced her with a kiss, pouring everything I couldn't say publicly into the press of my lips against hers.

When we broke apart, she was breathless and smiling. "That was... you didn't have to do that. Present the award, I mean."

"I wanted to." I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You deserved to be recognized properly. Publicly. With the full weight of what you accomplished made clear."

"I couldn't believe it when you walked in," she admitted, fingers twisting in my shirt. "I thought I was imagining things."

"No imagination required, love." I pressed another kiss to her forehead. "Just pride. So much pride."

We stood like that for a long moment before reality intruded. I sighed, reluctant. "I have a council meeting this evening. Border security briefing."

Her face fell slightly. "Oh."

"Wait for me in my office?" I suggested. "I'll have dinner sent up. It shouldn't run too late, and then we can go home together." I cupped her face.

She leaned into my touch, nodding. "Okay. Your office."

"Good." One more kiss, because I couldn't help myself. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

---

The Elder Council chamber felt particularly oppressive that evening. Ancient stone, dim lighting, and the weight of centuries of tradition pressing down on anyone who dared suggest change.

My father and I arrived together, both in formal house colors. The agenda listed border security, but everyone knew Cornelius would find a way to make this about Eileen.

He waited until we'd covered patrol rotations and supply lines before making his move.

"Before we adjourn," he said smoothly, "I feel compelled to address a matter of some... concern. This afternoon's recognition ceremony."

Here we go, Valdor growled.

"What concern?" my father asked mildly, though his eyes had gone sharp.

"The recipient. Miss Wylde." Cornelius's tone dripped false consideration. "I don't question her academic work, of course. But awarding our highest healing honors to someone who cannot shift... it sets a troubling precedent. What message does this send about the value we place on traditional bloodlines?"

Several elders nodded. Others looked uncomfortable but said nothing.

Rage simmered in my gut, but I'd learned patience these past weeks. Learned that cold calculation served better than hot fury when dealing with small-minded fools.

Before I could respond, Father rose smoothly. "I have here a document you may find relevant." He unfolded an official paper bearing the border garrison's crest. "A formal commendation from Commander Hayes—he has no idea that Eileen will be the future Luna."

He began reading, his voice carrying clearly through the chamber. "'The treatment protocol developed by Healer Wylde has saved twenty-three lives in our first week of implementation. Request immediate addition to standard field medic training. Further request that Healer Wylde be consulted for future research initiatives regarding combat-related infections. Her contribution to our defensive capabilities cannot be overstated.'"

Father's gaze swept the assembled elders. "This commendation was issued based solely on effectiveness. The commander's only concern was preserving warrior lives—which Miss Wylde's research has accomplished beyond question."

"Nevertheless—" Cornelius began.

"There is no 'nevertheless,'" I cut in, my voice sharp enough to make several elders flinch. I stood, letting my full Alpha presence fill the room. "My... the healer saved twenty-three lives through knowledge and skill. That is the purpose of healing—to protect and preserve our people through whatever means available."

I leaned forward, letting my eyes flash ice-blue. "Or do you suggest we should value transformation ability over the actual preservation of our warriors' lives? That we should let defenders die rather than accept treatment from someone whose bloodline you deem insufficient?"

The challenge hung in the air, stark and unavoidable. To agree would make them look callous and foolish. To disagree would undermine their entire argument about bloodline superiority.

Cornelius's jaw worked soundlessly. Around the table, elders shifted uncomfortably.

"The border situation is certainly complex," one finally muttered.

"Then we're agreed," Father said pleasantly, as if the matter had been settled amicably. "Miss Wylde's contributions will be officially recognized and utilized in service to our people. Her treatment protocol will be added to standard training, and she will serve as a consultant on future medical research as the commander requested."

He smiled without warmth. "After all, preserving warrior lives is our highest priority. Isn't that right, Cornelius?"

The old wolf's face had gone mottled red, but he couldn't argue. Not without openly admitting he valued tradition over survival.

"Meeting adjourned," Alfred announced.

As the council dispersed, he clapped my shoulder. "Well played. Both of us."

"She earned this." The words came out rougher than intended. "She deserves to have her work valued without constantly defending it."

"She does," Father agreed quietly. "And now she has institutional backing to protect it." His expression sobered. "Though Cornelius won't let this go. Be prepared."

"I am." I glanced toward the door, toward where Eileen waited. "But tonight, I just want to take my mate home."

Father's eyes crinkled. "Then go. She's had quite a day. I imagine she could use some peace."

I didn't need to be told twice.

---

Eileen was curled in the chair by my office window when I arrived. She'd removed her shoes and tucked her feet under her, and the silver badge still gleamed on her collar.

She looked up as I entered, a smile blooming across her face. "How was the meeting?"

"Tedious. Predictable." I crossed to her, unable to resist pulling her up into my arms. "But ultimately satisfactory."

She melted against me, and through the bond I felt her exhaustion, her lingering disbelief about the ceremony, and underneath it all, a quiet current of contentment.

"Ready to go home?" I murmured against her hair.

"More than ready." She pulled back slightly to look at me, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "And... there's something I want to give you tonight."

"What is it? After what you've already given me—pride and happiness."

Her lips curved into a secretive smile. "You'll see. Not here… later."