Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 13

The staff turned as I faced a sea of curious faces and nervous energy. I let my gaze sweep across them, projecting the calm authority of an instructor while struggling to maintain my control.

“Regis Vane,” I said, keeping my voice level and professional. “From today forward, I will be your combat defense instructor. Over the coming months, I will teach you how to survive when healing isn’t enough—how to assess threats, find cover, and buy time for help to arrive.”

A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd. I ignored it, focusing on the lesson plan I’d prepared, on anything except the chamomile scent calling to me from the back rows.

But Valdor had other ideas.

My wolf’s attention kept dragging my gaze back to that spot, to the girl with her head down and her hand on her neck. She was trying so hard to be invisible, and every protective instinct I possessed was screaming at me to go to her, to pull her into my arms and promise that she was safe, that I would never let anyone hurt her.

Including yourself, a bitter voice whispered in my mind. You already did hurt her. You took her choice away.

I forced my attention back to the class, walking them through basic defensive stances, escape routes, the importance of awareness. But I was acutely conscious of her presence, of the way she flinched slightly whenever my voice rose, of how she kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

She was afraid of me. Terrified, even. And I had no one to blame but myself.

“Now then,” I said, needing to shift the dynamic before Valdor’s frustration made me do something foolish. “Let’s test your foundational knowledge. When treating an injured wolf, what’s the first priority?”

I deliberately looked toward the animated girl I’d noticed earlier—the one who’d been chattering excitedly before class started. She was in the fifth row, wearing a green tunic.

“Fifth row, center—the student in green. Your answer?”

The girl stood without hesitation, her confidence clear. “Ensure heartbeat and breathing are stable, Instructor.”

“Your answer?” I kept my voice gentle, fighting to maintain the instructor’s mask when every Alpha instinct was roaring at me to go to her, to figure out how to make that terrified trembling stop.

She was breathing too fast, her hands clenched at her sides. Around her, students were starting to stare, to whisper. I saw Mira lean in, murmuring something reassuring.

“Wait,” she finally managed, her voice barely audible. “Release a distress signal. Avoid direct confrontation.”

“The basic principle is sound.” I deliberately softened my tone further, hoping to ease some of her panic. “Your name, student?”

She looked up then—just for a second—and our eyes met.