Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 16

The sun streamed in through the dormitory window, marking the passage of time I’d been desperately trying to ignore. Mira had left for her advanced psettoman hum apn, her cheerful reminder that it’s just picking up a device, Fil, you’ll be fine! still echoing in the empty room. Now I sat on the sofa by the bed, staring at my hands twisted in my lap, willing myself to stand up and face what was coming.

The door at the end of the hall, solid oak with a brass nameplate that read R. Vane, Combat Instructor. I stopped a few feet away, close enough that the two–day and mint and something uniquely him–washed over me through the gap beneath the door. My body reacted instantly, that traitorous warmth winding through my chest, reaching for something it had no right to claim.

I raised my hand to knock, but my knuckles had barely grazed the wood when his voice came from inside, low and careful: “Come in, Miss Wylde.”

He’d known I was there. Of course he had–Alphas could sense their mates. I gripped the handle, forced myself to turn it, and stepped into his office.

The first thing that hit me was the full force of his scent, no longer diluted by distance. It wrapped around me like a physical thing, and I had to lock my knees to keep from swaying. The second thing was him–standing behind a large wooden desk, backlit by the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe.

I’d seen him in the training yard, had forced myself to look away before I could register more than his commanding presence. But here, in the intimate space of his office, I couldn’t avoid the full impact. He was tall in a way that made me feel impossibly small, his face all sharp angles and precise lines, the kind of masculine beauty that seemed carved rather than born, and those ice–blue eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

For just a second, my mind flashed back to that night in the forest–moonlight painting silver across bare skin, those same eyes blown dark with something that wasn’t quite human–and heat flooded my face so fast I felt dizzy.

I dropped my gaze immediately, staring at the polished floor while my fingers found the edge of my scarf and gripped it like a lifeline.

“Please, sit down.” His voice was gentle, carefully modulated. When I didn’t move, he added, “Or stand, if you prefer. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I’ll stand,” I managed, and was proud when my voice came out steady despite the chaos in my chest. “Thank you, Instructor.”

He moved to a small table near the window where a kettle sat warming over a low flame, the domesticity of it somehow more intimate than if he’d stayed formal and distant.

“I made coffee,” he said, pouring dark liquid into a simple ceramic mug. He turned, holding it out.

I took the mug because refusing would have been more awkward, my hands trembling as they wrapped around the warm ceramic. When I risked a glance up at his face, his expression was carefully neutral, but something in his eyes looked almost… pained.

He returned to his desk but didn’t sit behind it. Instead, he leaned against the edge, maintaining distance but not hiding behind furniture–another small gesture, removing the physical barrier of authority between us.

I took a sip of the coffee, more to have something to do with my hands than because I wanted it.

I headed toward the door, desperate to escape before I completely fell apart in front of him. My vision was blurred with tears, my chest so tight I thought I might crack open, and all I could think was run, get out before he sees—

“Eileen, wait—”

His voice followed me, low and urgent and tinged with something that sounded almost like desperation, but I was already moving. My hand found the doorknob, wrenched it open, and then I was stumbling into the hallway, running blind, not caring where I went as long as it was away from his office, away from his scent, away from the mate bond that pulled at my chest like a hook in my ribs.

Behind me, I heard him take a single step toward the door. Heard him stop. Heard his breath catch in a way that sounded like it hurt.

But he didn’t chase me.

He let me go.

And somehow, that hurt even more.