Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The coordinated attack that spoke of intelligence gathering and careful planning. I described my injuries in all their ugly detail, emphasizing how close I’d come to dying.

When I finished, his gaze swept over me as if checking for wounds he knew wouldn’t be there. Completely healed. How?

I suspected assistance in the Whispering Woods. I chose my words carefully. “Someone with considerable healing skill found me and treated me very effectively.”

His eyebrows rose. “Not one of our patrols?”

“A civilian, I believe. I was not fully conscious at the time.”

It wasn’t quite a lie. I truly didn’t know who she was. But the omission felt heavy on my tongue, and from the way my father’s eyes narrowed further, he knew.

He steepled his fingers, studying me with the intensity that had made him a formidable Alpha in his prime. “And this mysterious healer. You intend to find them? To express your gratitude?”

“Mm.” He was quiet for a moment, and I could almost see him putting pieces together. The timing of my return. The faint scent I probably carried despite my attempts to wash in the stream. The tension in my shoulders that had nothing to do with combat injuries.

But he didn’t push. That was my father’s way—he gave his children space to handle their own affairs, trusting us to come to him when we needed guidance.

“The Blackthorne incursion is concerning,” he said instead, returning to safer ground. “If they’re bold enough to ambush an Alpha heir on the border, they’re testing our defenses. Looking for weaknesses.”

“I agree. And that brings me to my other concern.” I leaned forward, grateful for the distraction of strategy. “If they can coordinate an attack on me, they could coordinate one on the academy itself. Our non-combat students would be defenseless.”

“You’re thinking of the healer program expansion.” It wasn’t a question.

“Among others. We have brilliant students in the healing track, the administrative track, the crafting track. But if the academy came under attack while our warriors were deployed elsewhere…” I let the implication hang.

“They’d be slaughtered.” My father’s jaw tightened. “I’ve also been considering this for some time. The world is changing, Regis. The old ways—where healers and warriors fight and never the two shall meet—those ways are becoming a liability.”

“Then let me help change them.” The words came out more intense than I’d intended. The memory of small hands pressed to my wounds. The scent of hope and courage. “Make basic self-defense mandatory for all students. Not to turn healers into warriors, but to give them a chance to survive. To protect themselves until help arrives.”

He studied me for a long moment, and I wondered if he could see it written on my face—the desperate need to keep her safe, whoever she was. To make sure that if danger came, students had the tools to face it.

“As it happens,” he said slowly, “your new position would be perfect for implementing such a program.”

I blinked. “New position?”

“Think?” He snarled in my mind. “She left. She was hurt. I felt it—that spike of pain, that shame. What if she’s in danger?”

“She’s not in danger,” I said quietly, though my chest tightened at the memory of her distress. “She’s… overwhelmed. Confused. Maybe even scared.”

“Of us?” Valdor’s voice cracked with something close to anguish.

“Of what this means,” I corrected gently. “She ran, Valdor. She felt the bond and she ran. That tells me she’s not ready to face this yet. If we push now—if we corner her—we’ll only make it worse.”

He went silent, sulking.

“She doesn’t know what we are to her,” I continued, more to myself than to him. “She might not even understand what she felt. We need to give her space. Let her come to terms with it in her own time.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

I exhaled slowly. “Then we earn her trust. Slowly. Carefully. We don’t scare her away.”

Valdor growled, but didn’t argue.