The Professor's Mate Clause novel Chapter 133

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Chapter 133

Chapter 133

ADRIAN’S POV

Six years.

Six years since Freya marked me and completed our bond. Six years since we rewrote pack law and changed everything. Six years of marriage, partnership, and building a life that still amazes me every morning I wake up beside her.

Our anniversary falls on a Saturday this year, which means the kids are home, demanding, and completely unaware that today is supposed to be about us.

“Daddy! Aurora took my toy again!” Kai’s voice carries from the playroom.

“Did not! It’s MY toy!” Aurora counters.

Ember, not to be left out, starts crying in sympathy with whoever she thinks is wronged.

Freya groans beside me, burrowing deeper under the covers. “Make them stop.”

“They’re your children too.”

“Not before coffee they’re not.”

I laugh, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Happy anniversary.”

“Is it happy? Because it sounds chaotic.”

“Chaotically happy.” I slide out of bed, pulling on sleep pants. “I’ll handle the children. You sleep.”

“You’re my favorite husband.”

“I’m your only husband.”

“Still my favorite.”

Downstairs, I find Aurora and Kai in a tug–of–war over a stuffed wolf while Ember sits on the floor crying because she can’t have whatever they’re fighting over.

“Enough,” I say, using my Alpha voice.

All three freeze.

“Aurora, is that your toy?”

“Yes.”

“Did you give Kai permission to play with it?”

“…No.”

“Then what should have happened?”

She sighs dramatically. “I should have shared or told him he has to ask first.”

“Correct. Kai, what should you have done?”

1/5

“Asked first,” he mumbles.

“Right. Now apologize to each other and find a way to play together, or I’m confiscating the toy entirely

They tumble apologies and scurry off, already negotiating terms. Ember stops crying immediately, apparently satisfied that justice was served.

Crisis averted.

Clara arrives at nine, as planned, grinning knowingly. “Happy anniversary, you two. Ready for your/day of freedom?”

“So ready,” Freya says, appearing in fresh clothes with wet hair from a quick shower. “You have our emergenc numbers?”

“And Dr. Chen’s, and Chief Winters’s, and three other backup contacts. Freya, I’ve been watching your kids for years. We’ll be fine.”

“I know. I just-”

“Feel guilty leaving them. I know. Stop it. You and Adrian deserve a day together.” Clara shoos us toward the door. “Go. Be adults. Remember what that’s like.”

The plan is simple. Lunch at the restaurant where we had our first date, a walk through the forest where Adrian first showed me his territory, and the evening at the cabin where we spent our honeymoon.

Clara arranged everything, including having the cabin stocked with food and wine, fresh sheets on the bed, and a strict “no interruptions unless someone is dying” policy.

The restaurant is unchanged, still tucked away in town, still serving the same incredible food. We got the same table we had six years ago, back when I was Professor Metcalfe and Freya was my student, both of us dancing around attractions we couldn’t acknowledge.

“Do you remember what you ordered?” Freya asks, studying the menu.

“Steak. Medium rare. You had salmon.”

“I was so nervous that night. I thought for sure you’d realize I had no business being there, that the whole fake relationship thing was a terrible idea.”

“I knew it was a terrible idea,” I admit. “I just didn’t care. I wanted any excuse to be near you.”

Her smile is soft. “I wanted that too. Even though it scared me. Even though you were my professor and it was wrong and complicated.”

“Best terrible idea I ever had.”

We order–steak and salmon, some traditions worth keeping and spend lunch reminiscing. About the early days, the fear and excitement mixed together. The fake relationship that became real faster than either of us anticipated. The moment I marked her, when everything changed.

After lunch, we drive to the forest.

It’s different now. More trails, more pack members using the space, markers indicating territory boundaries. But the core is the same. Ancient trees, quiet spaces, the sense of being somewhere wild and free.

We shift and run, something we don’t do together often anymore. Three kids and pack responsibilities don’t leave much time for aimless running. But today we take it, racing through familiar paths, playing like we’re young

wolves without a care.

I caught Freya near the stream where I first explained pack dynamics to her, tackling her gently into the shallow water. She yelps, laughing, shifting back to human form.

“You’re going to pay for that,” she threatens, water dripping from her hair.

“Promises, promises.”

She lunges, pulling me into the water with her. We surface together, both soaked and laughing like teenagers instead of parents in our thirties.

“I love you,” I say, water streaming down my face.

“I love you too.” She wraps her arms around my neck. “Thank you for six years. For choosing me. For staying. For being exactly who I needed.”

“Thank you for marking me. For making us equal. For being brave enough to change everything.”

We kiss there, in the stream where we’ve had a hundred important conversations, where our relationship deepened from attraction to something permanent.

The kiss tastes like creek water and forever.

By evening, we’re at the cabin, dried off and settled on the deck watching the sunset paint the ocean in shades of gold and rose.

Freya leans against me, wine glass in hand, completely relaxed in a way she rarely is at home.

“We should do this more often,” she murmurs.

“What, abandon our children?” 1

“Take time for us. Remember we’re not just parents and Alphas. We’re mates. Partners. People who chose each other.”

“I will never forget that.” I turn her to face me. “Every day I wake up grateful I get to do this with you. Build this life. Raise these kids. Lead this pack. You make everything better.”

“So do you.” She sets her wine glass aside. “Now stop being sweet and take me inside.”

“Demanding.”

“You love it.”

I do. I love everything about her. Her strength and vulnerability, her fierce protectiveness and gentle patience, the way she challenges me and supports me in equal measure.

Inside, we shed clothes between the door and the bedroom, leaving a trail of fabric in our wake. Six years married, three kids, countless intimacies shared, and I still want her with the same intensity as the first time.

Maybe more, because now I know her completely. Know what makes her gasp, what makes her laugh, what makes her fall apart in my arms.

We make love slowly, taking our time, no rush and no interruptions. Just us, reconnecting in the most fundamental way, the bond singing between us bright and perfect.

After, wrapped together in tangled sheets, Freya traces lazy patterns on my chest.

“Six years,” she says. “It feels like forever and no time at all.”

“Good forever or bad forever?”

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