The Professor's Mate Clause novel Chapter 78

CHAPTER 78

FREYA’S POV

I wake up to sunlight and the smell of coffee.

Adrian’s side of the bed is empty but still warm I can hear him moving around. The clink of mugs. The sound of the coffee maker. Domestic sounds that feel surreal after yesterday’s darkness.

I stretch. Everything is pleasantly sore. Last night was exactly what we both needed. Connection. Intimacy. Proof that we’re still alive. Still capable of creating something beautiful together.

I pull on one of his shirts and pad out to the kitchen. He’s standing at the counter. Shirtless. Wearing just sweatpants. Making breakfast. Pancakes from the smell of it.

“You are cook?” I lean against the doorway. Admiring the view. 1

He turns. Smiles when he sees me. A real smile. The first one since the execution. “I do many things. You just haven’t seen most of them yet.”

“I like this domestic side of you.” I cross to him. Wrap my arms around him from behind. “Alpha by day. Chef by morning. What other hidden talents do you have?” 2

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.” He flips a pancake expertly. “Coffee’s ready. Your mug is the blue one.”

I pour myself a cup. Watch him work. He’s relaxed this morning. The tension from yesterday eased. Not gone. Never gone. But manageable. Bearable.

“How’d you sleep?” I sip my coffee. Perfect temperature. Perfect amount of cream. He knows exactly how I like it.

“Better than I expected. You wore me out.” He glances over his shoulder. A hint of mischief in his eyes. “In the best way.”

“Good. That was the plan.” I steal a piece of bacon from the plate. “What’s the occasion? You never cook.” 2

“Felt like doing something normal. Something that doesn’t involve death or politics or pack business.” He plates the pancakes. ” Just us. Being together. Being domestic.” 1

We sit at the small table. Just the two of us. Eating breakfast. Talking about nothing important. Weather. Pack gossip. Clara’s new boyfriend. Normal couple things.

It’s perfect. Simple. Everything I didn’t know I needed.

“This is nice.” I say after a while. “Just being us. No Alpha duties. No life or death decisions. Just breakfast

“We should do it more often.” He reaches across the table. Takes my hand. “Make time for this. For normal. For being Adrian and Freya instead of Alpha and almost-Luna.”

“I’d like that.” I squeeze his hand. “Though I’m pretty sure normal isn’t in our future. Not with everything going on.”

“Then we steal moments like this, Make our own normal.” He brings my hand to his lips. Kisses my knuckles. “Whatever it takes to keep us sane. Keep us human.”

We finish eating. Do the dishes together. He washes. I dry. Working in comfortable silence just being together. Just existing in the same space without pressure or expectation

“Can I ask you something?” I set down the last plate.

“Anything.”

“Your past. Your history. You’ve been Alpha for a long time but I don’t really know your story. How you got here. What shaped you into who you are.” I lean against the counter. “Will you tell me?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Drying his hands. Thinking. “It’s not a happy story.”

“I didn’t expect it to be. But I want to know. Want to understand you better. Understand what drives you. What haunts you.”

He nods slowly. “Okay. But not here. Let’s go somewhere comfortable. This might take a while.”

We move to the living room. Settle on the couch. I curled against his side. Him with his arm around me. Both of us finding comfort in the contact.

“I was born Alpha.” He starts. “My father was Alpha before me. His father before him. Gir bloodline has led this pack for over two hundred years.”

“So it was always your destiny. Never had a choice.”

“No. From the moment I was born I was being groomed to lead. Trained. Taught. Prepared for the weight of responsibility.” He strokes my hair absently. “My father was a good Alpha. Strong. Fair. Respected. I wanted to be like him.”

Some stories are funny. Like the time a witch accidentally turned half his pack bright pink for a week. Or when Marcus challenged him to a drinking contest and spent two days sleeping it off in wolf form

Some are tragic. Lost friends. Fallen warriors. Decisions that haunted him. Prices paid for peace. The weight of every life lost under his watch.

All of it painting a picture of a man who’s carried impossible burdens for longer than I’ve been alive. Who’s sacrificed everything for his pack. Who’s earned his authority through blood and tears and centuries of service.

“You’re incredible.” I say when he finally stops. “Everything you’ve survived. Everything you’ve accomplished. Two hundred years of leadership and you’re still standing. Still fighting. Still protecting everyone.””

“I’m tired Freya. So fucking tired.” The admission sounds like it’s been buried for decades. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just… stop. Let someone else lead. Be free of the responsibility.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because the pack needs me. Because there’s no one else ready to take over. Because stepping down feels like abandoning them. “He runs a hand through his hair. “And because being Alpha is all I’ve ever known. I don’t know who I am without it.”

“You’re Adrian. My mate. The man I love. With or without the Alpha title.” I kiss his jaw. “And someday when you’re ready to step down. When someone is ready to take over. You’ll still be all those things. You’ll still matter. You’ll still be worthy.”

“You really believe that?”

“I know it.” I climb into his lap. Straddle him. Cup his face. “You’re not just your position. You’re not just your responsibilities. You’re a whole person with wants and needs and dreams that have nothing to do with being Alpha.”

“I don’t even remember what those dreams are anymore.”

“Then we’ll figure them out together. After all this. After Asher/After the Council. After everything.” I rest my forehead against his. “We’ll find out who Adrian is when he’s not carrying the weight of the world. And I promise you’ll like him.”

He pulls me into a kiss. Deep. Meaningful. Full of promise and hope and something that feels like the beginning of healing. When we break apart he looks lighter. Like telling his story. Being vulnerable. Sharing his burden lifted something heavy off his shoulders.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “For listening. For not judging. For loving all of me. Even the broken parts.

“Especially the broken parts.” I correct. “Those are the pieces that make you real. Make you human. Make you mine.”