The Professor’s Rejected Mute Mate

THE PULL

11

Arkon's POV

The moment Ayla's scream pierced the air, every instinct in my body roared to life. I caught her before she hit the ground, her body seizing in my arms as silver light poured from the pendant around her neck.

"Elena, what's happening?" I demanded, holding Ayla against my chest as she convulsed.

"The awakening," Elena said, her voice maddeningly calm. "Her body is remembering what it was before the ritual. It's painful, but necessary."

"Painful?" My voice rose despite my attempt at control. "She's in agony!"

"And you care more than a professor should," Elena observed, those pale eyes seeing far too much. "Interesting."

I ignored her, focusing entirely on Ayla. Her silver eyes had rolled back, showing only whites. Her skin was ice cold despite the silver fire emanating from the pendant. Without thinking, I pressed two fingers to the pressure point at the base of her skull, an old technique my grandmother had taught me for stopping seizures.

Ayla went limp in my arms.

The silver light dimmed but didn't disappear completely. It pulsed beneath her skin now, like a second heartbeat thrumming in time with my own racing pulse.

"You knocked her unconscious," Elena said with what sounded like approval.

"She was suffocating. Her body couldn't handle the surge." I lifted Ayla carefully, cradling her against my chest. She felt too light, too fragile for someone carrying so much power. "We need to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere she can ride this out without drawing attention."

"Your apartment is closest," Elena suggested.

I hesitated. Taking a student to my private residence violated about a dozen academy rules rules I had helped write, for f**k's sake. The kind of violation that could get me fired, investigated, possibly banned from teaching.

But looking down at Ayla's pale face, her white hair falling across my arm, those rules seemed insignificant compared to keeping her safe.

And that realization terrified me more than anything else.

"Fine," I said. "But you're coming with us. I need you to monitor her condition."

Elena nodded, a knowing smile playing at her lips that I chose to ignore.

---

The drive to my apartment felt like it took hours instead of fifteen minutes. I kept one hand on the wheel and the other on Ayla's wrist, monitoring her pulse. It was steady but slow, and the pendant continued glowing beneath her shirt.

I drove faster.

My apartment was on the edge of campus, a small two-bedroom place I'd chosen specifically for its privacy. No neighbors close enough to hear anything. No prying eyes to witness comings and goings. Just trees and silence and distance from the politics of the Academy.

Now I was grateful for that isolation for entirely different reasons.

I carried Ayla inside and laid her on my bed, trying to ignore how right she looked there, her white hair spread across my dark pillows, her small frame fitting perfectly in the space I'd slept alone for years. Elena followed, already pulling crystals and herbs from her seemingly bottomless bag.

This is wrong, I told myself. This is so far over the line you can't even see the line anymore.

But I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

"How long will she be out?" I asked, unable to take my eyes off Ayla's face.

"An hour. Maybe more." Elena began arranging her items around the bed in some pattern only she understood. "The longer the better, actually. Her consciousness needs time to integrate with her awakening power. If she wakes too soon, it could fracture her mind."

My stomach twisted. "You could have warned me about this."

"Would you have chosen differently if I had?" Elena's pale eyes met mine with uncomfortable directness. "That girl has spent her whole life being afraid, being small, being told she's broken. She needed to choose bravery without knowing the cost. Otherwise, she never would have done it."

I wanted to argue, but she was probably right. Ayla had been broken down so thoroughly by her pack that any hint of danger would have sent her running.

Still. I didn't like being manipulated, even for good reasons.

"Sit," Elena commanded, gesturing to the chair beside the bed. "And tell me why you're acting like a mate who's just watched his woman get hurt, when you're supposed to be just her professor."

"I'm protecting a student," I said stiffly, lowering myself into the chair but keeping my distance from the bed.

"You're lying to yourself." Elena began lighting candles around the room, the scent of sage filling the air. "I can see the bond forming between you. It's faint still, barely more than a thread, but it's there."

My hands clenched into fists. "That's impossible. She's bonded to Damien."

"Is she?" Elena raised an eyebrow. "Because from what I observed, that bond feels wrong. Forced. Like someone tried to tie two incompatible souls together and hoped they wouldn't notice the seams showing."

I had thought the same thing, felt it in my gut the moment I'd first touched Ayla's hand—but hearing it confirmed made my blood run cold. "Who would do that? And why?"

"Those are excellent questions." Elena sat on the other side of the bed, placing her hand over Ayla's heart. "But first, we need to make sure she survives the awakening. Then we can worry about conspiracy theories."

I watched as Elena worked, her magic flowing over Ayla in waves of pale blue light. The silver glow from the pendant responded, the two colors intertwining and pulsing in rhythm.

And I tried very hard not to think about how badly I wanted to crawl into that bed beside Ayla and hold her until she woke up. How natural it felt to have her in my space. How the apartment already smelled like her, like snow and pine and something uniquely her.

She's a student, I reminded myself firmly. Twenty years old. Vulnerable. Traumatized. Under your protection.

But my wolf didn't care about any of that. My wolf recognized something in her that called to the oldest, most primal parts of me. Something that said *mine* with a certainty I'd never felt before.

"You're thinking very loudly," Elena commented without looking up from her work.

"Stay out of my head."

"I don't need to be in your head. Your face says everything." She smiled slightly. "You're falling for her. And it terrifies you because you know you shouldn't. Because you know what it means if you are."

I didn't answer. What could I say that wouldn't sound like an excuse or a confession?

"For what it's worth," Elena continued, her voice gentler now, "I don't think the universe makes mistakes when it comes to bonds. If you're being pulled toward her, there's a reason."

"The reason is that I'm a bastard who can't control himself around a beautiful young woman who depends on me for protection," I said bitterly.

"Or," Elena said, "the reason is that you're her true mate, and whatever bond was forced on her with Damien is nothing but a pale imitation."

True mates. I'd heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. But they were rare practically mythical. The chances of finding one in a single lifetime were astronomical.

And yet...

I looked at Ayla, at the way the silver light played across her features, at the peace on her face despite the magic coursing through her veins. And I felt that pull again, stronger now like invisible strings connecting my heart to hers, drawing tighter with every breath she took.

"Even if that's true," I said quietly, forcing the words out, "she's still my student. She's still young and traumatized and needs someone who can help her, not someone who will complicate her life further by imposing feelings she might not return. Or worse, feelings she might think she has to return because I hold power over her grades, her future."

"Sometimes the people we need most are the ones who complicate everything," Elena said. "Besides, she's not a child, Arkon. She's a grown woman who has survived more hardship than most wolves twice her age. Give her some credit. Give her agency."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," I said. "By not putting her in a position where she has to navigate her professor's feelings on top of everything else."

"Noble," Elena observed. "But you might not have a choice. True mate bonds don't ask permission. They don't care about appropriateness or timing or power dynamics. They simply are."

Before I could respond, Ayla stirred. Her eyes moved beneath her closed lids, and a soft sound escaped her lips—not quite a moan, not quite a word, but something in between.

My hand moved before I could stop it, brushing a strand of white hair from her face. Her skin was warmer now, the deathly cold receding.

"She's coming back," Elena murmured. "Be ready. She'll be disoriented and possibly afraid."

I pulled my hand back quickly, putting professional distance between us even though everything in me screamed to stay close.

Ayla's eyes opened slowly. For a moment, they were pure silver, glowing with inner light like liquid moonlight. Then they faded to their normal shade, confusion and fear clouding them as she processed her surroundings.

She sat up so fast she nearly headbutted me, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she looked around wildly. When her gaze landed on me, some of the panic eased and wasn't that dangerous, that she found comfort in me?

Her hand went to her throat, to the pendant still glowing there. Then she grabbed for her whiteboard, which Elena had thoughtfully placed on the nightstand.

"What happened?" she wrote, her hand shaking so badly the words were barely legible. "Where am I?"

"My apartment," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and professional despite the way my heart was racing. "You had a reaction to the pendant. I brought you here to keep you safe."

Her eyes widened.