One Night With My Alpha Professor by Eve Above Story

Chapter 269

Audrey

“Edwin, I swear to the Goddess, if you tear those stitches again-

“I’m fine,” Edwin grunted as he lifted the heavy wooden sign over his head, his muscles straining with the effort. Sweat beaded at his temple despite the crisp autumn breeze, and through the bond, I could feel the throb of pain that he was clearly trying so hard to hide.

I crossed my arms, watching him warily from the sidewalk as he balanced on the ladder, looking way too confident for someone who had been stabbed less than two weeks ago.

“You were stabbed through the chest,” I reminded him pointedly. “Less than two weeks ago. There is nothing ‘fine‘ about this.”

“Audrey’s right,” Gavin called up from where he stood, holding the ladder steady. “I could’ve done this myself, you know.”

But Edwin, of course, just shook his head, that familiar stubborn set to his jaw as he focused on securing the new sign above Avis’s shop window. The fresh paint gleamed under the morning sun, the words Avis’s Tailoring standing out in elegant golden script.

“Seriously, I’m fine. This is the least I can do,” Edwin muttered, his breath hitching slightly as he tightened the last bracket. “And for what, exactly?” I asked, crossing my arms tighter as I glared up at him. “For nearly dying?”

He ignored me, his jaw clenching as he carefully descended the ladder. “After everything with Nightfall-”

“Which wasn’t your fault,” I interjected quickly, but Edwin kept his focus on the sign, as if finishing this one small task was somehow going to make up for the chaos that we had all endured.

Gavin and I exchanged glances as Edwin worked. He’d been blaming himself with the Nightfall situation–claiming that if he had just done something to stop Black from ruining the market’s natural balance in our territory, that Avis’s shop and so many others never would have suffered.

Of course, none of us believed that it was his fault. And even if we had somehow kept Nightfall from starting business here in Crescent, Black would have just gone elsewhere. The only way to handle that whole mess was to stop it at the root.

Which we had.

Atticus Black was dead. In the days that followed the disaster, his body–along with many of the others who had worked for him–had been uncovered from the rubble. No one mourned him, nor did they mourn that awful business of his, half of which had been swallowed up by a sinkhole.

to happen. It was the

between Edwin, Peter, Betty

all knew that it had been my scream–my agony–that had brought the place down. That somehow, I had tapped into some divine, ancient entity inside of me when I had screamed. It was as if, during the moments that I’d

earth.

though, was much more palatable for the public. And more palatable for my own peace of mind, if I

rolled my eyes so hard at my mate’s stubbornness that it almost hurt.

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Chapter 209

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through our mate bond, a quiet chuckle echoing through our Mindlink, as I turned on my heel and headed inside the little bell above the

shop was warm and alive with activity. Betty and Peter were bent over a mountain of fabric swatches to sort, Tina was helping my mother with cleaning the place, and Avis was processing a steadily growing stack of orders–which had been coming

bad for buying into fast fashion, and were making up

her lap as she read to him. She was pointing at words on the page, and although he wasn’t speaking them out loud, he was mouthing them silently as she

seemed, how much life had returned to his eyes in just a few weeks. No one told him exactly what happened with the factory, of course. We’d just told him that no more

paperwork as I approached. “Orders are up thirty percent from last month,”

finally realized where the real talent is,” Tina declared as she rolled up a bolt

from across the room. “Yeah, nothing says

at Peter Joseph, for his part, seemed too

samples, but my mind wandered.. My eyes kept drifting toward the still–empty storefront across the street, where

I knew what I wanted to do, I could see it so clearly in my mind–a boutique, large windows filled with my designs. Every purchase would mean something more, where profits would flow back into the community, into charities, into helping

quite have the savings. I’d decided to start online first, making and selling my designs from home, until I saved up enough to buy a shop of my own. But that place would likely be snatched up before I

suddenly nudged me in the ribs. “You’re doing it

what?” I blinked, my vision dissolving as I snapped

dreamy far–off stare,” she said with a

I could feel my cheeks warming under my friends‘