One Night With My Alpha Professor by Eve Above Story

Chapter 279

Audrey

Edwin and I emerged from the small room, his hand still resting protectively on my back. The hustle and bustle of last- minute preparations immediately hit us, assistants running back and forth, models being ushered into position, and the soft hum of the audience’s chatter drifting through the walls.

“I guess no one would have noticed our little tryst anyway,” Edwin mused under his breath with a smirk.

I glanced up at him, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively. But a sound caused us both to whip our heads toward the dressing

area.

“Owww! My ankle!”

Exchanging worried glances, Edwin and I rushed toward the sound. A small group had gathered in a huddle near the back of the dressing area. In the center of the commotion was a young woman, one of the models, seated on a chair with her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she cried out.

I hurried over, Edwin following closely behind.

“What happened?” I asked, kneeling in front of the model. She looked up at me, her face pale, tears clinging to her lashes. “I–I twisted my ankle really bad,” she stammered, wincing as she shifted her foot slightly. “I was fine earlier, but it hurts to put any weight on it now…”

Someone behind her chimed in, “She tripped backstage. I thought she’d just shaken it off, but…”

I glanced down at her ankle, which was already beginning to swell slightly under the delicate straps of her shoe. The show was minutes from starting. Panic might have been setting in, but I couldn’t afford that luxury–not now.

I took a calming breath, tapping into that silver pool of energy inside of me. With a reassuring smile, I reached out to touch/ her ankle. “May I?” I asked.

She winced, flinching away.

“It’s alright,” I murmured. “I’ll help you.”

a moment of hesitation, the model finally nodded and

touch her ankle.

my healing power flow from my fingertips. It started

the tension in the model’s ankle release, her muscles relaxing as the pain ebbed away. She let out

whispered, pulling my hand

with a look of surprise and relief on her face. Her tears began to fade as she

breathed, a smile breaking through. “Thank you, Luna. Really…

here for. Now, get into place–you’re going

her feet, her previous limp now gone. The relief from the surrounding crew was palpable, and I looked

as

the stage manager said, clapping her hands together. “It’s go

58%

the music began to play, a hush fell over

as the first model stepped into

Designs style: a matching trousers and blazer set with an oversized, masculine fit. The shoulders draped easily over the model’s slender form,

used to stitch everything together glimmered under the stage lights. Cameras flashed, the crowd oohing and ahhing over the

was a stunning slip dress made by my mother in a warm gold tone. The plunging neckline accentuated the model’s bust, the strappy heels and golden arm bands making her look as if she was bound by gold threads. Her hair was long and straight, cascading down

the countless hours, the intricate stitching, the late–night sketches, and the dreams the three of us had poured into this collection. My heart swelled close to bursting as I watched our designs come

on the runway but his approval humming through the bond. My mother stood on my other

throat, and I couldn’t even speak. None of us could. We just watched in awe, holding each other. Piece after piece walked the runway, and the audience’s murmurs of appreciation grew louder, a few exclamations of awe reaching my ears

finally, it was time

my mother. I hoped that this piece wasn’t too out there, too

nonsense.

stepped onto the runway. I held my breath as she took her first step, the fabric

me, the flowers and birds and rays of sunlight. But there were also the darker ones, the

coalescing into the