Page 1 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

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REYES

"Lord, grant me the strength to endure..."

My voice is low, hoarse, barely audible in the quiet of the outdoor chapel.

"Help me keep the beast at bay tonight, as I’ve done every night before."

The words stumble out of me like they’re dragging my soul behind them. My hands are clasped tight, knuckles white, trembling as I kneel on the worn wood floor.

"Forgive me for the hunger I feel—the hunger I can’t control. For the thoughts that creep in, dark and desperate, when the moon is full and the wolf rises."

I’m on my knees at the altar, hands clasped tight, head bowed. The chapel is makeshift in every possible way–no floors, plain logs for pews, an altar that used to be a music stand bedecked in garlands of flowers, and a cross made of rough-hewn oak. Still, I can feel the divine here…and this is, even without the glitz and glamor of the old church, a sanctuary.

My lips move in prayer, the words quiet but insistent, flowing out of me. “Heavenly Father, grant me strength. Help me hold fast to Your path, even when the beast inside me fights to stray.”

My wolf snarls in my chest, restless and clawing at the edges of my will. He doesn’t care about vows or paths or righteousness. All he cares about is the pull of the moon, the intoxicating scent of sex on the night breeze, the primal need to claim and devour.

The scent of wild sage and incense clings to the air, faint but steady, grounding me just enough to keep the wolf at bay. My nails bite into my hands where they’re clasped together. Every muscle in my body is taut, locked in a battle I’ve fought every full moon since the Angels cursed me with this…thing.

This monster.

My gaze lifts to the cross above the altar, and I force the prayer to continue. “Forgive me, Lord, for the weakness in my heart. For the hunger that tempts me. For the ways I’ve failed You, and for the ways I might fail still.”

The words are a lifeline, but they’re fraying fast.

Outside, the pack’s howls echo faintly from the caverns. Laughter follows, wild and unrestrained, the sound of my fellow lycanthropes indulging every lust and instinct the full moon pulls out of them. It’s a knife in my chest, twisting the more I listen.

This is the life I chose—a life of restraint, of devotion, of denying myself the things I once thought I didn’t need. I took my vows long before the wolf ever took me, long before the Heavenly Host descended and turned the world upside down.

I gave up a family. I gave up love. I gave up all of it for God. And I was at peace with that.

Until they came.

When the Heavenly Host arrived, it turned everything upside down—my faith included. How could it not? I’ve never claimed to understand God’s plan, but I was pretty damn sure it didn’t involve angels invading Earth.

And real angels definitely wouldn’t have kidnapped humans, pumped them full of otherworldly technology, and turned them into monsters.

For two years, I fought them. City to city, burning bridges and building resistance wherever I could. The heat of those nights is still burned into my memory—fires reflecting off the Celestial Curtain, blood and gunpowder in the air.

When they finally caught me, I figured I was dead.

I wasn’t. Instead, they gave me what they called a “blessing.”

Turned me into this.

Now, every full moon, I fight to keep the Alpha Prime—the wolf inside me—caged. He’s relentless, clawing at the walls I’ve built around him, hungry for blood and omega pheromones. The scent of an omega during the full moon? It’s enough to drive him mad. Enough to drivememad.

He doesn’t care who it is, either. He’s not picky.

It’s horrifying, losing control like that. Makes me feel like I’m not even me anymore, like I’m just some beast wearing human skin.

So I stay away. I don’t go near the omegas during the full moon.

Instead, I hide out here in the chapel with my best friend: a bottle of bourbon.

I take a swig and hiss out a breath as the burn hits. Cicadas sing in the live oak canopy overhead, a hum of normalcy in a world that hasn’t been normal in years.

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