Page 20 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

“We’re here,” Peaches says, pausing. Her hands move to the back of my head, untying the blindfold. The knot comes loose, and light floods my vision.

I blink a few times, taking in what she’s brought me to. A natural spring sprawls out in front of us, pools of clear blue water reflecting sunlight streaming through a hole in the cavern ceiling. A thin waterfall pours down, its sound soothing against the backdrop of birdsong and rustling leaves. The edges of the cavern are lined with moss and wildflowers, glowing in the dappled light.

It’s…breathtaking.

Peaches nudges me gently. “Towels are over there,” she says, pointing to a cabinet tucked against the stone wall. “I’d grab one before you hop in.”

I glance toward the pool, then back at her. “Is it warm?”

“Nope,” she says, “but it’s clean. Takes a minute to get used to, but you’ll feel like a person again.”

“So I just…strip?” I ask, feeling more than a little out of my element.

“Yep,” she says, unbothered. “This is one of the springs for just women, though, so don’t worry too much. Plus…when you’re a shifter, you kinda get used to seein’ naked people.”

Of course. Makes sense.

With a shrug, Peaches grabs a towel and starts stripping, her movements casual and unselfconscious. She doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that she’s completely naked as she steps into the water, hissing at the cold.

“It’s fine, Tilda,” she says. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

I glance over my shoulder toward the path we came from. This would be the perfect time to run. But Reyes’ warning echoes in my head:Don’t try anything.

It’s smarter to stay here. Time to reevaluate my plans.

I avert my eyes and tug at my tank top, catching a whiff of the metallic scent of blood Peaches mentioned. I’m glad to be parted from it and from my sweats when I wiggle out of them. I leave the clothes in a heap by the edge of the pool and step toward the water.

The first touch of the spring hits like ice, and I draw in a sharp breath, the cold zipping up my legs. Without giving myself time to chicken out, I take the plunge, sinking into the water until it’s up to my shoulders. It shocks my system, stealing my breath for a moment.

“Whoa,” I mutter, shivering as I tread deeper. “That’s…bracing.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Peaches calls over her shoulder, already halfway to the waterfall. She glances back, her freckles standing out against her pale skin. “Guess I’m just used to it by now. The den can get kinda stuffy, so this feels nice after a while.”

I watch her for a moment, trying to process how effortlessly she seems to glide through this place—this life. She moves like she belongs here, like nothing about any of this is strange to her.

Meanwhile, I’m huddled at the edge of the pool, the water stinging every inch of my battered body.

The wound on my hip throbs angrily, and I grimace, second-guessing this whole idea. “Are you sure this is safe?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t want this to get infected.”

Peaches pauses, floating on her back with a lazy grin. “It won’t,” she says, her tone breezy. “You’re fine. Lycan—uh, never mind.”

I narrow my eyes. “Lycan what?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, flipping upright again. “Trust me. This spring is clean—no infections, no weird diseases. The water drains out into a creek down the hill, and the spring keeps it fresh.”

Her explanation doesn’t put me entirely at ease, but what choice do I have? It’s not like I’m in a position to argue. Plus, I’ve made do with worse during the Crusades. With a resigned sigh, I let myself sink deeper into the pool, the cold finally settling into something tolerable. I dunk my head under, running my fingers through my hair to rinse out the blood and grime. For the first time in what feels like days, I feel…almost normal.

Almost.

When I resurface, the wound on my hip tugs at my focus. My fingers drift to it, brushing lightly over the stitches. The area feels rough and uneven, the kind of jagged mess you’d expect from a panicked, last-ditch effort to save a life. But as I keep feeling around, something else catches my attention.

Somethingwrong.

I trace a faint circle on my skin, my fingers brushing over four distinct punctures spaced evenly around it. My breath catches, and a sharp tremor shoots through me, like lightning sparking from the wound straight to my heart. My stomach tightens, and an embarrassing heat coils low in my belly.

“What the hell?” I whisper, my pulse pounding.

This is not a gunshot wound.

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