Page 40 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

The den has a strange mix of the old world and whatever this new one is. For all the talk of wolves and alphas, it’s not as feral as I imagined. They’ve managed to make a life here—something structured, almost civilized. Even now, the faint smell of coffee wafts through the corridor, probably from the common area. Someone’s always brewing a pot in the mornings, rationing beans like they’re liquid gold. It’s one of the little comforts they cling to, one of the things that makes this place feel like a home.

I turn the corner, thinking about how these people have built all this while I’ve spent years just surviving. It’s unsettling, how easy it is to picture myself fitting in here, settling into this routine. I tell myself it’s just the heat and the smell of coffee getting to me, clouding my judgment.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The voice stops me cold.

Frankie is standing at the far end of the corridor, her blonde hair messy like she crawled out of bed just to ruin my morning. The girl looks like she was someone who was born to scowl–and I would know, given I’m that same type. Her arms are crossed, dark eyes locked on me like a bug she’s deciding whether or not to squash.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I say, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Didn’t want to wake Peaches.”

“You’re not supposed to roam the den without an escort,” she says, stepping closer.

“I mean,you’rehere,” I say before I can stop myself.

Her growl is low and warning. She takes a deliberate step into my space. “Don’t get feisty with me,” she snaps. “I don’t trust people like you.”

“I’m not a crusader anymore,” I tell her. “I swear, I’m just trying to help your pack with their farm. You need to get the hell off my case.”

I square up with her, trying to use my height to intimidate her…but she’s tall, too, and an alpha. I can feel the lycan hierarchy putting force on me, pushing me down–

“Frankie!”

Reyes’ voice is a relief, snapping the tension between Frankie and I. We both look toward him, and I find him stepping out of the shadows, amber eyes brighter than usual.

“Leave her alone,” he growls.

“She—”

“Leave it,” Reyes repeats, his voice sharper now. The tension in his jaw, the set of his shoulders—it’s enough to make even Frankie think better of challenging him. She backs off with a hiss, her eyes darting between us before she retreats down the hall.

I glance up at him, trying to shake the tension out of my shoulders, but my heart’s still pounding. There’s something about him—his size, his certainty, the way he can bring Frankie to heel with a single look—that leaves me feeling unsteady.

Swoony, even.

“I was actually just trying to go to the bathroom,” I mutter.

“Figured,” he says, his lips twitching in amusement. “Go ahead.”

“Wow, thank you,” I say, rolling my eyes, and he snorts at the sarcasm in my voice.

“I’ll stay here and make sure she doesn’t come back,” he says.

I make it quick, relieving myself and washing my hands before re-joining him in the corridor. Reyes is standing and looking down at a little piece of paper when I come back out, muttering to himself.

“What’s that?” I ask, nodding at the paper.

“My homily for the morning meeting,” he says, folding it and tucking it into his pocket.

“Morning meeting?”

“It’s what we call church,” he says. “Not everyone’s comfortable calling it that. But it’s a way to share news, talk about the week, make plans.”

“Okay,” I say. “I didn’t even know y’all did that here.”

Reyes chuckles. “I may be the Prime, but I’m still a priest. And there’s a lot more a priest can do than talk about God.”

“I get that,” I say. “We just…we stopped holding services a long time ago in Homestead.”

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