Page 55 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

“Hey, Father,” I purr, extending my hand. “Care to dance?”

Reyes ducks his head and laughs, raking a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. His dark eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks back at me, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know if dancing is a good idea, Tilda.”

“Why not?” I ask, taking a step closer.

“Well,” he says, arching a brow, “if you trying to kill me wasn’t a good enough reason…”

I snort. “If I remember correctly, you also claimed me against my will. So, I think we’re even.”

His laughter rumbles low in his chest, and I feel it ripple through me. “Fair enough,” he concedes.

“Come on—it’s a wedding,” I say, holding out my hand. “You can’t give me one dance?”

The notes of Mateo’s guitar float through the night, warm and inviting. That pesky heat flares over my skin again, pooling at the site of Reyes’ bite. I thought it was only supposed to happen during the full moon, but apparently, my body missed that memo.

He studies me for a moment before exhaling, his large hand closing around mine. My pulse jumps as sensation sparks from the contact, crawling up my arm like a lick of flame.

“Fine,” he says. “Just this once.”

Reyes pulls me into his arms and leads me onto the grass, where other couples are already swaying to the music. Their faces blur in my periphery—I can only focus on him. His hand settles on the small of my back, warm and firm, while his other hand holds mine. He leads with a confidence that takes me off guard, his movements smooth and sure. His fingers graze just above the curve of my ass, bold and unapologetic.

“I didn’t know priests were allowed to dance,” I murmur, biting my lip to hide a smirk.

“Common misconception,” he chuckles, his voice a low rumble. “I blameFootloose.”

I snort. “Isn’t that movie, like…a hundred years old?”

“You’ve seen it, though,” he points out, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Yeah,” I admit. “Obviously.”

“Exactly,” he says. “And for the record, it’s the Baptists that don’t dance inFootloose—not Catholics. You know I had a whole life before seminary, right?”

“Can’t say I know much about you at all,” I say.

“Then I guess I’ll have to fix that.” He smiles, spinning me out to arm’s length before drawing me back into his embrace. The hem of my green dress flutters like water between us, and I can feel eyes on us—watching, judging.

A sworn enemy, wrapped in the arms of their Alpha Prime. But Reyes doesn’t seem to care. He’s fully focused on me, his gaze steady and unflinching.

The music shifts into a slower rhythm, and Reyes pulls me closer. His hand presses against my back, his warmth seeping into me. A bonfire crackles nearby, the golden light playing across his bronze skin. For a moment, the rest of the world fades. The weight of the night sky above us, the music in the air, the solid strength of his arms—it’s overwhelming. But in the quiet that slips into my mind, another thought takes shape.

Enid.

If I stay here too long, who will keep her safe? Who will make sure she has the insulin she needs, or tuck her in when the nights get too cold? Reyes may feel like a sanctuary for me, but Enid needs me more than I need him.

“Where’d you go?” he murmurs, his lips close to my ear.

I shudder at the sensation, his voice, his breath bringing me back to the present. “I was thinking about my sister,” I admit. “She needs me.”

“And that’s why I’m sending you home,” he says gently. “But tonight, just focus on this. On us.”

Us. The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I don’t know what’s changed between us in the past few days, but something has. Maybe we’ve both stopped fighting it. Maybe we’re just tired of pretending.

“You look beautiful,” he says after a pause, his gaze dipping briefly to my dress. “Peaches, I presume?”

“Salvage,” I reply. “She spruced it up, tailored it to fit. It covers that scar on my thigh.”

I wince, realizing what I’ve said.

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