Page 56 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

“Sorry—I don’t know why I even brought that up.”

“It’s okay,” Reyes says, his voice steady, grounding. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here to listen if you want to.”

His words are an invitation, not a demand. The music shifts again, a fiddle joining Mateo’s guitar, the melody threading through the night air. It’s hauntingly beautiful, a song that feels like it belongs to the stars and the shadows, and Reyes adjusts our movements to match its rhythm. We sway slowly now, his hand firm on my back, guiding me farther from the crowd.

The bonfire’s glow softens as we step into the deeper dark at the edges of the field. The only sounds are the music and the faint murmur of the pack behind us, distant and safe. It’s just us here.

“It’s from just after the Convergence,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the melody. “Heavenly Host forces tried to take Enid for a blessing.”

I pause, the memory clawing at me, sharp and vivid. The shouting. The gunfire. The way my hands shook as I held my weapon, aiming at something I thought was divine.

My fingers tremble now, and Reyes doesn’t miss it. His hand moves slightly on my back, a silent reassurance.

“I fought them off,” I continue, my words heavy with the weight of that night. “It’s how we ended up in Homestead. I left her there where I thought it was safe, while I went off to fight the good fight…or what I thought was the good fight.”

Reyes’ brow furrows, his dark eyes searching my face. His grip on my back tightens slightly, steadying me, pulling me back from the brink of that memory. “But I thought you supported the Heavenly Host,” he says, his voice low, cautious.

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound too loud in the stillness. “I’ve always just been trying to protect her,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. My voice cracks, betraying the rawness I usually keep buried. “God…I’m such a hypocrite.”

He shakes his head, his expression softening. “You’re not a hypocrite. In dire circumstances, we do what we must to survive.”

His words settle over me, healing something I didn’t even know was broken. I’ve spent so long carrying this weight—this guilt—alone that hearing someone else offer absolution feels foreign. My voice comes out brittle as I try to brush him off. “Are you going to tell me to say ten Hail Mary’s or something?”

“If you think that would help.”

A soft, unsteady laugh escapes me, more reflex than choice. It loosens something in my chest, just a little. “I don’t believe in all that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “Even if I’m the only one listening…it might do the trick.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath, letting the weight of the moment press against me. I lean into him, indulging in the heat of his body, the hard muscle of his chest. “I’m not sure if I can do this,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

His hand presses just a little more firmly against my back, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “That’s okay,” he says. “Just dance with me.”

The violin soars through the night, its melody weaving through the crowd. Above us, the stars burn impossibly bright, but I can’t bring myself to look at them. All I can see is him.

Reyes Garza.

The man who marked me. The man who kissed me. The man who somehow feels like both salvation and danger, a strange, inexplicable answer to a question I didn’t even know I was asking.

My voice drops to a whisper, trembling as the words leave my lips. “Will you hear my confession, Father?”

Reyes exhales softly, meeting my eyes. “Of course,” he murmurs, his tone as steady as the hands that hold me. “Let’s go somewhere private. I’ll listen as long as you need me to.”

The night seems to draw closer, the stars above burning brighter. And as he takes my hand, leading me away from the flickering bonfire and the murmurs of the pack, I realize fate has its hands in this.

Whatever happens next…it’s going to change everything.

We move out of the crowd, Reyes leading the way. At first, I really think this is just an excuse to have sex–but to my surprise, Reyes takes me back toward the chapel, empty now. The music is muffled here, the lively sounds of the party fading into the distance. Reyes leads me to the front of the chapel, where a curtain of flowers separates the pews from a small space behind the makeshift pulpit.

It’s like the whole world is holding its breath as I wonder where tonight is going to take us.

“I haven’t done this in years,” he says, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “So don’t expect miracles.”

There’s a teasing edge to his tone, but something about it feels…nervous. Vulnerable, maybe. I wonder if he’s drunk, but I think it’s just that red wine scent filling my lungs. He grabs a chair, pulling it up in front of the curtain with a dramatic flourish. “Have a seat, and I’ll hear your confession.”

I stare at him for a beat, the absurdity of it all catching up to me. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as I can be,” he says, disappearing behind the curtain. His hulking silhouette is faintly visible through the flowers, backlit by the soft glow of a camping lantern. “I told you I’d listen.”

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