Page 78 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

I raise my brows. “Are you saying I can tell you what to do?”

“I think so,” he says. “It must have something to do with the mating bond…a kind of obedience to each other before all else.”

“That’s…” I pause. “You’re trusting me with a lot. If I wasn’t on your side, I could use this.”

He nods, then takes my hand.

“But you are on my side,” he says. He puts his hand on his chest, taking my hand with it. It’s like our pulses fall into rhythm when he touches me, skin to skin. “I can feel it…here.”

I inhale sharply.

“Okay,” I say. “No more secrets. And if we’re doing this—if we’re committing to this—there’s something you should know.”

“I’m listening,” he says, turning on his priest voice.

I kind of hate it at the same time that I love it. It doesn’t make me want to talk to him, just get him naked, which is counter to what I’m trying to do.

But this has to be said. It’s too big to ignore, and he deserves to know.

“If we’re going to stay together, you should know that I…” My throat tightens, and I stop, closing my eyes. It feels like there’s a weight on my chest, pressing down, making the words impossible to push out. When I finally open my eyes again, I stare at the floor, unable to look at him. My voice is barely above a whisper. “I can’t have kids, Reyes.”

The silence that follows is deafening. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even shift beside me. His hand stays firmly wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing small circles against my skin, grounding me even though my heart is pounding in my ears.

I can’t take the silence. I glance up at him, chewing anxiously on my lip. His face is unreadable, his brows slightly furrowed, his dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that makes me feel both seen and completely exposed.

“Is that okay?” I ask, my voice trembling.

His grip on my hand tightens slightly, and he lets out a breath, his shoulders sinking as if he’s been holding something in. “Tilda,” he says softly, his voice steady and deliberate, “of course it’s okay.”

Relief flutters through me, but his next words catch me completely off guard.

“I never even thought I would have children,” he admits, his gaze dropping to where our hands are joined. “Not when I was keeping to my vows. I had my congregation, and then I had the pack. There was never time to think about kids of my own when I already had so many people depending on me. I told myself it was enough. I think I even believed it.”

He looks back up at me, and there’s something raw in his expression now—something that makes my chest ache. “But when I met you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “I realized I’d never let myself want something for me. Not really. And maybe that’s why it took me so long to stop fighting this. Fighting you. Because you’re the first thing I’ve let myself want in…God, Tilda, in years.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I can feel my heart pounding harder against my ribs, but he’s not done.

“But this?” he says, shaking his head. “This isn’t a dealbreaker. You aren’t some kind of vessel, not some thing to facilitate the creation of something else. You’re Tilda. And that’s more than enough for me. You’re perfect as you are.”

Damn it, he’s going to make me cry again. I feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I can’t stop the way my chest tightens. His words hit me squarely in a place I’ve tried to bury—this deep, unspoken fear that I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough.

Before the tears can fall, I fling my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest. His arms come up instantly, wrapping around me and pulling me to straddle him, his hands sliding across my back in those comforting, steady circles that seem to quiet everything else. I breathe him in—red wine and incense, warmth and safety—and let myself relax against him.

And God…I need to taste him.

I kiss his neck, gently at first…then harder. I find my mark on him, running my tongue across the grooves where my teeth bit down, along the punctures that are already healing.

His hands go lower, down to cup my ass. I breathe him in, taking a shuddering gasp as his fingers find the hem of my dress and slide it up my thighs. The touch is still comforting, but hard now, a suggestion of something more pushing in at the edges.

“I think I’m ready for you to fuck me now,” I whisper against his neck.

“Good,” Reyes growls.

He hooks his fingers in the waist of my underwear and slides them down my thighs, tossing them across the room. As far as I know, my panties from last night are tucked somewhere in the room, maybe still in the back pocket of yesterday’s jeans, and it makes me feel dirty and desirable.

I thrust my hips up toward Reyes as I lay back on the sheets, smelling our mingled scents all over the bed from last night. It makes me wanton with need, arching my back and clawing at his shoulders as he lowers his mouth to my core.

I really appreciate how much he likes going down on me, but my inner walls are clenching painfully as he runs his nose over my inner thighs, which are already covered in wetness. His tongue flicks out to taste me as he goes, his breath going ragged.

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