Page 21 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

Panic overtakes curiosity, and I scramble backward, pushing myself out of the water with a clumsy splash. My heart races as I stare down at my side, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. The stitched-up gash is still there, but just above it, the red circle and those deep purple punctures stand out starkly against my skin.

It’s a bite mark.

Clear as day.

“Oh my God,” I breathe, every memory of the attack crashing back at once—the wolf’s hot breath on my skin, its muzzle brushing my hip. My hands shake as I turn my gaze to Peaches.

She’s watching me, her expression a mix of guilt and hesitation. Her mouth opens, probably to start rambling about how nice everyone is again, but I cut her off, pointing furiously at the mark.

“This,” I say, my voice sharp and rising. “Reyes did this, didn’t he?”

Peaches bites her lip, her brown eyes glinting with something I can’t place—sympathy, maybe? Regret?

She nods, barely.

“You’d be dead without it,” she whispers.

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My heart pounds, anger and confusion bubbling to the surface.

“I didn’t ask for it!” I snap, the weight of the truth settling hard in my chest. “I didn’t agree to this. I don’t even know what the hellthisis!”

Peaches flinches but doesn’t look away. She’s moving toward the edge of the pool now, climbing out–and I realize she thinks she’ll have to stop me from bolting.

“You were dying,” she says, her voice almost pleading. “You had minutes, maybe less. The bite…it’s the only thing that could’ve saved you.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” My voice cracks, the anger warring with confusion and a sickening sense of helplessness. “I don’t understand. What does this mean? What did he do to me?”

Peaches exhales shakily, running a hand through her damp hair. “I think you should talk to Reyes,” she says, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. “He’ll explain it better than I can.”

She moves toward her clothes, avoiding my eyes, and something inside me twists painfully.

“Peaches,” I say, my voice quieter now, almost desperate. “Will you help me? Help me escape?”

She freezes, her back to me, and for a moment, I think she’s going to say yes.

But when she turns, her face is drawn tight with guilt.

“I can’t,” she says. “Even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?” I demand, stepping toward her, my fists clenched at my sides.

Her eyes meet mine, steady and serious. “Because now that he’s marked you, he’ll always know where you are. No matter where you run, he’ll find you.”

7

REYES

The righteous anger I knew was coming is already here.

It hasn’t even been a full day since I bit her, and I can feel her fury building, sharp and relentless, like tiny needles pressing into my skin. I’d hoped giving her time to bathe would help her settle, maybe distract her—but of course, she noticed the bite.

Of course, she’s pissed.

The connection between us makes it impossible to ignore her rage. It skates down my spine, hits my chest, and sits there like a stone, heavy and suffocating. I drop my pen, push the homily aside, and lean back in my chair. No point pretending I can focus.

Tilda’s coming, and she’s bringing the storm with her.

I hear it first—her footsteps echoing down the corridor, quick and angry. Then her voice cuts through, sharp as a whip, arguing with Peaches, who’s doing her best to keep the peace.

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