Obsession: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (The Mate Games #1)(37)

“Contrary to what you might believe, my world doesn’t revolve around you, Miss Fallon. I teach theology and an upper-level rituals and relics class, neither of which you’re ready to attend.”

“Relics. How fitting.”

He glared at me. So I decided to keep on going with my gentle ribbing.

“Speaking of relics, how does a vampire become a priest?”

“He doesn’t. A priest being turned into a vampire, however, is a different story.”

So, he was a made vampire, not born like Noah. “I’m all ears. It sounds like a story worth telling.”

He gave me a look tinged with exasperation, one I was intimately familiar with after all our sessions. “Oh, I’m sure it does. Religion. Politics. A man of God being denied the life he swore himself to? It practically writes itself, doesn’t it?” He gave a dramatic shudder, making me laugh. Who knew the priest had a sense of humor? Self-deprecating though it was. “There’s not much to tell. A vampire wanted me. I declined. She didn’t like that very much. Thought she could sway me once I was turned. She couldn’t. The end.”

“She sounds like a real bitch. Consent is way sexier than coercion.”

“She is.”

Something twisted inside me. She was still alive. That meant one day, Caleb could get his vengeance, because from the haunted look in his eyes, I knew there was more to that story than he was sharing.

“So you still live life as a priest even though you can’t be one anymore? Isn’t that a special kind of torture?”

“Technically, I stopped being a priest the day my heart ceased beating and I woke without a soul. Some habits . . .” He sighed, looking uncomfortable. “There’s solace in habits. More in pain. Perhaps it is my destiny to be tortured. For what punishments of God are not gifts?”

“We’ve gone this long without you spouting scripture at me. Let’s keep it that way.”

His lips twitched, and the sight of his amusement made my stomach flutter.

“What would you like me to spout at you, then?”

Was he . . . flirting? On the heels of that thought came another. One I was desperate to know the answer to.

“Are you still . . . you know . . . celibate?” My cheeks burned from the deeply personal question I had dared to ask, but I had to know.

He turned slowly to look at me, his expression unreadable, and I found myself getting lost in eyes so blue they appeared black in the darkness.

Before he could answer—assuming he ever intended to—three wolves sprang from the trees on our left. I recognized Kingston’s scent instantly, the pull of my wolf to his strong. He stopped and stared at us, eyes glowing, intensely focused on me, as though asking me to shed my human form and join them as they ran.

“Do you want to join them?” Caleb’s voice was low and measured. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to say yes or no.

I shook my head, and Kingston must’ve seen it as rejection because he let out a low growl. “No. Even if I wanted to, I still can’t shift.”

“Have you made any progress with your wolf?”

“I have, a little. Kingston did something when we were paired during Sanderson’s class. He unlocked the cage my wolf was in, but she still can’t get out.”

Caleb pressed his lips together, giving me a shrewd look before turning his attention on Kingston, who was still staring in our direction. “Perhaps the two of you should spend more time together? It sounds like being around a dominant wolf is good practice for you.”

I glanced at Kingston and then back at Caleb. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he was right. “Set it up.”

Caleb’s hands balled into tight fists, as though something about me being with Kingston bothered him. But he’d been the one to suggest it. Men were so complicated. Kingston gave a little huff before bounding away in the direction of the rest of his pack, leaving me to walk back to my dorm with a former priest who may or may not be celibate. Either way, Father Caleb Gallagher definitely gave more sinner vibes than saint every time I saw him.





Chapter

Twenty





SUNDAY





“Hmm . . . I’m not sure silver is your color,” Moira mused, staring at my hair like it was some kind of science project.

“I told you,” I said with a laugh.

She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe if we go with something a little more unconventional.”

“More unconventional than silver? Go nuts, but I’m drawing the line at shaving it off, okay? On you, it’s sexy as hell. On me? Not so much.”

Moira smirked, and I already knew her well enough to know that’s exactly what she’d been planning. But since she’d been sporting a series of pixie cuts with various designs shaved into them for the past couple of days, it hadn’t been much of a mental leap.

“Don’t you want to look all badass for your date with the priest? I could give you a crucifix? Or . . . how ‘bout we really make him go wild and I give you the mark of the beast? I think you’d look like hot shit with a 666 along the back of your head. It could be like your version of a tramp stamp. Something for him to stare at while your head is bowed in supplication. And then he could . . . exorcise your demons.”