The Alpha’s Professor Mate: A Werepriest But His Obsession

Caleb’s POV

I never thought grief could make the air feel so thick, so heavy that even breathing hurt. I stood there, frozen, as the last bit of soil was thrown over his casket. My mate. My confidante. My secret.

The pack didn't know. Not really. They saw him as my best friend, my confidante, my second-in-command. But he was more than that. He was the only person who knew me completely. He knew the weight of being young and an Alpha. He knew everything about me, including the way I hated pretending to be something I wasn't. And he loved me anyway.

And now he is gone.

No one really knew the truth. Not even the beta. To the rest of the world, he was just my closest friend, my second-in-command. Always beside me, loyal to the end. But behind closed doors, behind the masks we wore every day, we were much more than that.

He was my other half.

Rogues had attacked suddenly, and I watched it happen—watched him get torn open. I was frozen. Too shocked. Too scared. Maybe too late. My wolf had screamed to reach him, but my body didn’t move in time. I saw life leave his eyes before I could do anything.

Now the earth covered him.

My hands curled into fists. I tried to breathe, but the air felt like it was choking me. I felt like I was losing my mind. My chest tightened. My heart thumped too hard. I pressed a hand to my chest like it would help hold me together.

The funeral was packed. Everyone came. But it all felt fake. The speeches. The nods. The soft sobs of people who never really knew him. They didn’t know how he slept with one hand always on my chest, like he was afraid I'd disappear in the night. They didn’t know how we promised to run away one day. Somewhere no one would know we were mates.

Now, he's the one who ran.

Everyone started leaving, one by one. I didn't move. I couldn’t. I stared at the freshly dug grave like maybe, just maybe, if I stared hard enough, he’d climb out and say it was all a joke. That he was still here. That I wasn’t alone.

But he didn’t.

The sky looked like it was mourning with me. Heavy clouds, dark and full, hung low like they wanted to cry too. The scent of wet soil and death filled my nose. The others had all left. The pack members. The elders. Even the rogues who had been captured had been taken away. But I was still there, frozen.

My knees were soaked from kneeling on the wet grass, and my hands were shaking. Not from the cold, but from something deeper. Something I couldn’t explain. Pain. Loss. Guilt.

They had just buried him.

Luca.

My mate.

I was in deep thoughts that I couldn't even hear the footsteps behind me until a voice broke through the silence.

“He must have meant a lot to you,” he said.

The voice was soft, gentle. Not like the usual commands I got from my warriors or the fake politeness of the council.

I turned slightly and saw him—Padre Leonardo. The priest who had done the ceremony. Young, clean-shaven, soft brown curls, kind eyes. He looked out of place among wolves. Too calm. Too peaceful. Too... pure. He was tall, lean but strong. Dressed in black, simple but elegant. His voice was soft. Calm. And his eyes were the kind that made you feel like he already knew what was hurting inside you.

“He was my everything,” I said without thinking.

The priest nodded. He didn’t say sorry. He didn’t offer me any of those useless words people throw around when they don’t know what else to say. He just stood there with me.

“I’m Padre Leonardo Vito,” he said. “I officiated the burial.”

I gave a small nod. “Caleb.”

He already knew who I was, obviously. The future ruling Alpha of Lanville Pack. Everyone knew. But it felt right to introduce myself anyway.

We sat there in silence again. It was strange, but comforting. He didn’t ask me to leave. He didn’t rush me. Just stood there like a calm presence.

But then, something happened.

It was like a soft pull inside me. Like a gentle string being tugged. I felt it in my chest first. Then lower. A warmth spreading from my ribs to my stomach. I turned my head slowly, and he was already looking at me.

His eyes held mine for a second longer than they should have. My heartbeat jumped. Then he broke out the silence.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, even though I knew it was a lie.

He walked closer and crouched next to me. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He took off his coat and placed it gently over my shoulders without asking. I didn’t fight him. I didn’t even have the strength to say no. His scent hit me—warm, soft, something like rosemary and ashwood. It filled my nose, and for some reason, my wolf stirred.

I blinked fast and looked away.

No. This wasn’t right.

This was grief playing tricks on me. PTSD, that’s what it was. It had to be. My mate just died. My one and only. The one the Moon Goddess gave me. There was no way my wolf should be reacting to someone else. Especially not now.

He sat beside me, not saying anything. Just breathing. Just being there. And oddly enough, his silence was comforting. I didn’t want anyone else around, but somehow his presence didn’t feel too loud.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long pause. “I know this kind of pain never really leaves.”

I didn’t answer.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

My body stiffened.

My eyes flicked to his face, and I saw no judgment there. Just quiet understanding. I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say no. But I think he already knew.

“I wasn’t just praying for his soul today,” he whispered. “I was praying for you. So you recover from the grief.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. My throat was dry.

I stood slowly and offered a hand. “Let me buy you a drink, padre.”

That made him give a small, tired chuckle.

“I owe you,” I said, finally standing. “You didn’t have to stay back.”

“I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

I nodded. “Come to the packhouse. We’ll have a drink. Just... to say thanks.”

He nodded gently. “Alright.”

—

The packhouse was quiet when we got back. I told the guards to give us space, and they did. Everyone knew I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Padre Leonardo followed me to the private lounge. It was warm there, the fireplace burning low.

I poured us a drink—one of the stronger ones from the Alpha’s stash. I should’ve gone easy. But I didn’t care. I wanted the fire in my chest. I wanted the burning. Maybe it would kill the cold inside me.

He took the drink with a small nod and sipped. Then I winced.

“God,” he muttered. “That’s strong.”

I smirked and sipped mine too.

One glass turned into two. Two into four. Then I lost count.

We talked. Not deeply. Just little things. He told me how he wasn’t always a priest. He once trained to be a soldier. That shocked me. But I could see the strength in his arms now. The calm in his voice made sense. The discipline.

I told him a few things too. Not about Luca. But about my father. About how hard it was to live up to the Alpha title sometimes. He listened. No judgment. No pity. Just listened.

Somewhere between our sixth and seventh drink, I felt my body grow heavier.

He was laughing at something I said. A soft, warm laugh. Not loud. Not fake. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel seen. My wolf stirred again.

I looked at him.

And suddenly, everything shifted.

His face wasn’t just kind anymore—it was beautiful. His eyes had depth. His lips were pink and soft-looking. His neck, exposed under his loose collar, looked... tempting.

I blinked and looked away.

What the hell was I thinking?

He was a priest. A man of God. And I was broken. Grieving. My mate was barely on the ground. My mind was probably messed up.

But I couldn’t stop looking.

And he wasn’t looking away either.

Then he spoke, voice low. “Do you feel that?”

I swallowed. “What?”

“This pull.”

My chest tightened. “It’s nothing.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah... nothing. Just... maybe the alcohol.”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “The drink.”

But it didn’t feel like just the drink. He shifted closer. I didn’t move away. My breath caught. His hand brushed mine. My skin burned. He looked into my eyes and whispered, “I should go.”

“Maybe,” I said.

But neither of us moved. Then his lips touched mine. It was soft. Careful. Almost like he was asking permission. I didn’t stop him. I kissed him back.

I didn’t know what I was doing. My head was spinning. Maybe I was too drunk to think. Or maybe I just wanted to feel something—anything—besides pain.

His hands found my face, cupping it gently. Mine wrapped around his waist. His body was warm against mine. My wolf was pacing now, restless and confused.

I broke the kiss for a second to breathe. “Leo...”

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Just... let it be what it is.”

And then he kissed me again. Harder. Deeper.

I felt his fingers pulling at my shirt, tugging it loose. I let him. My hands roamed his back, tracing the edges of the cross under his shirt. He moaned into my mouth, and the sound sent shivers down my spine.

We stumbled back, falling onto the couch. Our bodies pressed together. His lips were on my neck now. My hands gripped his hips. I felt my jeans tighten, and I knew he could feel it too.

My head spun, my body burning, and then...

He started undressing. First, his collar came off. Then his shirt buttons came undone, one by one, his eyes never leaving mine. I stared at him, frozen again. But this time, it wasn’t grief holding me still.

It was a shock.

It was want.

It was confusion.

And he was right there, his shirt slipping off his shoulders.