The Werenun’s Dirty Professor

Reina’s POV

They told me college life would be different. But no one told me the difference would start with me having to strip down in front of strangers.

It was my first day at the University of California, Berkeley. I had left the convent only a week ago, carrying the weight of my vows, the strength of my faith, and the quiet hum of my wolf under strict control. Being a werenun wasn’t a title taken lightly in our world; it was a life of strict discipline, spiritual dedication, and denial of all earthly pleasures. Including the mate bond.

The campus was buzzing with excitement and noise. Freshmen moved about in groups, taking selfies, laughing loudly, dragging luggage across the sidewalks. I tried to ignore it all, clutching my bag tighter and keeping my eyes low. My long skirt brushed against my ankles as I walked, my white blouse neatly buttoned to the neck. I felt like a candle in a sea of fireworks.

Then came the unexpected announcement: mandatory physical and medical tests.

I blinked in confusion. The woman who handed me the form smiled and said, “All freshmen must take the test before resuming classes. It’s standard procedure. You can’t continue if you don’t complete it.”

It sounded harmless until I stepped into the wide white hall where it was being conducted.

Dozens of students were already there, lined up in their underwear, waiting their turn with no shame or discomfort. Girls giggled, boys flexed. Everyone was acting like it was normal.

My breath caught in my throat. I took a step back.

I couldn’t do this.

Not because I was shy or ashamed of my body, but because I had taken vows. Sacred ones. I had given up all that. I belonged to something higher. I belonged to the covenant and I was a werenun.

A nurse approached me. “You have to change into this,” she said, holding out a gown. “Your vitals, reflexes, and general scan will be done. You can’t proceed to register for classes unless this is completed.”

“I can’t undress in front of strangers,” I said firmly.

She blinked, surprised. “Why not?”

“I’m a nun.”

She frowned. “A what?”

Before I could explain, a deep voice cut through the room.

“She means she’s part of the convent, and she's a nun.”

I turned sharply.

A man stood near the exit. He had spiky black hair, a tough jawline, and eyes that looked like they had seen too much of the world. Cold. Sharp. Judging. He wore an official tag. 

Professor Julian.

I didn’t know his name yet, but something about him already made me feel… watched.

“And apparently,” he added with a smirk, “She believes being a nun exempts her from basic campus rules.”

“She has to take the test,” the nurse said, stepping aside for him.

“I won’t,” I said, louder this time.

His eyes locked with mine.

He walked closer, arms crossed. “This is a university. Not a convent. You don’t get special treatment because of your beliefs.”

“I’m not sick,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m healthy. My mind and body belong to God and the moon goddess.”

He scoffed. “Your body is made of bones and blood like everyone else’s. Belief doesn’t excuse biology.”

Something snapped inside me. “Why does it bother you so much that I believe in something greater?”

“Because belief is the enemy of truth,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You close your mind to facts and call it faith.”

I wanted to slap him.

But I didn’t. I clenched my fists and stood tall. “Then expel me.”

He stared at me for a long second. Then he turned to the nurse and said, “Clear her. Let her go.”

The nurse looked surprised, but she didn’t argue. She scribbled something on my form and waved me off.

I left the hall, heart racing, cheeks burning but with a strange feeling within me towards him. I never wanted to meet him again. 

When I entered the classroom that afternoon, I felt like fate was mocking me.

There he was.

The rude professor from earlier.

Goshhhhh! 

Standing in front of the class, writing “Philosophy 101” on the board.

“My name is Professor Julian,” he said, turning to us. “This course will challenge your beliefs, destroy your comfort zones, and hopefully make you think.”

I slumped in my seat, biting my tongue. His eyes hit on me again. I was his target.

From the very first lesson, it was clear he enjoyed attacking faith. He spoke of how the moon goddess was a myth. How religion was used to control minds. How logic was the only truth.

Each sentence felt like a blade to my chest.

I raised my hand, heart thumping.

“Yes?” he said, eyes already ready for battle.

“Believing in something beyond logic doesn’t mean someone is blind. Faith is a form of seeing,” I said calmly.

He laughed. “No. Faith is closing your eyes and pretending you’re not in the dark.”

I stormed out.

I didn’t even wait for the class to end. I couldn’t sit there and listen to him speak like that. I walked blindly across the campus, trying to steady my breath. The sun had started to dip, casting golden light across the grounds. My feet carried me to the only place I thought would give me peace,the garden.

It was quiet. Beautiful.

Roses, lilies, daffodils. All blooming in careful rows. A small stone bench sat beneath a wide oak tree, and I sat down, letting my bag drop beside me.

I closed my eyes.

I began to pray. Silently, like I always did. Words to mother Mary filled my thoughts. I asked for strength, for calm, for guidance. I asked for help understanding this strange new life I was walking into.

Then

It hit me.

A scent.

No, the scent.

My heart stopped.

I opened my eyes, and the world spun. My wolf inside me howled a sound I hadn’t heard in years. Not since I took my final vows.

But this wasn’t just any scent.

It was the scent of a mate.

“No,” I whispered, eyes wide.

This couldn’t be happening. I was a werenun. We weren’t supposed to receive mates.

But the scent was real.

And then, from the other side of the garden, he appeared.

Julian.

Professor Julian, the atheist is my mate?

I stood up so fast I nearly tripped over my skirt. “Are you stalking me?” I shouted, panic creeping into my voice.

He looked amused.

“No,” he said smoothly. “You wandered into my garden.”

“Your…?”

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. “This garden. I planted it. Every flower. Every vine. It’s part of the professors’ quarters. You’ve wandered too far from the student blocks.”

My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

I couldn’t think.

I couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t just the scent. It was him. The pull. The connection. The way my wolf purred inside me like she wanted to crawl to his feet.

I hated him.

I hated how calm he looked. How sure of himself. How unaware he seemed of what this bond meant to me and what it threatened.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said quietly.

“I could say the same,” he replied, his voice low.

The wind blew gently, carrying his scent toward me again. I swallowed hard, backing away.

This couldn’t be real.

This couldn’t be my fate.

Not with him. Not with an atheist professor who believed that religion didn’t even exist. But the bond didn’t lie. My wolf knew.

And worst of all—

I think his wolf knew too with the way he was looking at me.