Reluctant Saint Novels & Stories

"That statue belongs to the only person who has helped us all these years. A mysterious stranger who has been providing for us, keeping us alive, comforting us while our Alpha was off doing who-knows-what!" A murmur of agreement rises, voices overlapping. "That stranger granted our wishes like a true leader should!" "He’s an angel sent by the Goddess!" "He gave us food when we were starving!" "He kept our homes warm through the brutal winters!" The old man straightens, his voice ringing with finality. “We don’t want Alpha Elijah anymore. We’ve already decided—we want the mysterious man as our Alpha. We named him… Alpha Santa!” I blink. I stare. I try to hold it in.

My gown trails behind me, whispering against the marble floor, but my legs feel heavy like they don’t belong to me. I keep my chin up. If I falter now, I’ll never recover. When we reach the altar, Alonso extends his hand. His touch is warm unexpectedly so. For a moment, I falter, staring up at him. There’s no trace of warmth in his expression, just the same distant mask he’s worn since the day we met. But beneath that… there’s something else. A flicker of hesitation? It’s gone before I can name it. The officiant begins speaking, but his words barely register. My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out everything else. I only catch fragments love, honor, duty.

In a serious tone, Seth inquired. Don Fabio burst out laughing and shook his head in response to Seth's final warning. “Rimpiangere? (Regret?)” And he looked out over the vast vineyard. “Ho il sostegno della famiglia Luciano. Non ho paura di andare in guerra. (I have the support of the Luciano family. I am not afraid of going to war),” he said confidently. Seth grinned. “Il rimpianto è la cosa più dolorosa che puoi affrontare nella vita. (Regret is the most painful thing you can go through in life.)”

She let the betrayal coat her like ash. And then she got up. Washed her face. Put on his favorite sundress. And went to church. Because it was Thursday. Because the quarterly audit was in six days. Because if she was going to burn the whole damn thing down, she needed to know what kind of kindling it was made of first. The sanctuary still smelled like guilt. Even after the candles were snuffed out and the choir robes were pressed and packed away, it lingered—in the carpet, in the wood, in her throat. The smell of devotion gone sour. Of secrets soaked into the upholstery. Of her own obedience rotting in real time.

I highly prioritized aesthetic attraction in a partner, and just like Xavier, I was obsessed with the medical profession. We had frequently met at various award ceremonies around the country due to our equally outstanding abilities, so we naturally started seeing each other. It had been eight years since then, and we had treated each other with mutual respect throughout all those years. The only thing that troubled us was that we had continuously failed to conceive a child. As this thought ran through my mind, I couldn't resist punching and kicking at Xavier. I wanted to cry, but as a soul, I didn't have the ability to produce tears.

I sat across from him, my stomach churning with a mixture of dread and anticipation. He looked impossibly handsome, his dark gray eyes holding an intensity that made my breath catch. I tried my best to appear confident, but my nerves were on edge. "Look, Mr. Dela Lucchese, I don't understand why you refused to help 'Paisley Fashion House.' Was it my presentation, or my lateness? If so, I apologize. And that night, I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing. I'm sorry," I blurted out, the words spilling from my lips in a rush.

Be it his figure larger than most, or just the aura he gave off. 'Big dick energy', for people like Rhett that was the energy they gave off. Major big dick energy. Even when they were asking something from you it was almost as if every part of him was daring you to say no. And Harmony was too much of a little coward to say no. Besides how intimidating Rhett was, he was also insanely hot. The combination was far too deadly! And Harmony was incredibly weak. "I guess I have to take the coward's way out," She breathed out.

The bishop asked. “ Your grace, I am sorry for failing you, but I think Mr Dante is a much more lost sheep than I thought, he doesn’t belong with us, he belongs to the hospital, to the jail but away from here, this , I refuse to take his confessions,” the young priest said calmly yet boldly. As usual, the bishop stared at him silently, “ I understand,” he replied, then the young gentleman left, for the rest of the days, more priests returned while refusing to take his confessions, they all swore not to return inside the confessional booth until the last one of them.

I wasn't some errand boy he could order around, and I'll be damned if I responded like a mutt to that tone. When Saint listened and didn't hear shit from me, he slowly lifted those dead eyes of his to size me up. I fucking held that stare. You can call it repelling aura, but, Saint and I can never ever tolerate each other, no matter what. He feeds on intimidation, and I hate being intimidated... And Saint didn't intimidate me. He might freeze a room with a glance, might make Betas piss their pants just by looking at them, but I'm not like the rest of them.

It is the weight of another choice I did not make. Saint waits by the door, his presence filling the room the way it always does. He has changed into dark clothes, his weapon strapped under his jacket. He looks like the man everyone whispers about, the man people fear. Not the man who brushes his hand against mine when we pass in the kitchen, not the man whose voice softens when he murmurs my name at night. This is Saint Lachlan, the warlord, the son of Vincent, and he has decided I will move like another pawn in his game. “Ready?” he asks, his tone even, unreadable.