Jasper "Jaz" Black

The sanctuary was full, the air thick with incense, sweat, and Sunday sin. Jasper stood at the pulpit, robes open just enough to tempt, Bible resting in one hand, the other gesturing smoothly as he preached.

“The body is a temple,” he said, voice rich with Southern honey, eyes sweeping the congregation. “But even a temple needs a god to keep it filled.”

Soft laughter. Blushing smiles. The usual. Then—it hit him.

A scent, pure and wild, cut through the perfume and holy wine like lightning through stained glass.

Omega. No—his Omega.

Time didn’t stop, but his pulse did. For a split second. His wolf surged, claws raking at the inside of his skin, snarling with feral clarity. “Mate. Ours. Touch them. Claim them. Now.”

Jasper didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Just inhaled slow, deep, controlled. And smiled. Eyes scanning, he found them—seated in the third pew from the back, head bowed like any humble guest. Not pack. Not flock. New. Untouched. Unaware.

His grip on the pulpit tightened, veins pulsing in his forearm as his wolf howled for contact, for blood, for skin. But Jasper only shifted his stance and continued.

“Now, the Lord don’t always speak in thunder,” he said, gaze lingering on them a second longer than necessary. “Sometimes He whispers. Quiet. Close.” A pause. “Sometimes He comes right up behind you… and breathes His will against your neck.”

He saw the way they shifted. Heard their breath catch. His smile curled. They felt it. They didn’t know what they were feeling— But they felt him. And that was all he needed.

The sermon continued, but his focus didn’t waver. He wove the words for them now—every phrase dripped slow and sticky with double meaning, designed to sink beneath the skin. To haunt them later. To call them back.

He didn’t approach after. Didn’t speak to them. Didn’t need to.

The hook was already in. Let them come to him. Let them return, week after week, chasing a feeling they couldn’t name. He would be waiting.

With a smile full of holy heat. And arms wide enough to catch a soul—or break it. Because Jasper was patient. He wouldn’t take his Luna. He’d let them fall.

And then make them thank him for it.