8. Priest

8

PRIEST

P riest hadn’t given in to his urge to listen to Azriel and Oliver when they were speaking, as much as it killed him to not know what was so important. But he knew whatever Azriel had to say, it was for Oliver. He couldn’t be selfish. Not after everything.

So he paced, and he drank a little, and he paced some more. He did his best not to relive the moment when he finally got to taste Oliver. And of course, he failed at that because shutting that out only led him to the moment of tension between them before the Angel showed up.

The bastard.

He’d been beating himself up over being so weak, but he had been on the verge of giving in when the winged dickhead showed up. Priest could only hope that one day, karma would come and bite him on the ass. He’d like to see Azriel knocked down a peg or two from love. Actual love. The kind that made Demons weep.

He started pacing again when his phone buzzed, and he didn’t bother looking at it when he picked up. “What?”

“Excuse me,” Jeremiah said, voice low.

“I’m in a shit mood. Don’t start with me.”

There was a heavy silence full of warning, letting Priest know Jeremiah had even less patience than normal. “We’re pulling up now, and we need to see you and Oliver both.”

Priest’s spine went stiff. “Tell me you found something.”

“We found something. We found a few somethings. Including evidence that Oliver might be right about his friend.”

Priest sat down hard enough to make his jaw click. Oliver was right? He’d already been on the verge of believing him, but if Oliver really was having premonitions, it confirmed what he was so damn sure of: he wasn’t human. Not entirely. He was mostly mortal, but there was something inside him—in his essence —that Priest had only experienced feeding off some of the dancers at Azriel’s club.

It was more delicate though. And it was strong. There were only a few creatures with that kind of strength—the kind that grew when it was diluted instead of weakening.

“Priest,” Jeremiah barked.

“Yeah. Right. Um. Let yourselves in. I’ll go get Oliver.”

“Where is he?” Jeremiah demanded. In the background, a car door slammed. “You’re supposed to be watching him.”

“Step one, grab stick. Step two, remove from ass,” Priest told him. “He’s here. He’s just with Azriel right now.”

Jeremiah groaned. “I do not have the patience for that fucking Angel today.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s interested in staying. I’ve invited him to lend a hand on cases a couple of times, and he claims that helping others gives him hives.”

“Of course it does. We’re at the door now.”

Priest hung up, then slowly made his way back to Oliver and Azriel, freezing in the doorway when he saw how close they were. But there was no lust in the air. He parted his lips and inhaled deeply to be sure, but all he could taste was shock and wariness. And maybe a little fear.

It showed all over Oliver’s face. Priest hated it. He wanted to grab Oliver away from Azriel and wrap him tightly so nothing bad could ever touch him again. He felt an irrational hatred toward the Angel for disrupting what little peace Oliver had managed to find during his recovery.

And yes, he supposed there was a little jealousy too. Azriel and Oliver had always been close, and although it wasn’t in Priest’s nature to feel like this, he couldn’t help it. It was new. It was different. Alien to the very core of his being, and he didn’t like it at all.

“I’m sure you two aren’t done, but I wanted to let you know that Jeremiah and Knight are here. And they have news.” He hoped everything he was feeling wasn’t obvious in his tone.

Oliver leapt away from Azriel, and Priest breathed a little easier. “About Poe?”

He didn’t know what answer to give, because yes, it was about the missing human, but he wasn’t sure it was good news. He answered him anyway. “Yes, Oliver. About Poe.”

Azriel stretched his arms above his head and climbed to his feet slowly. He moved like a cat, something Priest had always liked until this moment. He closed the distance between them, and his cool palm touched Priest’s cheek. “Relax. He’s all yours,” he murmured so softly Priest doubted Oliver could hear it. The Angel pulled back, then winked at him before turning a smile on Oliver. “This is my cue to leave. But you know where to find me, little brother.”

Little brother? What?—

Azriel rarely used his abilities to teleport, but one second, he was there, and the next, he was gone. Exactly like Oliver had done. There was a loaded moment before Oliver touched his arm, and all of the tension fled Priest’s body.

“Come on,” he said, pulling away, “they’re waiting for us in the living room.”

Priest could feel Oliver’s confusion and his worry when he followed him down the hall and into the brightly lit room, but it was laced with concern. Priest didn’t blame him. Jeremiah was sitting on the sofa with his ankle hooked over his knee, and Knight was at the window, eyes closed as he basked in the light streaming in through the filtering glass. Like all Vampires, his skin was highly sensitive to sunlight, turning most into night dwellers. With their jobs, Knight didn’t always have a choice in going out during the day and often suffered the consequences.

The mood in the room was somber, and Priest’s heart began to kick up because the last thing he wanted to hear was bad news.

“Sorry to interrupt. Where’s Azriel?” Jeremiah asked.

Oliver took a seat on the larger sofa, and Priest followed, drawn to him like a magnet. He kept a cushion of space between them, but all he could think about was having a moment to pull the man into his arms.

“He’s gone,” Priest said.

Jeremiah scoffed, shaking his head. “One day, he’ll have to get off the damn sidelines.”

“Having an Angel on the team wouldn’t be the worst idea,” Knight murmured. He turned his back to the window but kept far from the group. He’d been tense lately—like he was in the early days when his trauma was overwhelming him. “Their tracking abilities put all our technology to shame. It would make things easier.”

Priest swallowed heavily and stared at Oliver. He was tense—more than he had been a moment ago. There was something different about him. Like his body was operating at a higher vibration. The longer they sat there, the more pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.

Oliver was different than most humans. He was more clever and quicker on his feet. He was still a fumbling, anxious mess, but when he stood in front of danger, he didn’t crumble. And then there was the incident in Priest’s workroom.

No human could do what he did.

There was not a chance in hell Oliver didn’t possess some kind of supernatural blood, and there was only one logical conclusion. After all, what would Azriel need to speak to him privately about? Why would he call him little brother?

Gods.

An Angel?

Priest couldn’t deal with this right now.

“… around the shop, and we picked up on a scent.” Jeremiah was staring at him—his face a mask of irritation, which apparently meant getting good dick on the regular wasn’t going to change who he was at his core. The thought was oddly comforting. “Are you with us, Claude?”

Priest’s eyes narrowed, and he felt them go hot and black. His vision changed, all the heat in the room more visible. “If you think I won’t tear your throat out?—”

“Claude?”

Priest’s Demon immediately fell back, and he turned his face to Oliver. “Please don’t ask.”

Oliver’s lip twitched. “I won’t. Clau?—”

“Don’t.”

Oliver held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

This was no time to be biting Oliver’s head off. Priest took a breath and turned his attention to Jeremiah. “I’m here. I’m listening. But multiple piles of shit are hitting multiple fans, okay? I’m trying to process.”

Jeremiah stared, then gave a stiff nod. His gaze flickered to Oliver, his brow raised, but when Priest gave a single, sharp shake of his head, he backed off. “We picked up a scent,” he repeated, and it took a second, but eventually, Oliver sucked in a breath.

“Poe’s?”

Knight walked closer to them, resting his hands on the back of a tall chair. “Yes. It was faint, but it was there. The police finally let us inside the shop, and there was no sign of his body. I was able to pick up a little blood, but not enough to indicate a human had died.”

Oliver swallowed roughly. “I knew it.”

“We followed the scent down the alley, and there was a shoe—a black-and-white sneaker. The smell of blood was strong enough for me to tell it belonged to the same human in the shop. But again, no indication the human had died there. The scent simply… vanished.” There was a tightness in his voice that Priest recognized.

This was killing Knight inside. They couldn’t let this go on for much longer.

“Okay, so where do we start?” Oliver asked, jumping to his feet. “There’s probably no point in me going back to the bookstore. But we can start with the scent, right? I mean, we need to contact Poe’s family first—see if they’ve gotten some kind of ransom call? And you have other teams, don’t you? Bravo Team, Charlie Team…”

“Pump the brakes,” Jeremiah said, putting up a hand. Oliver backed away from him, but he didn’t stop pacing. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“How?” Oliver’s eyes blazed. “Poe’s been out there alive, just like I said, for how long now? While we’re just sitting on our asses! The gods only know what they’re doing to him. It could be torture. It could be?—”

“Control your human,” Knight said, his voice a low rumble, fangs dropping.

Priest was on his feet, pulling Oliver close. “Oliver, I need you to stop.”

He had no idea if Oliver’s not-quite-human side made him aware that the situation was on the verge of getting dangerous or if he just had good natural instincts, but his jaw snapped shut. His gaze flickered from Priest to Knight to Jeremiah before he stepped out of Priest’s hold.

“I’m not going to sit here while my friend is in danger.”

“Yes, you are,” Priest said.

Oliver’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“I’m fucking a lot of things. I’m an Incubus,” Priest quipped.

“I’m not joking!”

“Neither am I,” Priest said, though he was lying. Since Oliver, he hadn’t fucked anyone else. But it was the only thing he could think of to try and diffuse the situation because it was getting out of hand. “This is what we do, darling. This is our job. And we are the best at it. We don’t know Poe is alive?—”

“Are you still on that?” Oliver looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. “He’s alive, and the fact that you don’t believe me goes to show exactly what you think of me. And since I’m not a prisoner here, I’m out. I’m going to find him myself.”

“Alone?” Priest asked, raising a mocking brow.

Oliver spun and met his gaze. “No. I have the Angel you all said would be helpful on my side. He’ll help me. He’ll give me anything I ask.”

He turned and started away, and that was when Priest snapped.

It was jealousy. It was possession. It was fear because whatever Oliver was, he was still mostly human. He was strong, but he was fragile. He was mortal. He could die too easily, and Priest had seen what could happen to supernaturals with the right spells and the right power. The very idea of Oliver suffering made him want to rip his human face off and raze the city with his claws.

He didn’t do that, of course. Instead, he used his speed and strength to stop Oliver from taking another step. His hands dug into Oliver’s shoulders, and Oliver met his gaze.

His eyes flashed bright blue. Something was emanating off him, coming at Priest in waves. Dangerous. Tantalizing. It made him feel like he’d been starved for a thousand years, and Oliver was his first taste of food.

Priest’s eyes went black again. He was done fighting. He was done with Oliver resisting. He almost never used his thrall, but he called on it now for the first time in years. His voice rumbled sweetly in the back of his throat. Tendrils of his power reached out and caressed Oliver’s skin.

“Enough of this,” he murmured. Oliver swallowed thickly. “Relax. Let it go. Head to my bedroom and wait for me.”

There was a long pause… and then Oliver opened his mouth and laughed in his face. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

And then Jeremiah sneezed loudly—a full-on dad sneeze that rocked the room.

The tension immediately evaporated. Oliver sagged like he was exhausted, and Priest caught him before his knees buckled.

“Sorry,” Jeremiah said, sniffing and wiping his nose. “Angels always make me sneeze. I thought you said Azriel was gone.”

Priest locked eyes with Oliver. “He is.”

Oliver looked guilty, swallowing heavily. “Priest…”

“Go up to my room. We’re going to talk about this once the guys and I figure out our next steps.”

“But—”

“No,” Priest growled, and he was hit with a sudden wave of lust from Oliver. It took everything in him to control it. “Upstairs. Now. I’m done with this argument.”

Oliver looked like he wanted to keep going, but after a beat, he nodded and stepped back. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean I’m backing down. Poe saved me. He is my family. I am not going to sit by while you all try to decide whether or not he’s worth going after.”

“That’s not what’s happening. But we’ve been through this before,” Knight said, his voice carefully measured. “Firsthand. So please, trust us. Whatever choices we make, they’ll be in everyone’s best interest.”

Oliver stood fast for another moment, then finally turned and left the room. Priest followed his aura as long as he was able, and when he was sure Oliver wasn’t planning an escape attempt, he turned back to his brothers.

“I need to handle this.”

“Clearly,” Jeremiah said flatly. “And when you’re done, you’re going to tell us what the fuck you’re hiding.”

Priest felt his face heat, but he didn’t give in. “It’s not important right now.”

Knight barked a laugh. “You tried to put him in your thrall, and he laughed in your face. You’re telling us that’s not important?”

Jeremiah was staring at him curiously. “Do you love him?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Priest started, but Jeremiah moved faster than he was ready for, and suddenly, he was backed into the wall.

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

Grabbing his face, Jeremiah pulled at his cheeks until his lower eyelids sagged. He stared into his eyes for so long Priest wanted to throw him out the window. And then he let go. “We’re going to talk about this later. Right now, you need to take care of your hunger.”

Priest realized he was right. His claws were still out, and his eyes were black. He was starving for the man upstairs. “You should probably put some distance between yourselves and this house for a little while.”

“We have shit to do anyway.” Jeremiah gave his cheek a soft pat, then jerked his head at Knight. Priest felt their gazes linger on him as they left, and it was only when they were no longer under his roof that he turned and headed for Oliver.

And he wasn’t going to stop until he had him.