Priest (Trident Agency #2)

7. Oliver

7

OLIVER

H is Demon was avoiding him.

And Oliver was tired of it.

He’d been in a bad mood all day after waking up alone. He was still sleeping more than normal, but he was surprised at how good he’d felt—especially considering all of the horror stories he’d heard about humans being fed on by Incubi and being left for dead.

Deciding to forgive being left alone in bed, he’d gone to search for Priest… and come up empty. He’d eaten breakfast by himself. And then lunch. It was nearly dinnertime before he found where Priest had been hiding all day.

“What is this place?” He was more than a little pleased at the way the Demon jumped and whirled around at his question.

“Oh. Uh. Hi.” Shoulders hunched a bit, Priest glanced around the strange and amazing room before carefully setting a pot holding a spiky plant with bulbous purple flowers on the waist-high table he was standing behind. “This is my library. And workshop.”

Oliver ran his eyes over the floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books and glass bottles with mysterious liquids and puzzle boxes —one of which was emitting a soft pink smoke. “Workshop, huh?”

Priest shrugged. “Not, like, officially. I just enjoy tinkering with things.”

Tinkering with things .

None of Oliver’s books had ever talked about a Demon like Priest. He would have been annoyed normally—he hated not knowing what to expect or feeling out of his element—but since the Incubus seemed to be just as off-balance, Oliver found he didn’t actually mind.

But he was still unhappy with being ignored all day.

“Why are you hiding in here?”

A week ago, he wouldn’t have had the nerve to flat out ask Priest something like that. If he had, they wouldn’t have been tiptoeing around each other for months. But nearly dying and having your life’s work destroyed had a way of convincing a person to just say fuck it . Sleep with the sex Demon. Ask the hard questions. Eat all the donuts.

Priest’s face made a series of complicated expressions. “I’m not. I’ve just been busy.”

Oliver clenched his teeth. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That!” He waved a hand at Priest, a ball of hurt sitting uncomfortably in his stomach. “Don’t lie to me, and don’t act like you aren’t still scared.”

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Priest’s gaze met his own, and blackness swallowed his eyes, turning them into the dark abyss of his Demon. “Oliver, it’s better if we?—”

“And don’t fucking make decisions for me!”

His chest heaved with his panting breaths, and he was more than a little surprised to find himself only a foot away from Priest. He didn’t remember crossing the room, his anger blotting it out.

The blackness seeped away, and Priest cocked his head, studying Oliver in a way he wasn’t completely comfortable with. “That was… peculiar.”

“What— shit .” He reached out blindly for the worktable, a wave of dizziness washing over him and nearly taking him out at the knees. Warm, strong hands gripped his arms, steadying him until he could refocus his eyesight. Priest’s worried face was only inches from his own. “I’m okay. I guess I’m not quite as recovered as I thought.”

Even as he said the words, he knew in his gut that wasn’t what was wrong. He tried to pull away, but Priest tightened his hold and tugged him closer. “Do you know what you just did, little human ?”

Oliver licked his dry lips, a shiver rolling down his body at the emphasis the Demon put on those last two words. “I didn’t do anything.”

Priest hummed and cupped the side of Oliver’s face, tipping his head back and leaning closer. “Very peculiar.”

“Priest…” He breathed out the word, his lids lowering and lips parting without his permission.

“Yes, darling?”

“I’m still mad at you.” He definitely was. Even though goose bumps were rippling across his skin at the sinful sensation of that damn forked tongue tasting just inside his mouth. His anger was just somewhere else now.

“I’ll make it up to you.” The words were said directly against his lips, tearing free a moan from deep in his chest, but before Priest could do more than press their mouths together, someone cleared their throat behind Oliver.

Loudly.

“If you two wouldn’t mind,” Azriel said, voice more serious than usual, as Oliver jerked backward, only somewhat relieved when Priest let him that time. “I need to talk to Oliver. Alone.”

He whirled around to face the Angel, surprised to find him leaning against a bookshelf a good ten feet from the door. “How did you get here so fast?”

Azriel rolled his eyes and pushed himself upright, striding across the room with the same loose-hipped strut that always made Oliver a little uncomfortable no matter how long he knew him. “Used my wings, of course.”

“But…” He hadn’t felt a breeze like he usually did when Azriel used the invisible limbs to get around a little faster.

“Come along,” Azriel said, not pausing as he exited the room.

“Um.” Oliver bit his lip and turned to face Priest once again. “To be continued?”

His skittish Demon had retreated a few steps and was back to looking more awkward and less straight-up lustful.

Pity.

“Sure, if you want,” Priest said, a strained casualness in his tone. “Knight and Jeremiah will be here soon to give us an update.”

A surge of hope crashed through him. Would they bother coming to give an update if they didn’t have something important to share? Maybe they’d found a clue about where Poe was and finally believed him.

“Okay. If I’m still with Azriel when they get here, come and get me.” He retreated toward the door but turned back at the last minute, biting his lip and then giving Priest a soft smile. “Please?”

Priest’s throat bobbed, and the room sizzled around them. “I?—”

“Knock it off, you sex fiends!”

If Oliver didn’t like the Angel so much—and wasn’t more than a little scared of his powers—he’d kill him for his rotten timing.

Groaning, he spun away and marched out. His gut told him where to find Azriel, though he probably could have guessed. The den at the back of Priest’s house had an extensive wet bar. Sure enough, the Angel was lounging on the couch with a glass of brown liquid in hand. He was wearing his signature torn-to-hell jeans and a white T-shirt so thin and ratty there were holes near the collar and seams, and Oliver could see his nipples through the fabric.

It was not a look that should have worked, but combined with Azriel’s supernatural beauty, it really, really did.

“There you are.” He set the drink aside and patted the spot next to him on the couch.

Sighing, Oliver perched on the edge. “What’s going on?”

“I have a theory about what you are.” The Angel turned to face him more fully, brushing his bare knee against Oliver’s arm in the process.

He gasped and jerked away at the sharp, electric pain the brief contact had caused. “What the hell?”

“I think you mean what the heaven.”

“Azriel!” Oliver scrambled away from him, putting a solid two feet between them. “Why would you use your powers on me like that?”

Instead of even pretending to be sorry, the Angel smirked and sank his elbow into the back of the couch, resting his head on his fist. “I didn’t. I just didn’t protect you from them like I usually do. If you were one hundred percent human, it would have fried your brain inside your skull.”

Oliver jumped to his feet, fury building inside him. “You tried to kill me? What the hell is the matter with you!”

“Settle down, babe,” Azriel drawled, grabbing his glass and taking a noisy slurp. “There’s no need to get all dramatic about it. I was pretty sure you wouldn’t die, and you didn’t. Everything’s fine.”

“ Everything is not fine! ”

Bright, glowing white eyes were suddenly right in front of his face, the air buffeting him from every side. The scent of magic and feathers was thick in the air, cooling his rage with a dose of bone-chilling fear. This was the side of Azriel that had always scared him but he’d rarely seen, and never directed at him. He became very aware of how weak and fragile he was compared to the fallen Angel.

But a small, ignored part of him woke up at the threat.

And it was pissed.

Heat began to build inside his veins, and his fingers and shoulder blades tingled with a phantom desire to do… something . Anger that wasn’t his own and yet was at the same time flooded his chest, cracking him open to make room for something big and powerful.

“What’s… happening…” Oliver clutched at his sternum, his breathing becoming labored as the force pressed against his lungs and heart and up into his throat. “Azriel…”

“Shhh. Don’t fight it.” Warm, gentle hands cupped his face as the wind in the room eased back down to nothing. “It’s time to wake up, little brother.”

“I don’t?—”

Azriel lifted two glowing fingers and tapped his forehead.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

“There you are. How are you feeling?”

Oliver rubbed at his face and squinted at the bright room around him. His head ached like he and Poe had drunk too many shots playing Never Have I Ever again. Gods, why did he let that little asshole talk him into doing dumb shit like that?

Wait.

That wasn’t right.

Poe was…

He sat up, nearly smoking Azriel in the face with his head, and glanced around. The den looked exactly the same, and so did he. Carefully, he touched his chest, but he couldn’t feel the swelling power anymore. He just felt like… him.

“What happened?”

“Apart from confirming my theory was correct—as I usually am—you were unconscious for a little while.”

Something about his arrogant tone triggered a memory. Azriel fucking with him—using powers on him. Something heavy in his chest trying to claw its way out. He glanced at the Angel’s smirk and remembered something else. “I’m still pissed at you too.”

Azriel’s head tipped back with his chuckle. “I’m sure you are, little brother.”

Little brother… It’s time to wake up…

“I’m not going to ask again. What happened?”

“You woke up.” Azriel leaned back against the couch, one knee crooked up, his arm resting over it. “I’ve suspected for a while that you weren’t fully human, but I thought it might just be us rubbing off on you. So to speak.”

“Don’t,” Oliver warned, in no mood for his crude sex jokes.

Azriel held up his hands in surrender, and his tone shifted into something far less playful. “I’m being serious. I’ve been drawn to you since I met you. I thought it was because you were an ally—and trust me when I say I treasure my human allies. But the longer you were here, the more I started to wonder. Today proved it.”

“That I’m not human?” Oliver couldn’t help his bitter laugh. “Do you know who my family is, Az? There’s not a chance in hell.”

“The most bigoted families have the deepest secrets, Oliver.” Azriel dropped his legs to the floor and stood up, pacing in front of him. “I’ve seen it a thousand times, and usually it doesn’t matter, but that’s because I haven’t seen a descendant from an Angel in a long, long time.”

Oliver’s ears began to ring. An Angel? There was no chance in hell.

“Trust me, it makes sense. You were drawn to me, weren’t you? You’re not the kind of man who frequents clubs like mine. Not for fun. You’d come over to drink a fizzy water and sort your taxes, darling.”

Oliver’s cheeks went hot. Azriel wasn’t wrong, and Oliver couldn’t really explain it. The club felt like home. Except… maybe it wasn’t the club. Maybe it was because Azriel was there. Fuck, no, he could not be entertaining this.

“I’m human.”

“Not entirely.” Azriel dropped beside him and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “Those feelings you get in your gut? Humans don’t have those. Or, if they do, they’re called paranoia and treated with medication. Yours are real. You know they are. Your little premonitions always come true.”

Oliver tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “I’m… how…”

“My guess is that a grandparent or a great-grandparent had a little tryst. I’m not the only Angel around who likes to?—”

“Slum it?”

Azriel looked angry and offended. “The people who came up with that term were trying to make it sound like we thought humans were dirty. We don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered. All these years away from his family, and sometimes shit like that popped out of his mouth. “I didn’t mean it.”

Azriel relaxed and took Oliver’s hand, holding it gently. “I know you didn’t. And I know this is a lot. Take time to process, okay?”

Oliver nodded, then sucked in a breath and looked frantically into Azriel’s eyes. “Don’t tell Priest. I… I can’t deal with this right now, okay? Poe’s missing, and he’s being a weird, overprotective dick who’s also avoiding me, which—make that make sense.”

“It’s because he’s a Demon, and he’s afraid to hurt you. He’s always been afraid to hurt you,” Azriel said.

“You can feel that?”

Azriel snorted and rolled his eyes. “No. That little shit gets drunk and dumps his unrequited love all over me every time he sets foot in my club.”

Oliver’s ears burned. “Oh.”

With a soft smile, Azriel tilted Oliver’s chin up. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it? Because I don’t know what this means for me. Do I have powers? Will I get wings? What do people with Angel blood like mine even do?”

Azriel studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. And I’m not sure you’d want me as your teacher even if I did. But I can put you in touch with someone if you want to learn more.”

“If? Is that a serious question? Why wouldn’t I?”

Azriel’s smile was soft and a little sad. “Because accepting what you are will change things. The more you know, the more your Angel side will emerge, and once it does, there’s no going back.”

Oliver swallowed heavily. “And if I stop here, I stay human.”

“You’re definitely not human, Oliver. Not fully. You never have been. But you can pretend it’s not there and go about in society as you were. Mostly undetected.”

Oliver understood what he was saying. “That feels like denying a big part of who I am.”

“I can’t help you there. I’ve never been in that position,” Azriel told him. He squeezed his hand tighter, then slowly let go. “Take your time. Like you said, there’s a million things going on right now, and this is the least important one of them.”

The Angel was right. Poe had to come first and then whatever strange dance he was doing with Priest. The world was also on fire, and the gods only knew when things would go back to normal again. If they ever could.

Whoever he was—whatever he was—could probably wait. “I think I?—”

“Priest is here,” Azriel interrupted.

A second later, the Demon himself appeared in the doorway. He looked just as awkward as before, but maybe a little more tired, and definitely apologetic. “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.”

“About Poe?” Oliver asked, jumping to his feet.

Priest bowed his head and took a breath before looking up. His irises had thick black rings around them. “Yes, Oliver. About Poe.”