Priest (Trident Agency #2)

18. Oliver

18

OLIVER

H e should have been petrified, but he wasn’t. The sight of Priest’s entirely changed form would have sent even the strongest human running. But for him, all he saw was the primal, gorgeous, powerful being Priest was. He no longer thought of them as separate.

This was Priest. His beloved. His Demon.

His horns were shiny onyx, twisting up from his temples. Oliver stroked them, and Priest purred loudly before shoving his face in Oliver’s neck. His fangs touched him again, not biting yet, and Oliver wanted to scream. He needed it. His end of the bond was frayed and bleeding, aching to be complete.

Instead, Priest pulled back, and his forked tongue flicked over Oliver’s nipples. He dipped lower, to his belly button, over his hips, tasting every inch of his skin. The palm of Priest’s hand was rough as it took Oliver’s cock in a firm grip, and the tip of his tongue dipped into his slit, sending tendrils of ecstasy rushing through him.

“Please,” he begged in a shattered whisper.

Priest growled and pressed his free hand to Oliver’s throat, silencing him. The pressure was overwhelming in the best way. Oliver’s entire body went limp, and Priest let out another happy purr as he shoved Oliver’s leg up toward his chest and then began to devour him.

A forked tongue inside him was still one of the best sensations Oliver had ever experienced. He was floating on waves of pleasure, body trembling with need, unfulfilled and suddenly afraid Priest would spend the rest of their lives tormenting him with the promise of being filled, the promise of being allowed to come and never letting him have it.

Priest’s low, dangerous chuckle penetrated his thoughts, and Oliver blinked heavily, looking down to find Priest watching him. “Beg me.”

Oliver’s throat went tight. “I…”

“Beg me for what you want.”

“Your cock,” Oliver rasped. He tried to move, but Priest kept him pinned. “I want your cock inside me.”

“You want it?”

“I need it.” Oliver started to feel more frantic. He suddenly felt like prey, like breaking free and running.

Priest’s eyes darkened, and the grip on Oliver’s throat tightened. “Soon, little human. Soon, you’ll be free to run while I hunt you. Tonight, though, I’m going to claim you.”

Oliver’s cock throbbed, dripping a river of precome over Priest’s fist as he squeezed his cock. “Make me yours. I can’t live without you. I love you.”

Priest groaned, and then suddenly, his hands moved, bracing himself on either side of Oliver’s head. The tip of his cock pressed against Oliver’s hole—hot, thick, wet. He fucked his hips forward, and his cock caught on the rim of Oliver’s hole, hesitating before his body relaxed, and then Priest slipped inside him an inch.

The familiar feeling of Priest’s thrall began to wrap around him. Oliver knew he would never lose himself to it like the others, but he could still feel it. Like a gentle buzz of Siren Water, it made him feel good. Soft. Eager.

“So eager,” Priest agreed, dragging the tip of his claw over Oliver’s lips. “Tell me you want this.”

Oliver knew what he meant. Not just sex. Not just to be together. This was it. The moment he gave himself to Priest, there was no turning back. But he wasn’t afraid. He turned his head, baring his neck, and he spread his legs as far as he could manage. Priest’s cock throbbed inside him, but he didn’t move.

“I want this,” Oliver said. “It’s you. Only you. And always will be.”

His eyes had just enough time to close before Priest thrust all the way inside and sank his fangs into Oliver’s neck. He felt them pierce his skin, felt the first rush of blood, felt the thin tongue lap against the flow. But there was no pain. There was a bright spark and a thousand threads coming together.

There was the beat of his own heart and the beat of Priest’s. There was ecstasy, eternal and overwhelming, rushing through his veins. Nothing had ever felt so good. Nothing ever would. He was moving, his body writhing on instinct, taking every push, every pull, as though he was made for it.

He felt Priest feeding, felt him drawing strength from Oliver and giving him strength in return. His Angel blood inside him sang, reaching for Priest’s Demon, sealing them together.

“My love, my love,” Priest gasped. He kissed Oliver, sharing the metal tang of blood. And then Priest was shoving Oliver’s face into his own neck. “Now you. Seal us. Make me yours.”

Oliver had no fangs, but he did as Priest said, biting down and feeling something give beneath his teeth. There was no blood, but there was something else. A white-hot rush of lust that was better than any orgasm he’d ever experienced.

For a moment, he thought he might die from it. He thought it might last forever, and somehow, it would be both heaven and hell. His vision went completely white and then black. He felt himself coming in hot, thick ropes, Priest fucking deep inside him, filling him.

And then he felt the moment the bond was in place. It settled in his chest like a second heartbeat, a gentle thrum of his beloved that would never be silent. He would never be alone. Not really.

He was complete.

Oliver didn’t realize he was crying until Priest’s rough tongue was swiping tears from his cheeks, and he blinked his eyes open, surprised to see Priest’s human face and black eyes looking down at him.

“Regrets?”

“Never.” Oliver’s voice was barely a whisper, incapable of going louder. But it didn’t matter. He knew Priest could now feel the honesty of his words. He would always know when he was telling the truth. And he would always know when he lied.

Priest cupped his face, hands still clawed but so gentle. He was stronger again. Healed.

Thanks to you, little human.

He smiled gently and then kissed the corner of Oliver’s lips. “We need rest.”

“We need to clean up,” Oliver countered.

Priest rumbled a protest and nuzzled against the tender bite on Oliver’s neck. “Let me have you like this. Let me wake up and smell us on your skin. Just this once.”

Oliver sighed. How could he say no?

“Is it weird that I can smell it?”

Oliver looked up from his phone. It was the first thing Poe had said to him since greeting him when he came in. Oliver had rambled a little—the way he always did when he was nervous. He half expected to be more confident or… more charming, maybe, now that he shared a bond with an Incubus.

But he was simply himself with the press of Priest’s love behind his ribs.

“Please tell me you’re not talking about my blood,” Oliver said.

Poe grimaced. He was very pale and still trembled whenever he tried to move too fast. Knight said that was normal—at least, it was normal for Vampires who had been turned under that sort of trauma. He’d been keeping his distance from Poe other than to help him feed, and Oliver understood why. But he knew Poe was terrified of his new reality, and he hated that there was nothing he could do to take it away.

“I meant the bond,” Poe said. He stretched his arms above his head and then shuffled to sit up a little more. He pulled one leg close to his chest, and for the first time since he’d woken, he looked more like himself. “Is it… how is it? What does it feel like?”

Oliver bit his lip as he stretched his legs out, and he closed his eyes, poking at the sensation. “It’s… I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like, I know where he is at all times—and he knows where I am. But it’s not intrusive.”

“It sounds…”

“Awful?” He knew Poe would have hated it. Poe was always fiercely protective of his privacy.

“Interesting. Comforting.” When Oliver lifted a brow at him, Poe ducked his head. “Maybe that’s just the trauma talking. I never thought I was going to see anyone I loved ever again.”

Oliver ached to reach for him, but Poe was hesitant about being touched. He could hear blood flowing when he got too close, and he was still working on his control. He was also jumpy, and Oliver knew it was from whatever the humans had done to him. He still wouldn’t talk about it, but he was going to know soon enough. Priest was speaking with the other survivors, and they were willing to share their experiences.

“I guess I was right,” Poe said after a beat, laughing. “About you two.”

Oliver groaned, throwing his hands over his face. “I didn’t think it was going to be this deep. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love him.”

I love you too.

Oliver tried to hide his smile. “I don’t think I’d trade it for the world, but it was a complete mindfuck, dealing with that and trying to find you.”

Poe stared at him, and Oliver almost jumped out of his skin when Poe’s cool hand met his own. He did nothing, letting Poe take the lead. Holding hands felt different now. Not better, not worse. Just changed.

Poe bowed his head. “Will I ever stop being angry, do you think?”

“Knight hasn’t.”

“Yeah.” Poe glanced out the window, where they could both see Knight sitting outside under a tree. He never went far from the house, but he seemed to prefer being outdoors. “He was with them a lot longer than I was though.”

“Did he tell you that?”

Poe nodded. He bit his lip again, and this time, Oliver could see his fangs. “He really doesn’t like talking about it. Any of it.” Poe swallowed heavily, and Oliver could see the heartbreak on his face, which killed him. “I understand why. I… I hate what I remember. I hate it.”

Oliver wanted to hold him as his voice cracked, but he wasn’t sure what Poe needed. He extended his other hand, and Poe stared at it for a moment, then let out a watery laugh as he linked their fingers together.

“I hate that you’re afraid to touch me. I hate that you’re afraid of me.”

“Is that—oh gods, Poe,” Oliver said. He shifted closer and cupped Poe’s cheek. His skin was so cold now. “I’m not afraid of you. I just didn’t want to make it worse. Knight hates being touched. Priest said that’s one way to send him into a frenzy, and I didn’t want to do that to you.”

Poe let go of Oliver’s hand and wrapped his arms around his middle. “I want to be touched. I want… I want to know that I’m not some thing . Some monster. But everyone seems to?—”

Oliver cut him off. He couldn’t stop himself. He wrapped his arms around Poe and pulled him until he was spooning him, holding on as tightly as he dared.

“Every touch hurt when I was with them,” Poe said in a small voice. “Every single person came with some kind of agony at their hands, and… and I need to remember not everyone will be like that.”

Oliver pressed his forehead to the back of Poe’s neck. “It’ll never hurt here. Not with me, not with the Alphas, and not with Azriel.”

Poe took in a deep breath, and it trembled on his exhale. “He said he’s taking me to his place. I didn’t think an Angel would want to deal with a messy newborn Vampire.”

Oliver couldn’t help a laugh. “Messy newborn Vampire sounds like his dream job. Come on, you’ve met him.”

Poe snorted and snuggled backward. “That’s fair. And, uh… thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Oliver tightened his arms, and he felt a small pang of grief when Poe didn’t grunt from the force of it. Because of course he didn’t. He wasn’t human anymore.

“I will never give up on you, okay? You’re more than a friend. You’re more than family to me. Priest might be my mate and my bonded, but you’ve been my other half for as long as I can remember. You saved me. Even if they’d brought me a lifeless corpse, I would have forced Priest or Jeremiah to show me to the gates of the afterlife, and I would have come for you.”

Poe laughed, but it sounded close to a sob, and he twisted in Oliver’s arms. “I feel the same way about you. I think that’s why they couldn’t break me. Not completely. I knew you’d find me eventually.”

Oliver stared into his eyes, irises almost fully red now, and he knew once Poe had fed enough, they’d be completely scarlet when he fed or lost control of his emotions. “They did enough to make you turn.”

Poe nodded and bit his lip so hard his fangs broke skin. He swiped at the drops with his tongue, then shuddered. “To be honest, I don’t know how it happened. It’s not what they tell people though. They didn’t infect me with a virus. I never got sick. It was like… It was like they were using pain to invoke some kind of reaction or something. Like they were trying to wake something up inside me.”

Just like Jeremiah had suspected. Like their missing Nephilim friend had been studying.

He ducked his head and caught Poe’s gaze. “Was there a Nephilim at the lab?”

“The Hellhound guy already asked me that when I woke up, and if there was one, I don’t remember,” Poe told him, looking sorry. “I remember the sound of kids. I… I think that made me angrier than anything else. I asked the Hellhound how many of them died, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“I don’t think he has numbers on how many were there before the raid,” Oliver told him. “But I know there were a handful of kids that were alive and two that were turned.”

“Oh gods,” Poe groaned, flopping his head back. “I had these ridiculous plans about how I was going to escape and save them, but I failed.”

“You didn’t. You called to me—you kept calling to me, and I heard you. I found you.”

Poe studied him for a beat. “So it’s true. You’re?—”

“Part Angel, I guess. Some sort of family secret shame,” he said bitterly. “Part of me wants to go confront my parents, but I also never want to see their faces again.”

“Does it make you a Nephilim?”

Oliver laughed and shrugged. “I don’t think so, but no one seems to know what it makes me. Priest still calls me his little human, though because of my powers, I can feed him without getting hurt. Azriel thinks that the more I use my abilities—like, the more I learn about them and hone them—the more powerful I’ll get.”

You’ll always be my little human, beloved.

I know.

“So we’re both freaks?”

“Yup. You and me until the end,” Oliver said with a grin.

Poe started to laugh, but it turned into a yawn, and he glanced away with embarrassment. “Sorry. I think I’m still tired.”

“After what you went through?” Oliver shifted his arms back and pulled the blanket up to Poe’s chest. “It’ll be time for you to eat soon, right?”

Poe swallowed heavily. “Would you mind if—if you didn’t watch that part?”

Oliver wanted to tell him he’d seen enough bloodshed and death that watching Poe feed wouldn’t faze him at all. But he also knew Poe was still struggling with needing to keep himself alive on the blood of others. “Just call me when you need me, okay? Priest and I are staying here with you and Azriel until you’re ready to leave.”

“Thank you,” Poe said sleepily.

By the time Oliver extracted himself from the bed, Poe was already asleep. He let himself out and almost collided with Knight, who jumped back to avoid being touched. Oliver offered him a sheepish grin.

“Sorry. Sorry. I was just, uh…”

“Visiting your friend?”

“Right. That.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then blurted, “Can your friends touch you?”

Knight blinked at him.

“Gods, that’s such a rude question, but I just… Poe needed to be touched. He felt like the way everyone was avoiding him was because they were scared of him being a monster. And I know it’s hard for you, but does it… does it help?”

Knight was quiet for so long Oliver was pretty sure he’d crossed about a dozen lines. Then he took a breath and said, “It helps sometimes. But my experience was different from Poe’s. I think I was one of the first experiments. I was there for a long, long time. Being touched by someone I trust is everything, but even then, sometimes it’s too much.”

“What helped?”

“Time,” Knight said with a shrug. “Surrounding myself with people who understood what it was like to be considered a monster and learning that I wasn’t one. Destigmatizing the shame that comes with what I am. And my moths.”

Oliver smiled. He knew a little bit about his moths. “You’ll help him, right? You and Azriel. I can’t lose him.”

Knight’s jaw ticked. “You won’t lose him. He’ll find his way. I promise.”

Priest was gone through dinner, so Oliver made up a small plate and brought it back to their room. He trudged in an hour and a half later, looking dead on his feet, though he perked up at the sight of Oliver lounging on the bed with a book. Oliver’s heart kicked up a notch when Priest’s did.

“Oh. That’s different.” Oliver pressed a hand to his sternum. “I feel that.”

“How much I want you?”

“How much you want to hold me. It’s more than lust.”

Priest shed his outer layer of clothes, then slipped into sweats from his suitcase before climbing beside Oliver, bare-chested and so warm. “That’s a new feeling for me too. Feelings were always separated into lust and friendship. It’s how I determined who was food and who wasn’t. But with you, I’ve always wanted more. That’s why I was such a complete fucking jackass every time I came into your shop.”

It still hurt to talk about the shop, but Oliver smiled in spite of the pain. The memories were tinged with bitterness of a thing they could no longer have. Life would never be easy. He and Poe would never be human again. There would never again be a day where things were monotonous and safe.

“I don’t believe that,” Priest said, picking up on his thoughts. He brushed his fingers through Oliver’s hair as he pulled him close. “There will be simple days again. It might take a while, but we’ll get there.”

“You have a lot more faith than me,” Oliver said.

Priest pinched his chin and took his lips in a slow, possessive kiss. “I can have as much faith as I need to until you feel ready for your own. That’s one of the perks of being bonded.”

One among many.

Oliver rolled his eyes, so Priest bit him over his mating mark, and he burst into laughter. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“You love it.”

Oliver pulled back and met his gaze. “Yes. I do.”

He kissed him again until they were both a little breathless, but Priest was well-fed, and they were both too tired to do much more than that. Priest cradled his cheeks and eased him onto his back before snuggling close.

“How was the… What do you call it? Debriefing?”

“It was long and painful,” Priest admitted. “The survivors—the ones that weren’t turned—they’re going to need a lot of help that they can’t get right now because they need to be kept hidden. We have no idea how deep this goes, and with the journals Jeremiah found, he’s pretty sure several governments are involved.”

Shock rushed through him. “Governments? Like, not just humans?”

“High-ranking members,” Priest said. “Jeremiah thinks that most people are largely unaware and that several ruling families and heads of democracy are out of the loop. But enough people in power are in on this.”

“That’s… a lot.”

“I think it’s more than Jeremiah bargained for,” Priest admitted. “But we have somewhere to start now.” He yawned so wide his jaw cracked, and then he nestled close. “Knight wants to check out the lab tomorrow. See if we missed anything.”

“Do you think that’s safe? Won’t they be watching it?”

Priest laughed. “They might be, but they already know who raided them. Trust me, little human, we are never subtle. We’re not afraid to let them all know they’re our next target.”

Oliver was suddenly overwhelmed with fear that something could happen to Priest. He clung tightly. “Weren’t you just a bodyguard, like, six months ago?”

Priest pushed up and brushed a lock of hair off Oliver’s forehead. “And you were just a human. But things change. Taking contracts the way we did was part of our job. The other part is to deal with injustice. All of us deal with it. We’re pariahs in almost every corner of the continent just because we have the misfortune of being an unacceptable form of supernatural. Pushed to the edges of society, doomed to mateless existences. Creatures like me condemned to an eventual life of insanity and hunger from never being completely sated.”

Oliver frowned. “But you have a mate. You can feed on me and be sated. Like, actually sated.”

“I…” Priest froze, cocking his head. “I am sated. Fully. Completely.”

“So will that still be your fate?”

“I don’t know.” Priest closed his eyes. “I don’t know if there’s ever been a mated Incubus before.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Oliver said, and Priest opened his eyes, raising a brow at him. “I’m just saying, you can’t possibly be the first. I mean, if you were somehow mated to a fallen Angel or something, I could see that maybe it had never happened before in history, but you’re not. I’m mostly human. Whatever this bond was, it didn’t come directly from me. I didn’t create it in you.”

Priest shook his head, looking confused. “Incubi… I’ve never heard of one of us bonding. It’s incredibly rare for a Demon to have a fated mate, but Incubi… we simply succumb to the hunger.”

“But do you know that? Or is that what you’ve always been taught to believe?”

Priest stared.

“I don’t mean to be a dick or—or a know-it-all. I just mean there’s so much we all thought about Vampires. Things we were so sure were fact. Even Knight believed he was infected, but the more we uncover, the more he seems to be remembering differently. So how much of what you know about yourself is real? It’s not like you had family to teach you, right?”

Priest’s face paled. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said in a rush. He could feel that it was too much—that after everything, Priest didn’t need another revelation about himself. He cupped his face and kissed him fiercely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You couldn’t possibly,” Priest said roughly. “But I… Gods, I think you might be onto something. I need to speak with Jeremiah the second we get back to the city.”

“We’re going home?”

Priest nodded. “Once Poe’s ready to be moved to Azriel’s, we’ll meet the Alphas.”

“You mean you.”

Priest shook his head, meeting Oliver’s gaze intensely. “We. You’re clever, beloved, and it’s becoming more and more obvious that we need you. That you see things we don’t. And that’s not your Angel powers. That’s just you.”

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but Priest kissed him until the words died on the back of his tongue, and all he knew was the taste of his bonded and the warmth that surrounded him made up entirely of how much the Demon adored him.

Wanted him.

Needed him.

Loved him.