Page 14 of Priest

Oliver felt like he was going to throw up all over his lap. He understood that the others were making sense, and maybe he was just being stubborn because there wasn’t a chance in hell he wanted to live life without Poe in the world, but he couldn’tshake the feeling that they were wrong. Poe was alive. He might be hurt, and he was definitely missing.

But he wasn’t dead.

He tried to move his legs, but he realized he could barely feel them, and panic raced up his spine. “I can’t move.”

Azriel nodded. “I know. You’re healing. I gave you literally everything I could, but your body’s going to need to do the rest.”

“Am I… will I walk again?” Oliver asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel gave him a pat on the hand. “Yes, darling. Even dancing eventually, but right now, you need to rest. I’m going to make a couple calls and get you some potions that work on humans, okay?”

Oliver let out a shaking sigh, then nodded. What he wanted was to jump out of the bed and follow the odd sensation in his chest. It was tugging at him like someone had attached a string to his soul, and he knew it would lead him to Poe.

But he physically couldn’t, and right then, he couldn’t stop his eyes from getting hot.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Priest asked after Azriel and Easton left the room. He’d finally moved away from Oliver, but the empty space felt all wrong.

Oliver realized that was the last thing in the world he wanted. “Will you stay? I, uh…” Oliver’s gaze cut to the window. The shades were mostly drawn, but he realized right then he could see flashing lights from the fire trucks and the police.

Gods, it all felt so real suddenly.

His eyes got hot, and he looked away, mortified, as tears began to spill down his cheeks. There was a crushing grief for everything he’d lost and a sudden fear because while he knew Poe wasn’t dead, if he wasn’t in the shop rubble, where was he?

“Hey,” Priest said, dropping to his knees beside the bed. “What can I do?”

Oliver shook his head. He couldn’t speak, or he’d fall apart.

“Would you like touch? Comfort? I mean, I don’t think I’m super great at—oh,” Priest gasped when Oliver blindly reached for him and yanked him close.

Considering the way Priest had reacted to him before, he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to have this again, so he was going to be greedy. He didn’t think a Demon would mind if he indulged in that—especially an Incubus. He closed his eyes as Priest wrapped his impossibly warm body around him and held him tight.

Sobs lodged in his chest, but eventually, the edge of hysteria faded, and he could breathe again. “Sorry,” he managed.

“Shut up,” Priest replied, then stiffened. “Sorry. Gods, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just… I mean… please don’t apologize for needing—um—this.”

You, Oliver finished for him. And maybe that’s what Priest had been about to say. He buried his face in the Demon’s shirt and breathed in his scent. It was heady and rich and spicy. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, both emotionally and physically, he might have even responded to it.

“I hate feeling weak and useless,” Oliver said, finally giving voice to his raging emotions. “I should be out there looking for Poe.”

“Ol—”

“No,” Oliver interrupted at the sound of Priest’s pacifying tone. He pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I know it sounds nuts, but heisalive.”

“How do you know?” Priest asked. He didn’t sound like he was mocking Oliver, which was the only reason he felt safe to answer.

“I don’t understand it. It’s just this… feeling.” He touched his aching sternum. “It’s right here. It’s like this little pulse trying totell me that he’s still here. And I should be out there looking for him because something is definitely wrong, and he needs help.”

Priest’s brow furrowed. “Well, somethingiswrong, that’s for damned sure.”

It was obvious he didn’t agree with Oliver that Poe was alive, but he didn’t immediately dismiss him either, which was something, at least. Oliver closed his eyes and sagged against Priest again. “Promise me when I’m better, we can go get him. Wherever he is.”

Oliver felt Priest dragging fingers through his hair. The gesture was kind and soft and soothing enough that Oliver felt himself slipping toward unconsciousness again. The edges of his vision were going black, and his limbs were heavy.

Just before he slipped away, he swore he heard Priest say, “We can do whatever you want. I’d do anything for you.”

But maybe that was part of a dream.

When Oliver woke next, his heart sank when he realized his pain wasn’t much better, and he still couldn’t really move his legs. He got a few wiggles out of his toes, but his body felt shattered. Which, he realized, it probably was. Azriel was an Angel, so he’d been able to stop Oliver from actually dying, but Angelic miracles had limits.

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