Page 46 of Priest

“Turn it down, asshole,” Priest snarled, letting his eyes go black. “I’m not going to let you ruin Oliver’s hearing because your Hoard lets you get away with being a prick.”

Rorick held his gaze as he reached over with one heavily tattooed arm and cranked the volume down to barely audible. “There you go, princess. Now, are you getting in, or do you need to remove the stick that’s up your ass before you can comfortably sit?”

Priest stared at the Dragon. He had half a mind to drag Oliver back to the plane and take him to one of their safe houses instead. Rorick didn’t move a muscle, his handsome face completely stoic, with just the faintest glimmer of orange in his irises.

Of all the Dragons in the Hoard, he was, by far, Priest’s least favorite. His attitude was always grumpy, to say the least, sometimes bordering on hostile. When Priest had spent time with the Hoard while he was babysitting the Siren crown prince’s siblings, he’d rarely seen Rorick. The man hadn’t been interested in socializing or spending time with him or the young twins, whereas the rest of the Hoard had fawned over them and loved on them like they were little baby Dragons and not half-human, half-siren prince and princess.

Priest knew enough about the Hoard’s past to understandwhyRorick was a giant asshole. But he didn’t appreciate the general hostility he was getting from him and wasn’t sure he wanted to subject Oliver to it, even for the short drive to the Hoard’s house. Sensing his mood shift, Oliver put a hand on his forearm and gave him a light squeeze, stepping in close next to him.

“Thank you for coming to pick us up,” Oliver said cheerfully, giving the stoic Dragon a wide smile. “And we truly appreciate you and your mates taking us in temporarily.”

Rorick grunted and tipped his chin up slightly, giving Oliver the barest of recognition. Then he turned forward, gazing out of the windshield like he didn’t care one way or the other whether they got in the car or not.

Oliver tugged on his arm a little, and Priest relented, giving him a hand up into the back seat and then quickly following him in. The door had barely closed, and Rorick took off, driving faster than Priest was comfortable with, but he knew if he said anything, the Dragon would probably just ignore him. So instead, he hurriedly fastened Oliver’s seat belt around him and gave him a tight smile.

Oliver’s returning smile was soft and amused. He reached up and caressed Priest’s face lightly, holding his gaze for a long moment. Warmth swelled in Priest’s chest, affection and something deeper and scarier tickling at the back of his brain.

“For fuck’s sake,” Rorick growled. “Keep it in your pants until we at least get to the house. Fucking Incubus.”

The last part was muttered so softly Oliver definitely didn’t catch it, but Priest did, his spine straightening and shoulders going back. It wasn’t like he could control his Demon when Oliver was so near to him and offering him such easy affection. His hold on his other side had been tenuous at best long beforehis little human came into his life. Now, it was all he could do not to mount and feed on him every chance he got.

Clearing his throat, Oliver slipped his hand into Priest’s and turned forward. “I’ve never visited a Dragon Hoard before,” he said conversationally. “Though I’ve read about them extensively. Is there specific etiquette I should be aware of?”

Rorick looked at him in the rearview mirror and then back at the road. Raindrops started coming down harder, the automatic wipers turning on. The music was low but still throbbing in the speakers.

Priest’s hackles began to rise at his beloved being ignored, and then Rorick finally spoke.

“No, there’s no specific etiquette. We are happy to have you as guests in our home.”

The words didn’t exactly ring true, and Priest had a feeling Caspian was behind them. No doubt, he had reminded Rorick of that before sending him to fetch them. Priest wished the geneticist could have been the one to pick them up, but it had been too short of notice for him to get out of something for work. He promised he would meet with them as soon as he was finished though, his lab conveniently located in the basement of the Hoard’s house.

“And we really do appreciate it,” Oliver said hurriedly, ignoring Rorick’s tone and general leave-me-the-fuck-alone demeanor.

“We really do,” Priest muttered when Oliver elbowed him and gave him a pointed look.

All the Dragon did was grunt at them again.

An amazing conversationalist.

“How many are in your Hoard?” Oliver asked after a few minutes of silence.

Priest winced, giving his hand a quick squeeze and then shaking his head subtly when Oliver glanced at him.

“Oh, I mean…”

Rorick cleared his throat. “There’s five of us, but you’ll only meet four.”

Oliver sent him a confused look, brows scrunched adorably, and Priest tried to convey silently that he would tell him later and to not prod at that particular subject anymore.

Taking the hint, Oliver asked, “Do you enjoy being able to fly over the mountains? It must be a lovely view.”

Rorick shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Priest rolled his eyes, deciding to step in before Rorick strained something. “I know Flint and Tamir like to go out quite often.” He’d learned that during his last visit. Flint was an executive chef at a fancy restaurant, but any chance he got, he was in the sky with one or more of his mates. Tamir owned his own garage, mostly restoring classic cars, which gave him a flexible schedule. “Tamir also really likes to hunt in his Dragon form.”

Oliver turned to him, looking grateful. “That must be so fun.”

“I hope you like venison,” Rorick muttered from the front seat.

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