Page 64 of Priest

Priest pushed up on his elbows and bared his fangs. “More. All of it. Show me what’s mine.”

Oliver shuddered as he removed his jeans, letting them pool at his feet along with his thin boxers. His body was unblemished, untouched by the violence of the night, and Priest was grateful for it. The only marks on Oliver’s skin should be his own.

He felt his fangs elongate along with his claws as he got his hands around Oliver’s hips. With a short grunt, he tugged, and Oliver toppled onto him. The warmth of his skin sent his head into a spin, his hunger taking over.

“Beautiful,” Oliver murmured.

For a moment, Priest didn’t know what he meant, and then he felt a touch along his horns. The sensation split into two rivers, one flooding his heart, the other his cock. He was torn between lust and love, and he was bewildered that even after showing himself like this, Oliver still wanted him.

His human.

His Angel.

His.

“Kiss me.” The words came out jumbled and growled, tongue thin and forked and flicking out to taste the skin on Oliver’s neck. His little human turned and gave him access to his pulse, then leaned in and pressed their lips together, and Priest had to clamp down on his desire to immediately draw power from him.

He was wounded, and his control was thready, but he was going to draw this out. He wanted to feed, but he wanted to love on this man.

“Why are you holding back?”

Priest pulled away and took Oliver’s chin carefully in his claws. “I love you.”

Oliver shuddered, his eyes closing. “Tell me again.”

Priest sank his fangs into Oliver’s neck, not enough to break the skin, but nearly. He felt those threads in his chest reaching for Oliver’s, twisting together—bright and overwhelming. It was impossible to deny it now. This was his mate. His forever. The soul the universe had chosen to be his and only his.

All he had to do was sink into him and taste him, and they would be bonded forever.

“I love you,” he said again. He forced his shift as far back to human as his hunger would allow, and he caught Oliver’s gaze. He knew his eyes were still black. His vision was distorted by his Demon, picking up on the heat radiating off Oliver’s skin like an aura sunset. He took a breath. “You are mine.”

“Yes.”

Priest shook his head. “I need you to understand. You… you are mine. My?—”

“Your mate,” Oliver said. “I know.”

How?

Oliver laughed, and Priest realized he had read the question from his mind. “I don’t know how. I just do. I feel it. I need you, Claude.”

He had never, ever thought he would enjoy hearing his given name on the lips of anyone until that moment. His eyes went hot, acidic tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“I’m not just yours, okay? You’re mine too. I want this. I want the bond. I feel like I’m going to die without it.”

Priest heard a growl, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own. It was his Demon, ready to possess, to claim, to take what was being given. To offer what he had never thought he’d be allowed to. The fact that he wasn’t just wanted but that he belonged to another soul was almost too much for him.

But his Demon wouldn’t let him spiral. It was taking over. His fangs dropped again, his face shifting, his horns stretching high above his head. He flipped Oliver onto the mattress and pressed his hands on either side of his head.

“Tell me now if?—”

“I want it. I want you. Take me,” Oliver begged, cutting him off.

And that was all Priest needed to hear before his Demon took over and descended to make Oliver his.

18

OLIVER

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