Page 77 of Priest

“You mean the starvation thing, right?”

Priest bit his lip, then said, “I have no idea how many Incubi are out there. We’ve spent eons trying not to breed because the last thing any of us wanted to do was condemn another soul to this torment. And those of us who do abandon our young.”

“Have you abandoned?—”

“No,” Priest interrupted in a rush. The idea of children horrified him, but if it had happened, he could have never left his child. Not after what he’d suffered. “No. But my mother left me at a group home for Supes like me. It was… lonely. Terrifying some nights. Painful. We were educated on what we were and what we were meant to become. They told me if I wanted to survive, I should go into the service of a royal household.”

Oliver sat up a little. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Priest said softly. “That kind of service. They said there would be no stopping the madness—that I would eventually succumb—but being employed in the service of someone wealthy meant I might delay it for longer than an Incubus who had to find food on their own.”

“So they’d get sex and what? Power? I mean, you’re capable of doing a lot of damage,” Oliver said. “You’re strong.”

Priest wasn’t sure where he was going with that, but he could feel in the bond that Oliver had a point. “Yes. Like Hellhounds, Incubi can be trained as a sort of attack dog… with perks. And I’d have the ability to feed more often than finding a willing being, and it would keep me from going over the edge too young.”

“Convenient,” Oliver spat.

Priest rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s not complete bullshit, my love. I felt it. I felt the gnawing hunger. I felt the madness. And the time I could go between feeds was growing less and less.”

“Yeah, but…” Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Did you ever try to find someone? Not like a one-off, but someone you cared about?”

Priest snorted. “I’m a Demon, little human. Most people—supernatural or not—aren’t like you.”

“I feel like that’s kind of my point. You believed it, and everyone else around you believed it. But you and I just proved it’s bullshit. Jeremiah and Remi proved it’s bullshit. And Knight?—”

They didn’t know if it was bullshit for Knight, but Priest was terrified that no matter what his friend wanted, he might not ever be in a place he could accept it.

“We know the virus is bullshit, so what’s to say that the reason Incubi have all gone mad is because they’ve spent centuries believing a lie and have turned away from their true nature.”

“Thisismy true nature,” Priest said, starting to feel defensive.

Oliver twisted, pushing up onto his knees, and he cradled Priest’s face between both hands. “This is your nature, Claude. This. With me. The rest is bullshit. I refuse to believe that any creature was created only to die in agony. That there are beings out there who are meant to be alone and unloved. That’s just… it’s not possible.”

“You’re optimistic.”

“I’m following a trail of evidence. I’m a nerd and a historian. It’s what I do.” Oliver leaned in and kissed him. “Believe me. Please.”

The truth was, Priest did believe him, but it scared him. If it was true—if it wasalltrue—it meant thousands before him had lived and died because of a lie. It meant he was abandoned by his family because of a lie. It meant that their numbers were almost nonexistent now because of a lie.

But why? What was the point?

“We need to talk to Jeremiah,” Oliver said, settling back into his arms. “I think he’ll see my point.”

“I think you’re right,” Priest murmured. He dipped his head low and took Oliver in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was wrong.

But the only thing that really mattered was right there, in that moment. Whatever the truth was for others, Oliver was right. Loving his little human was his true nature now.

Priest watched as Oliver paced the room, his hands moving as he spoke. It was like an intricate dance, and he fought the urge to grab him and pin him to the chair so he could kiss the breath out of him. He didn’t because Jeremiah would have mauled him, though he had a feeling Remi might enjoy the show.

But Oliver had an audience now, and he’d been working on the smaller details of his theory the whole trip to the Trident Headquarters.

It helped that Jeremiah was riveted. It didn’t show in his face, but it showed in the way one hand was clenching into a fist and relaxing, revealing a hint of claw. And in the way he kept his thumb running over Remi’s wrist like he needed the physical touch since everything Oliver was saying was overwhelming.

“It makes sense,” Remi said after a long beat.

Jeremiah turned and quirked a brow at him. “Does it?”

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