Page 17 of Priest

Azriel grimaced. “There’s always a price when it comes to the Fae.”

“Oh, fuck you, man. I don’t want Fae shit in my body.” He spat, but it was no use. He was already craving more. The Fae rarely interacted with anyone at all in their world, almost all of them having crossed over through their portals eons ago, but their influence still trickled in from time to time.

“The detox isn’t hellish. You’ll just need to increase your feed and probably sleep for a good few hours,” Azriel said.

“Like I have time for sleep,” Priest grumbled. He jolted when Azriel’s warm fingers closed over his own, but he refused to look up.

“Claude.”

“Don’t,” he growled, tensing all over, “call me that.”

The name always felt like mockery—posh and distinguished. Everything he would never be. His name now, the one he embraced, had come because he’d been found in a human church, aching all over, curled into himself under a long stretch of empty pews.

When he was younger, he found it hilarious. Now, he just ached for that small child who’d wanted nothing more than to be protected.

“I think your name is beautiful,” Azriel said softly, refusing to let him go.

Priest hated how comforting the touch of an Angel could be—and he hated that he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “You think everything’s beautiful.”

Azriel laughed. “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m here running this club. That’s why I left…”

Heaven. None of them knew exactly what had driven Azriel out of the Angelic Kingdom, but Priest had gotten enough hintsand clues over the years to be pretty sure it hadn’t been a flippant choice. Or one that had been accepted by the rest of the Host.

It might not have been achoiceat all.

Priest understood more than most. He knew what the other Incubi thought of him—fighting his hunger day in and day out, choosing to live as his own man—but like Azriel, he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. He’d die in the throes of madness before he gave himself to the control of corrupt leaders that did little more than whisper pretty lies.

“I need you to tell me he’s going to be okay,” Priest said after finishing the last of his drink.

Azriel drew his touch away, and Priest took a few deep breaths, weak with relief when the Fae magic began to work immediately, edging down his ravenous hunger to a tolerable background noise.

“He’s going to be okay for now, but I’m worried that won’t last.”

“And you should be,” came a growly voice from the doorway.

His chest pulsed with happiness as Jeremiah strode into the room, the scent of smoke and anger thick in the air around him. Priest was on his feet, flinging himself at his best friend before he could think twice. He’d been with Knight for far too long and was starved for physical affection and reassurance. Not having the Hellhound there next to him as he’d seen Oliver’s bruised and battered body had made everything harder. No one leveled him out like Jeremiah.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremiah said, gently petting his hair before shoving him off. “Such a demonic octopus.”

Priest grinned good-naturedly, then grimaced, his Demon rippling under his skin. “Oh dear gods, you smell like Siren come.”

Jeremiah flushed. Hard. “Watch it. I’ll burn you to a crisp.”

“You’d miss me too much,” Priest declared. He was halfway over to the bar before he really processed what Jeremiah had said before. “Hold the fuck up. What do you meanwe should be?”

Jeremiah sighed as he sat, rubbing a hand down his face. Being mated suited him, but he’d also been on edge since their rescue of Remi and his siblings, worried something else would pop up to try and take Remi away from him. Priest was pretty sure the terror of almost losing his fated mate had taken a few decades off the Hellhound’s life.

“Knight filled me in on the reported threats and disappearances, and I assigned Charlie Team to dig into them. But after tonight…” He exchanged a glance with Azriel that Priest didn’t like one bit. “We now know what to look for in the threats. Certain phrases and words. Particular targets.”

Priest had assumed the bookstore was related, but hearing Jeremiah agree rose the hairs on the back of his neck. Oliver and Poe had been targeted because of their proximity tohim. Because Priest hadn’t been able to stop himself from fixating on the sexy human.

How could Oliver ever forgive him?

“Why are they taking humans?” Priest asked absently, eyes turning upward, even though he couldn’t see Oliver’s slumbering body. “McCornal’s kid targeted Supes. Royals at that.”

“Half Supes,” Azriel corrected, pouring himself a large glass of liquor. “And half human.”

Jeremiah shook his head. “Considering how half-cocked most of those attempts were, I doubt daddy dearest was looped in on everything Thad was doing. He just took his cues from the hatred McCornal spewed and focused them on the one person he knew and could get to.”

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