Page 16 of Priest

Oliver managed to roll his eyes before they slipped shut again. “M’not stupid.”

“Of course not. Well, he’s been a little reluctant to take someone upstairs for a while now, and I think I know why.” Azriel gave him a little pat again, and in spite of the potion doing an amazing job, Oliver still got what he was saying.

He blindly swatted at the Angel. “Lies. Wouldn’t even kiss me.”

“That’s probably because he’s afraid to drain you, darling. Priest doesn’t feed on humans. Too fragile.”

“M’strong,” Oliver mumbled. He was drifting now. Azriel was there, but so was Priest. He was naked and gorgeous, and his eyes looked like he was starving for Oliver. A warmth pooled in his chest—something tugging at him a little like his feelings about Poe, except entirely different. When Priest got close, it felt like he was the other half to Oliver’s whole, and they fit together like they were fated to be.

Which was impossible. Humans didn’t have mates, and Incubi rarely even fed on them, let alone allowed a true bond to form.

So it was nothing more than a lovely dream.

“Rest well,” Azriel said off in the distance.

Oliver tried to answer him, but he was too busy reaching for dream-Priest, who was there and willing, unafraid, and most definitely not going to run.

5

PRIEST

“S

o,” Azriel said, folding his hands under his chin.

“Eat shit and die,” Priest muttered without feeling.

“That is so not nice to say to the Angel that saved your precious human.” Azriel leaned back on the barstool, kicking his feet up on another one. The club was closed, which was a bizarre feeling being in there without the pulse of booze and sex floating around him. It was a terrible way for Priest to realize how hungry he was.

And that was the reason why he hadn’t gone back upstairs.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to chase off his irritation, but it was next to impossible with his hunger clawing at his insides. He was not far from begging Azriel to bring in one of the dancers so he could feed enough that he could stand Oliver’s smell without jumping him. He shouldn’t have let it get this bad. If he couldn’t handle feeding in person, he should have slipped into a dream of one of his regulars and siphoned off enough to hold him over.

But it hadn’t feltright. And now, he was fucked.

“Have a drink,” Azriel said after a beat. When Priest didn’t move, he sighed and stood, propping his ass on the bar and spinning around. He dropped to the floor, and Priest couldn’t help but watch him.

He was literal grace, the way he moved. His feet were light, like his wings were carrying him, though Priest knew that wasn’t the case. Not for this Angel. Still, he was ethereal, and being around him sometimes made Priest feel every bit the Demon humans thought he was.

Well, most humans.

Never Oliver.

His chest burned with the need to run upstairs and cradle Oliver close to his body. He was still healing though, and Priest’s presence wasn’t going to do him any favors. Whatever Azriel had done to save Oliver’s life made it impossible for Priest to use his Demonic abilities to try and heal him further. He was basically shrouded in Angelic magic for the time being, and that didn’t mix with his own. So he was starving, feeling useless, but unable to leave the premises while Oliver was unconscious and helpless upstairs.

He startled in his seat when a glass appeared in front of him, and he stared down at it. It was pale, opaque, and kind of glittery.

“The hell is this?”

“Just drink it. You’ll thank me later,” Azriel said.

Priest did trust his friend, so he tipped back a long swallow, and while he was expecting to taste something like pine or almonds—his least two favorite things; they were equally terrible—instead, it tasted a little floral and barely sweet.

And suddenly, his hunger abated.

“It won’t help long term,” Azriel said before Priest could get any ideas. “But it’ll take the edge off for a while. There’s just a small caveat.”

Priest sighed. “It’s going to make me ravenous when it wears off, isn’t it?”

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