Page 20 of Priest

“I didn’t make a mess,” Oliver said dryly.

Priest smiled. “You’re pretty grumpy in the morning.”

He was only slightly disappointed to see that Oliver had managed to get out and then back into his sweats. But Oliver did deserve dignity, and Priest was a little more careful when lifting him and walking him back into the bedroom. He gingerly placed him against the pillows, then tried to fluff them until Oliver sighed heavily.

“I’m usually not,” he said, pulling the covers over his legs and smoothing his hands over his thighs a few times. “Poe always…” He swallowed. “He says it’s annoying how cheerful I am, but now he’s missing and I can’tmoveand it’s… it’s just all a lot.”

“Oliver…” He shook his head, deciding against addressing his insistence about Poe still being alive. Instead, he lowered his gaze to Oliver’s legs. “They’ll get better. Azriel said it’ll take some time. That’s why we’re here.”

“At your place,” Oliver said slowly, glancing around with a frown.

Priest knew his bedroom was a bit sterile and lacking in personality, but it was hard to give a shit about the place he rarely had the chance to do more than pass out in. His job came with some fantastic perks, but they didn’t feel like luxury when being inside the town house, only made the loneliness more profound.

He was better off staying at HQ and entertaining himself by pestering his teammates when he wasn’t working.

“It’s the only place right now with wards strong enough to fend off whoever’s after you,” Priest said. He walked around to the edge of the bed and carefully nudged the tray closer. When Oliver didn’t react, he nudged it closer still. Then closer, until it hit his hip.

Oliver startled and looked down. “Uh. Are you eating some of this?”

“No, no. I’ll eat later. I made this for you. You need to refuel your body to help you heal.”

Oliver stared at the tray and then glanced up at him, lips pressed together but the corners twitching in a way that made Priest think he was trying not to laugh at him. “But you made enough for, like, twelve people.”

Priest offered a sheepish smile, his face heating. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know how much you ate. I thought you needed it for, you know, healing.”

Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then he took a breath. “Thank you, Priest. It’ll help.”

Priest preened a little, puffing out his chest. He felt like a godsdamned peacock, but he couldn’t help it. Something about Oliver’s careful praise went straight to his core and made him all… hot. It was a very new feeling. His gaze fell on Oliver again as he dug his fingers into an orange and ripped it in half without peeling it.

Fuck.

Why was that so…

“Do you know why they’re after me?” Oliver asked, the fear in his voice eclipsing whatever Priest had been feeling.

He flopped his arms at his sides. “Not exactly. We’re pretty sure it’s related to what happened to the crown prince and his siblings and the vague threats we’ve been receiving since, but we don’t have any solid leads yet. The best thing we can do is keep you safe while we continue to investigate.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes on him. “What does that mean? Not exactly.”

“Um.” Stomach twisting, Priest glanced away. “It’spossibleyou were targeted because of me.”

The silence in the room was suffocating, and he couldn’t help but look back at Oliver to try and gauge his reaction. He was sitting frozen, his scent a strange mix of shock, anger, and sorrow. When he pinned Priest with a hard stare, he flinched away.

“Because of you how?”

“Whoever did this, they might have been watching me, us. They would have seen the way I… well. They may have thought you were connected to the team from how often I stop by.” Priest cleared his throat, reaching over and grabbing a cup from the tray and pouring himself some coffee.

Oliver watched his restless movements. “And you think these people who did this, that they’re connected to what happened to Prince Remington?”

Priest nodded slowly, taking a careful sip. “Seems likely. I can’t share everything at this point, but yeah. It’s too big of a coincidence.”

He stared at the orange in his hands for a long, excruciating moment, Priest’s heart racing in his chest, and then Oliver shook his head. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Oliver—”

His sharp eyes landed on Priest, silencing him. “No. You haven’t been around in weeks, and even before that, it was sporadic and short visits. If these assholes were watching you, me and my shop aren’t the way to hit back at you and your team.”

“But—”

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