Page 26 of Priest

Loudly.

“If you two wouldn’t mind,” Azriel said, voice more serious than usual, as Oliver jerked backward, only somewhat relieved when Priest let him that time. “I need to talk to Oliver. Alone.”

He whirled around to face the Angel, surprised to find him leaning against a bookshelf a good ten feet from the door. “How did you get here so fast?”

Azriel rolled his eyes and pushed himself upright, striding across the room with the same loose-hipped strut that always made Oliver a little uncomfortable no matter how long he knew him. “Used my wings, of course.”

“But…” He hadn’t felt a breeze like he usually did when Azriel used the invisible limbs to get around a little faster.

“Come along,” Azriel said, not pausing as he exited the room.

“Um.” Oliver bit his lip and turned to face Priest once again. “To be continued?”

His skittish Demon had retreated a few steps and was back to looking more awkward and less straight-up lustful.

Pity.

“Sure, if you want,” Priest said, a strained casualness in his tone. “Knight and Jeremiah will be here soon to give us an update.”

A surge of hope crashed through him. Would they bother coming to give an update if they didn’t have something important to share? Maybe they’d found a clue about where Poe was and finally believed him.

“Okay. If I’m still with Azriel when they get here, come and get me.” He retreated toward the door but turned back at the last minute, biting his lip and then giving Priest a soft smile. “Please?”

Priest’s throat bobbed, and the room sizzled around them. “I?—”

“Knock it off, you sex fiends!”

If Oliver didn’t like the Angel so much—and wasn’t more than a little scared of his powers—he’d kill him for his rotten timing.

Groaning, he spun away and marched out. His gut told him where to find Azriel, though he probably could have guessed. The den at the back of Priest’s house had an extensive wet bar. Sure enough, the Angel was lounging on the couch with a glass of brown liquid in hand. He was wearing his signature torn-to-hell jeans and a white T-shirt so thin and ratty there were holes near the collar and seams, and Oliver could see his nipples through the fabric.

It was not a look that should have worked, but combined with Azriel’s supernatural beauty, it really, really did.

“There you are.” He set the drink aside and patted the spot next to him on the couch.

Sighing, Oliver perched on the edge. “What’s going on?”

“I have a theory about what you are.” The Angel turned to face him more fully, brushing his bare knee against Oliver’s arm in the process.

He gasped and jerked away at the sharp, electric pain the brief contact had caused. “What the hell?”

“I think you mean what the heaven.”

“Azriel!” Oliver scrambled away from him, putting a solid two feet between them. “Why would you use your powers on me like that?”

Instead of even pretending to be sorry, the Angel smirked and sank his elbow into the back of the couch, resting his head on his fist. “I didn’t. I just didn’t protect you from them like I usually do. If you were one hundred percent human, it would have fried your brain inside your skull.”

Oliver jumped to his feet, fury building inside him. “You tried tokillme? What the hell is the matter with you!”

“Settle down, babe,” Azriel drawled, grabbing his glass and taking a noisy slurp. “There’s no need to get all dramatic about it. I was pretty sure you wouldn’t die, and you didn’t. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is not fine!”

Bright, glowing white eyes were suddenly right in front of his face, the air buffeting him from every side. The scent of magic and feathers was thick in the air, cooling his rage with a dose of bone-chilling fear. This was the side of Azriel that had always scared him but he’d rarely seen, and never directed at him. He became very aware of how weak and fragile he was compared to the fallen Angel.

But a small, ignored part of him woke up at the threat.

And it was pissed.

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