Page 33 of Priest

His hands froze, and he looked up. “Of me?”

“Of what I am. Of what it means,” Oliver whispered.

Priest’s eyes closed in a slow blink as he continued to undress. He needed to feel Oliver’s skin against his own. He shuffled forward, bracketing Oliver’s hips with his knees, and he thrust his hips, his thick, needy cock rubbing against Oliver’s stomach.

“It changes nothing.” He pinched Oliver’s chin, careful not to prick his delicate skin. He might be part Angel, but he was still so human. He was so warm. So perfect. He dipped his head and knocked their foreheads together. “You’re still the man I fell for.”

Oliver’s breath trembled in his chest. “I want you. I can feel your hunger. I want to feed you.”

Priest shuddered. “Oliver?—”

“Let me. I’m strong. You know I’m strong.” His hands dug into Priest’s sides, urging him to fuck his hips forward. Oliver was rock hard, leaking at the tip, and Priest was desperate for a taste. “I can take it.”

Priest looked into his eyes and believed him. Fuck, he believed him. He stole a single, furious kiss before pulling away, and as Oliver made a noise of protest, Priest opened his mouth, grabbed Oliver’s cock, and took him down in a single swallow.

There was a beat of silence so thick Priest thought maybe he’d gone deaf. And then Oliver let out a noise so inhuman itcould have shattered glass if he’d been any louder. His Angel voice. Melodic, powerful, and, in this moment, wanton.

Priest sucked hard as he pulled up, dragging Oliver’s essence from the core of him. He tasted like summer, like wind, like rain. It rushed through his limbs, chasing away the edges of madness, sating hunger in ways he’d never been sated before.

Behind his closed lids, he saw something—two glowing threads, reaching for each other, not quite there, but somehow, he knew if they could touch, everything would be right.

It terrified him to his core.

He pulled away with a gasp, his eyes hot as he stared into Oliver’s, which were still bright but rimmed with dark black like his own. Then he blinked, and it was gone.

He and Oliver were both breathing heavily, and his heart was going a million miles a minute.

“Priest,” Oliver said, his voice thready.

He wanted to ask what the hell that was—and if Oliver had seen it too—but he was too far gone to his hunger. He pinned Oliver back with a hand to his throat, and then he gripped their cocks in his palm and began to stroke them.

He kept his gaze locked on Oliver as he fed on him. It flowed through him in every groan, every pant that Oliver gave.Beloved, he thought as he leaned in.My beloved. His forked tongue darted out, licking the sweat from Oliver’s skin, and then he tilted his head back and took his mouth.

Come for me, little human. Little Angel. Come for me.

Oliver’s body began to shake as his orgasm raced through him. Priest could see nothing, feel nothing except the waves of pleasure that were giving him the strength he needed. He could see Oliver’s soul, bright and wild and different to anyone Priest had ever fed on. It was warm. It enveloped him, cradled him. It nourished him in ways nothing ever had.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he was taking something from someone. No. He was being given this gift. This power. This strength.

He was only peripherally aware of his own climax—of hot ropes of come spilling on their dicks as he stroked them. And it was only when Oliver moaned in genuine pain that Priest let go with a gasp. His hands trembled as his vision returned.

Oliver was pale.

“Sweetheart—”

“No,” Oliver said. His voice was still strong. He opened his eyes, and they were bright Angel blue. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

Priest collapsed against him, rolling them to the side and wrapping around him like he was afraid to let go. “Promise me you won’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Priest buried his face in the back of Oliver’s neck. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

He heard Oliver’s smile in his happy hum, and he grinned when Oliver nuzzled back against him. “For as long as you want.”

For as long as he wanted was a lie, but it wasn’t Oliver’s fault. His beloved was still dead to the world when Priest woke, and it took him a second to realize it was his phone. He attempted to ignore it, but when it buzzed a dozen more times, he finally grabbed it off the nightstand and extracted himself from the only place he wanted to be.

Still naked, he shuffled out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen as he answered. “This better be fucking good.”

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