Page 37 of Priest

Priest raised his brow. “Why?”

“Because so far, we have dead bodies and missing bodies. Oliver’s the only one who’s survived an attack and is still here. If he was meant to die or be taken as well, whoever did this might come back for him.”

Priest’s stomach twisted. Fuck, Slate was right. He hadn’t sensed any danger around his place, but leaving Oliver alone might have been one giant mistake. Whoever was behind all this shit had to know he’d come running when he heard about another attack. “I need to go.”

“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked.

Priest was already backing away. “I left him there alone.”

“Your place is warded,” Knight started, then stopped, and his shoulders sagged. “Except that only works if he stays put, and he’s a flight risk, isn’t he?”

Priest didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and fled.

He broke every traffic law getting back to his place, and he flew through the door without ceremony. He could feel his Demon itching to come out. His eyes were black, the heat in the room growing, his claws stretching from his fingertips.

He wanted nothing more than to find his little human in his bed, still sleeping from their night together, but he couldn’t feel him.

Knight was right: the wards would have protected him. But his beloved was a man on a mission, and he would not be stopped.

And now he was gone.

10

OLIVER

Oliver hadn’t known where he was going to go, only that he had to get out now if he didn’t want Priest to come home and stop him. The note said he’d be gone a while, that he was free to use anything in the house, and to please not leave.

But Oliver, of course, wasn’t going to obey.

Not that order, anyway. He did make himself at home. He showered, he had a cup of tea, he found comfortable clothes that were kind on his body, which was still sore. But he also didn’t waste any time. He wasn’t trying to openly defy Priest, but he couldn’t sit by and do nothing.

It wasn’t a lack of patience; it was knowing that the Trident agents didn’t fully believe Poe was alive. The more time that passed, the more likely it was Poe wasn’t going to survive whatever he was going through. And Oliver did not want to live in a world without his best friend. He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t survive it.

He didn’t bother taking a car. There was a trolley stop a few blocks from the bookshop, and it seemed the most logical place to start. If he was part Angel, it wasn’t much, so he couldn’t rely on whatever new powers were cropping up. He wouldn’t beable to sniff Poe out, but maybe there was something the guys missed.

Something only he would notice. A message Poe left behind or… or… anything that would get him a step closer.

He thought he was prepared to see the damage, but the moment he rounded the corner and saw the rubble, he nearly fell to his knees. The shop was just that: brick and mortar, filled with ink and papers. It was a building full of things.

But they were his things. His and Poe’s. It was a lifetime of hard work, of getting to a place Oliver never thought he’d be, considering how he’d grown up. It was blood, sweat, tears, sleepless nights, and endless days reduced to nothing. And whoever had done this had taken one of the only people Oliver considered family.

He hadn’t let himself think about what Poe was going through, but it was getting harder and harder to avoid. He stepped past the hole that had once been the shop door and stared at the pieces of twisted metal that had been the frame for his glass counter.

The last time he’d paid attention to that space was when Priest was there. If he closed his eyes long enough, he could picture the moment perfectly—their almost kiss. The almost moment where Oliver thought he’d finally broken him down.

Only he hadn’t.

He’d run.

Priest wasn’t running now, but was it worth the price to have him if it meant this was his reality? The answer seemed simple enough. Oliver didn’t just like him. He didn’t just love him. It was more than that. It was something no words could describe. The feeling ran deep, through his soul. When Priest was holding him, kissing him, feeding on him, they were connected in a way Oliver hadn’t realized was possible.

Not that he had a lot of experience to go on, but he had enough.

There was something different happening. Something new.

And he was angry he wasn’t allowed to dwell on it because every second thinking about Priest was a second lost not finding his best friend.

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