Page 49 of Priest

“No,” Priest said clearly, “and when he told his parents…”

“They disavowed him,” Oliver finished for him.

“Essentially. He’s not welcome in his parents’ home anymore. His mothers and fathers are unwilling to bend in their belief that it’s just a phase.”

Oliver shook his head, his lip curled up in disgust. “How anyone could think that about their own child…”

“It’s more common than you’d think. Humans aren’t the only ones who can be intolerant,” Priest said, thinking about him and Jeremiah both being cast aside as children. And so many othersthey encountered in the same circumstances. “Anyway, that’s why he sometimes prefers to keep the Alpha Team—his chosen family—away from his brother’s Hoard.”

“Even though Flint accepts him for who he is?”

“He didn’t at first, but eventually, he came around,” Priest said, leading him down the hallway in the opposite direction of the Hoard’s bedroom on the other side of the house. “They’ve talked a lot, and I think Flint’s mates have also helped him, especially after what happened.”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.

Priest found the bedroom he’d used the last time he was in the house. The door was cracked open, and a warm light was on inside. He pushed it the rest of the way open and stepped back so Oliver could go in first. He followed right behind and kicked the door shut behind him, dropping their bags at the foot of the enormous bed that was taking up the majority of the large room.

“They had a fifth mate,” Priest said, his voice stark. “They don’t talk about what happened to him, and Storm has never told us. I don’t know if he even knows the details. I don’t think they even know if he’s dead or alive.”

Oliver clapped his hands over his mouth. “Dear gods, they don’t know if he’s alive?”

“I don’t think so. According to Storm, that’s why Rorick is as standoffish as he is. He was the closest to their lost mate, and he was never able to get past it. Not that the others have moved on, but they’ve found a way to cope. Rorick… he’s stuck.”

“That’s so sad,” Oliver whispered. “I can’t even imagine.”

Priest couldn’t either. Now that he had found Oliver, he couldn’t imagine losing him. Not knowing where he was or what was happening with him, if he was safe or if he was scared and in pain.

The not knowing would be worse than knowing for sure he’d never see him again.

Oliver sniffled and held his arms out. “Will you lay with me for a little while? I just… I need to hold you after hearing that for some reason. I need us to be as close as possible.”

Priest’s Demon rumbled in his chest. “I need that too, little human.”

14

OLIVER

“Y

ou’re part Angel, alright,” Caspian said, peering at one of his large monitors through his thick-rimmed glasses. His wavy hair looked a little overgrown, and there was at least two days’ worth of stubble on his face, but he still managed to make the lookwork.

“Was that really in doubt?” Priest asked, trying to peer over his shoulder. Oliver wasn’t sure why he was bothering. He’d learned over dinner the night before that the Dragon had not one buttwoPhDs and was a geneticist. There was no way either one of them would be able to understand the results of the tests Caspian had run overnight.

“In doubt? No,” Caspian said, scrolling through whatever information was on his screen. “But I don’t like to deal with assumptions. I like to know all of the facts so I can build the appropriate parameters for the experiment.”

“Experiment?” Oliver said loudly, drawing both of their attention to where he was leaning over the continental map spread out on one of Caspian’s workstations. He was supposedto be focusing on it to see if he could pinpoint where Poe might be, but he hadn’t gotten so much as a tingle in his toes so far.

Caspian glanced over at him, a tiny frown between his brows. He was the palest of his mates, a smattering of freckles on his cheeks the only real color. Both he and Rorick were white, but it was clear Caspian spentfarless time outside in the sun. Their other mate, Tamir, had a tawny skin tone somewhere between Flint’s dark umber and Rorick’s taupe.

“‘Experiment’ might have been the wrong word,” Caspian conceded slowly, tugging at the bottom of his sweater vest. “‘Testing’ would be more accurate in this case. Either way, your angelic friend, Azriel, was right. Somewhere in your recent lineage, a fallen Angel bred a human.”

Oliver scrunched up his face. “Bred? Really? That’s gross.”

Priest spun around, but Oliver still heard his muffled snickering.

“And since then,” Caspian continued, not acknowledging either one of them. Oliver had a feeling he was used to interruptions from his mates and was unfazed by them. “From one generation to the next, the angelic blood was there, building in the background. Unlike other supernatural creatures, the more angelic DNA mixes with human, the stronger it becomes.”

Eyes feeling like they might fall out of his head, Oliver stared at him. “So, like, I’m stronger than Azriel?”

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