Page 6 of Priest

Behind him, Poe snorted and set the tea down. “Yeah, he’s totally not a stalker. Never mind him randomly showing up at a grocery store where you happened to be shopping. Or the kebab place. Or the?—”

Oliver cleared his throat, cutting Poe off. “Correlation is not causation.”

“Oh, my love, that’s not what that phrase means.” Poe slung an arm around Oliver, jolting him hard enough that he choked on his swallow of water. “And denial is not really a cute look on you. I’m sorry he totally ditched you though.”

Oliver flinched, the words cutting deeper than Poe meant them to. He let out a bone-deep sigh and sank into one of their kitchen chairs, staring out the window. The apartment was above the shop, and it had an amazing view of the city. Therewas a little peekaboo strip of ocean on the horizon, and usually, Oliver could sit out on their tiny, one-chair terrace and feel at peace.

But not today.

“I just don’t get it, you know?” Oliver said as Poe hopped up on the counter and tapped a little pattern against the cabinet with his bare heels. “He flirts with me for weeks.”

“Months. Almost a damn year,” Poe pointed out.

Oliver rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t exactly argue with that. He just hadn’t noticed until both Poe and Azriel pointed it out. For far too long, Oliver thought he was just quietly pining and that Priest was just… nice. That was probably why he was a pathetic, single loner who hadn’t had a hookup, much less a boyfriend, in years.

“I know what you’re thinking, and stop,” Poe said. “You’re a catch, and he’s a Demon. If there’s anything defunct about this whole thing, it’s him.”

“That’s not very kind,” Oliver said quietly.

Poe shrugged, not looking sorry. “You’re sitting here alone on your one day off, sad because he strung you along and then ghosted you without a word.”

“He was working,” Oliver defended weakly. Working hadn’t stopped Priest before when he wanted to come to Azriel’s to feed, and he’d never failed to stop in at the shop. At least, not until now. But Azriel swore up and down he hadn’t heard from Priest since the last time he’d been in and then come over to the shop and nearly kissed Oliver, and he knew the Angel wouldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

Poe bit his lip, his expression torn, and then his shoulders sagged. “I just hate seeing you waste your time. You’re my brother, and I want you to be happy.”

“I’m not unhappy,” Oliver told him gently, and that was true. He wanted to be in love. Meeting someone and having a lifetogether had always been a goal of his. But it wasn’t something he needed to survive.

More than anyone, Oliver knew what unhappiness felt like. He’d grown up unloved, trapped in a family with a vendetta against every supernatural community. He’d spent his formative years surrounded by hateful bigotry and rhetoric, and none of it had ever made sense. Their views terrified him to the point that at sixteen, when he realized he would never be like them, he ran.

It was his only escape. If he’d stayed—if they’d found out about him—he wasn’t sure he’d ever see the light of day again. He’d heard rumors of other people in their little community, young like him with minds of their own, who went missing and never returned.

Oliver wasn’t going to let that happen to him.

Shortly after he’d run, he understood what being cold was like. And what hunger truly was. He learned how to pickpocket and shoplift to make it from one day to the next, hating himself a little more each day. There was little sanctuary for humans outside of his own borders, but just before his seventeenth birthday, Poe found him.

Oliver was huddled against the tide wall near the touristy beach in Midlona, trying to blend in. He’d bathed in the sea and was hoping he could just get a little peace—a little rest. Then Poe had stumbled into him, literally, and for whatever reason, he hadn’t left Oliver’s side again.

He dragged Oliver back to his house, where he had his first real meal and a shower in months. Poe’s mom put on a strong face, but he could see the anger in her eyes, and he thought maybe he was all wrong here too. But when he offered to leave, she just put her arms around him and told him he’d always have a place to land if he ever fell.

Then she asked him not to go.

Oliver hadn’t realized what it was like to be loved—truly loved—until that moment. He watched Poe’s family dynamic, and he realized he fit. There was no hatred or bigotry at the dinner table. Poe’s parents were both activists working in Midlona and the surrounding kingdoms, frustrated at their lack of progress but never losing hope.

And Oliver knew he was home.

He and Poe had settled into their life, running the bookshop and sharing their tiny apartment. He could never, ever call this miserable, even if his heart was aching now. Even if he still believed he was the one who was all wrong somehow.

“Seriously, drink some tea,” Poe said, dragging Oliver out of his thoughts.

Oliver blinked, then shook his head. “I don’t want tea. I want to get laid.”

“You literally have a Guardian Angel who owns a strip club and has fucked half of Midlona,” Poe told him dryly. “If you want to get laid, I can help you with that. Or hell, you can go next door and pick up one of the Angel’s patrons.”

Oliver flushed, but he didn’t bother telling Poe that he didn’t want to be fucked by just anyone. He wanted to be ravaged by an awkward Incubus, and that was apparently not going to happen anytime soon.

Or ever.

“Am I hideous?” he asked.

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