Page 21 of Unholy

Luke’s eyes were glassy. “You’re a demon.”

“Yes,” Malachi said regretfully. “I don’t imagine you would be putting up such a fuss if I weren’t. But I also wouldn’t be here at all if I weren’t. I died centuries ago, I think, and not meeting you would’ve been the greatest regret of my short, stupid little life.”

“How do I know this isn’t some trick?” He sniffed hard, and Malachi softened. For how long had he been agonizing over this? Malachi never meant to cause him pain.

“Luke.” He stepped closer, until Luke’s back was to the stainless steel fridge and their bodies were lined up, not quite touching. “Set aside what you’ve been told by the guild for a moment, if you can. Close your eyes.”

With a shuddery sigh, Luke obeyed, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He was a hair taller than Malachi, but barefoot while Malachi had shoes on, they were eye to eye. Finally, Malachi let himself put his hands on Luke’s body. He flattened his hands against Luke’s hairy chest, biting his lip to silence his own cascading pleasure at the warmth ofLuke’s skin. He slid them slowly up, over the divots of his collarbones, the column of his neck, to cradle his face.

“Does anything about this really feel wrong? Setting aside what I am, have I done anything at any time to make you doubt my sincerity? Made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe?”

Luke’s brows furrowed, and Malachi stroked his cheeks with both thumbs.

He expected to be rebuffed again, but instead Luke’s clenched fists relaxed, reaching blindly for Malachi and sliding under his black T-shirt to grip his waist. He reeled him in, bringing their bodies flush, and kissed him.

One of Malachi’s hands slid around to the back of his head, fingers gripping hard and possessive, but the other remained gentle, stroking the undamaged side of his face—the side Malachi knew he could feel. Luke kissed like he was starving for it, open-mouthed and desperate. Malachi met him with equal fervor, slipping his tongue past Luke’s lips and greedily swallowing his quiet moan. He could get drunk off that sound alone.

When Luke was gasping, Malachi finally tore his mouth away to let him catch his breath, trailing kisses down the side of his neck. He longed to bite, to make his mark, but this was good. This was enough. He had Luke in his arms, Luke’s taste on his tongue, and nothing else mattered.

“No, no,” Luke groaned, fingers tangling in Malachi’s hair.

Aggravation flooded him. He wasso close. “I swear to yourfucking god, if you tell me to stop?—”

“No, just not that side. I want to feel you, and I can’t feel you there,” Luke said, tugging him over to the other side of his neck.

“Oh thank fuck.” He switched sides, rewarding Luke with a scraping bite that had the man keening under him.

“Wait, wait, no.”

A hand slapped against the fridge behind Luke’s head. “Luke, for fuck’s sake?—”

“Just don’t leave a mark where anyone cansee.”

“Right, right.” He leaned back to study his work so far. He didn’t think that bite would leave a mark. The reddened skin was already fading.

“Did you?” Luke asked, his brows raised as though waiting.

“No.”

“Good. Come here.” His big hands guided Malachi’s head in for another searing kiss. Malachi wanted to melt into him, sink in and never come back out.

The air fryer beeped, and Malachi parted from him with a groan. “The fucking food’s done.”

“Just leave it. It’ll be fine there.”

Malachi didn’t have to be told twice. His hands fell to Luke’s hips, dragging their bodies together. Luke’s hardness was obvious in his soft bottoms. He wanted to pick Luke up, wrap those powerful legs around his waist and thrust to his heart’s content.

“Let’s go somewhere horizontal,” he suggested between slick kisses. “Couch, bed, floor. I don’t care.”

Luke chuckled. They walked in a tangle of limbs to the sofa and collapsed onto it, Malachi cradled between Luke’s muscular thighs. Luke’s pajama pants were tented, and Malachi ducked his head, kissing a hot line down Luke’s chest. His hair trailed like black ribbons in his wake, and Luke’s fingers tangled in it, oh so gently.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, nipping and suckinga constellation of marks into his sun-kissed skin. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

“Yes,” Luke moaned.

Malachi made quick work of his pants and boxers, tossing both somewhere over his shoulder. Luke’s naked body was as glorious as he’d always imagined. Laid out like a feast in the dying sunlight streaming through the window above the sofa, his legs spread invitingly and his gaze on Malachi and only Malachi. He didn’t even care that the sunlight was uncomfortably bright, pricking against his skin. Luke looked too beautiful in it to move away.

“Fuck, I want to—” He squeezed his hands into fists so hard his rings bruised his fingers. He couldn’t say what he wanted to do. Things with Luke were so precarious. He couldn’t risk scaring him away.

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