Page 47 of Unholy

“Moderately-sized? You flatter me.” His hands swept up and down Luke’s arms. “How do you feel?”

He paused to consider his answer. “Fuzzy. Pleasantly fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy is good. Come here.” He manhandled Luke up and oriented him toward the head of the bed, guiding him to lay between Malachi’s parted legs. He barely noticed he was still wearing the wrist and ankle cuffs, resting his head on Malachi’s chest with a dreamy sigh.

Malachi leaned over, rummaging in the side table drawer and coming out with a packet of wet wipes.

“Handy,” Luke murmured.

“Mm. Here, let me clean you up.” He tenderly cleaned the cum from Luke’s chest, stomach, and softened cock. “Spread ‘em, treasure.”

Luke snorted out a laugh, letting Malachi clean between his legs. “Thanks.”

He tossed the wipe away and pulled the blankets over them both, wrapping his arms around Luke. “Just float, baby. I’ll be right here when you come back down.”

Luke sighed in contentment. “‘Kay.”

After a morningof training drills and spars with some other paladins, Luke made his way to the cafeteria in the admin building for lunch. He’d prefer to go home, which was exactly why he needed to stay. He used to eat most of his meals here, and he needed to stick to his normal routine, no matter how much he’d rather rush home to be with Malachi.

Heat flushed through him when he thought of the demon. Surrendering to him had been… incredible. He’d never felt so safe, so wanted and… loved. Could demons love? Malachi certainly treated him like he did. Maybe it wasn’t traditional love, but did that matter? Luke could never have a traditional life, knowing the things he did. He didn’t want the partner-and-kids-and-picket-fence life. How could he bring helpless children into the world, knowing what horrors lurked in the shadows? He didn’t want to raise children to be warriors like him, never wanted to see scars on young faces. Perhaps other paladins felt the need to pass on the demon-fighting legacy, but not him. He couldn’t do that to a child, knowing he was raising them to be hurt, to struggle, to face untold horrors. He couldn’t turn his back on the things he knew, but that didn’t mean he had to subject an innocent to it, as well.

He picked morosely at his food, his head propped up on his fist. If he felt this way about it all, maybe it was time to consider stepping back. It would be safer for both him and Malachi if he wasn’t active in the guild anymore. They would have no reason to scrutinize him if he retired. No one would bat an eye at his decision. He’d avoided rejoining a squad since he lost his last one. Maxwell had even floated the ideaof early retirement before finally approving him for the field once more—which Luke had pushed for at the time, because he thought it was what he wanted. He didn’t have anything else pulling him from the fight except his injuries. Now he had Malachi.

A figure plopped down beside him, and he turned in surprise. He recognized the man, with his long, chocolate curls tied back in a messy bun and warm brown eyes that seemed somehow both too knowing and uncertain. He had no lunch plate, just a cup of black coffee. Luke wracked his brain for a name.

“You look familiar, have we spoken before?” Luke asked.

“Ira,” the man supplied. “And no, we haven’t.”

“Are you a paladin?”

“No.” The uncertainty vanished as he met Luke’s eyes. “Prophet.”

A prickle of unease went down his spine. God, theprophets.They could see things no one else could. What good was it to hide his relationship with Malachi when the prophets could see it at any time? All it would take was one random vision, and both their lives were over.

“Relax,” Ira said. His voice was level and soothing. “I mean you no harm.”

Luke swallowed hard, turning to stare blindly at his plate.Act normal, he thought desperately. He didn’t know what Ira knew yet. There was no reason to panic.

“I can’t be seen eating while I’m here,” Ira said lowly, his tone conversational. His fingers slowly turned his coffee cup, the black liquid sloshing gently as he fidgeted with it. “I need them to think I’m trying to force a vision, because I haven’t logged one since Hawk was banished.”

Luke dared to glance over. Yes, he’d heard that fasting was one way prophets spurred visions. Ira was telling him he was basically lying to the guild right now, pretending that he was attempting to have a vision when he really wasn’t. It was an olive branch, and it settled Luke’s nerves. Ira was confessing to him that he also had secrets. By sharing one of them with Luke, he was putting them on even footing.

“So why haven’t you logged any?” he asked.

“Because I fear many people would die if I logged the things I’d been seeing.” His gaze swept across the crowd. No one was near enough to overhear them. Warm sunlight filtered in through the stained glass windows on their left.

Luke met Ira’s eyes. “What kinds of things?”

“Demons. And humans. Together.” Ira’s cheeks darkened, and Luke flushed in response. Exactly what intimate things had Ira seen? Had he seen Luke and Malachi together? Part of him wanted to ask. The rest of him thought he was probably better off living in ignorance. The bigger question was…

“Why wouldn’t you report something like that?”

Ira’s gaze flitted away, and Luke suddenly understood. He couldn’t report it without implicating himself, because he’d seenhimselfwith a demon.

Ira cleared his throat. “There are… some things I can’t share. Telling any of you would risk changing things. I have only a small piece of the puzzle so far. It’s like… looking at a tapestry in the dark with only a flashlight. I can only see a small portion at a time.”

“You haven’t told meanything,” Luke pointed out.

---