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 SWEET SURRENDER: Sweet Demons Book 2
Copyright © 2024 Viano Oniomoh
All rights reserved.
Cover, Interior Design, and Illustrations by Viano Oniomoh
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
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by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, brands, media, incidents, and events in this
publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and are the products of the
author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely
coincidental.
For more information, visit vianooniomoh.com
Published by Viano Oniomoh After Dark.
Paperback ISBN: 9798325556906
Hardcover ISBN: 9798325557255

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To everyone still waiting to feel safe enough to surrender.

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 CONTENT NOTES

For all who might need it; this book contains the following content that may be upsetting for
some readers:
Stalking and harassment; animal death; animal abuse; brief mentions/references to child emotional abuse;
mentions, discussions, and depictions of murder; mentions, discussions, and references to slavery and
imprisonment (as a past event); alcohol consumption; brief drug use (marijuana); references to magical
drug use; religious imagery; religious trauma; PTSD; blood drinking; mentions, references, and depictions
of a religious cult; violence; gore; brief threat of corporal punishment; (blink and you’ll miss it)
dominance/submission; and explicit sex scenes, which include (but are not limited to) condomless sex,
primal play, dubious consent and/or consensual non-consent.
If I’ve missed any warnings, please feel free to contact me and I will add them ASAP. Thank you!
Take care of yourselves!
With that, I hope you enjoy the story!
~Vee.

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 CONTENTS

CONTENT NOTES
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgements
Also by Viano Oniomoh
Exclusive Content on Patreon
Subscribe to Viano’s Newsletter
About the Author
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 ONE

When Knight opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the middle of a
clearing in a familiar forest. His lips twitched as the summoning circle
underneath his feet slowly faded, then disappeared. It was dark, and the night
looked and sounded odd as it always did in this particular dreamscape, possibly
because it was created from a mix of his subconscious and the human’s.
Speaking of the human ...
Knight’s blood red eyes began to glow as he took a long, slow inhale. The
scent wasn’t real—not like it would’ve been had this been happening outside of
the dreamscape—but it still made his lower belly clench and his mouth water.
Almighty, what he wouldn’t give to actually smell his prey instead of this
imagined approximation.
When he was sure he’d grasped the scent, he confidently stepped out of the
clearing, disappearing into the trees. He made sure to step deliberately on
crunchy leaves and other debris, his progress loud and obvious. On cue, the
scent in the air spiked with the sharp tang of fear and that of syrupy delicious
anticipation.
Knight’s lip quirked. He didn’t run. Not yet. All his other senses sharpened
instead, his ears filtering out the noise of the forest until it narrowed in on the
human’s panting breath, his near-silent race through the trees ahead; his nostrils
flared, his olfactory sensors so sharp he could smell the human’s sweat, could
taste it as it filtered down to the back of his throat—salt and sour, anticipation
and arousal.
When he was sure the human had put enough space between them, he began
to jog. The longer and harder the chase, the more mind-numbingly intense the
release was going to be. And after the stress of the past few days, he desperately
needed that relief. The human probably did, too, which was why they were both
here.
A few more moments, and he began to run. It didn’t take long before he’d
closed the gap.
The human inhaled sharply when he glanced behind him and spotted the
demon, a dark shadow within the depths of the trees. His scent spiked again
with that delicious mix of fear and arousal.
A cliff’s face appeared before him, its surface crawling with thick vines.
He didn’t hesitate, grabbing the vines and beginning to frantically climb.
“Do we always have to play this game?” Knight recited, projecting his voice so
it sounded like he was purring directly in the human’s ear.
The human jolted and nearly lost his grip, crying out but managing to grasp
onto a vine before he crashed to the ground.
“You know I’m only toying with you, right?” Knight continued, his voice still
in that low, dark purr. On his next sentence, he projected his voice so it sounded
like it was reverberating directly inside the human’s brain: “We both know I’m
only letting you run.”
The human’s breath hitched, his scent spiking again—more arousal than fear,
this time—but he didn’t otherwise react.
Knight stopped when he was at the bottom of the cliff’s face, enjoying the
view of the human’s full backside, his lovely, shapely legs in thin cotton trousers
as they tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, his hands practically yanking him
to the top. Knight inhaled deeply, swallowing back a growl. Fuck, he smelled so
fucking good. Like a forbidden dessert Knight couldn’t wait to devour.
Just as the human finally pulled himself up to disappear from view onto the
ground above, Knight simply blinked. He disappeared, then reappeared in front
of the human at the top.
 The human screamed, nearly falling backwards. Knight bared his fangs,
knowing his teeth gleamed against his dark, purple skin, his red eyes glowing
sickly and bright.
“Hello, little rabbit,” he whispered.
The human scrambled to his feet. Knight only just managed to duck when a
rock was lobbed in his direction, before the human ran straight for the trees.
Knight gave him a moment, then he began to run, too, deliberately matching
the human’s speed instead of using his own supernatural skills.
A creek appeared, and the human’s scent spiked again, even though he didn’t
hesitate, running straight into the rushing water, arms held aloft as he waded as
quickly as he could for the other side.
He glanced behind him, his thundering heartbeat stuttering when he found
Knight just standing there on the riverbank, watching him.
When he finally made it to dry ground once more, glancing again behind
him, Knight used his magic between one blink and the next to appear in front of
him.
The human cried out. Knight grabbed him by the waist and yanked him up,
into his arms. The human wasn’t a small creature by any means, tall with meat
thick on his bones, and Knight could tell—even from the approximate scents in
the dreamscape—the human loved the fact that Knight could move him about
like he weighed nothing.
“Fuck off,” he snarled, beginning to struggle and kick. “Let me go!”
“Okay,” Knight said brightly, abruptly dropping him.
He gasped, only just managing to catch himself on his feet. Knight pretended
not to smell the disappointment and the brief pang of annoyance in the air,
grinning wider when the human spun around and ran right back into the creek.
He’d made it about halfway through, the water about midriff height, when
Knight teleported to him, his surprised shout echoing through the trees as
Knight seized him from behind.
He tried to kick his leg backward, but Knight used his magic to clamp those
thick, sexy thighs together, immobilising him. He tried to use his hands, and
Knight grabbed those, too, using his left hand to pin the human’s wrists to his
broad chest, which was heaving with exertion.
 “Enjoyed the chase, little rabbit?” Knight wasn’t sure what a rabbit was. On
the first night they’d done this, what felt like so long ago, a song had been
blasting through the human’s dreamscape, a soft, slightly distorted voice
crooning at a “rabbit” to “run, run, run.”
The first time Knight had understood the game, when he’d purred, “Hello,
little rabbit,” into his ear, the human had practically come right there and then.
“Fuck you,” the human panted now, though he wasn’t struggling anymore.
He was probably too tired to struggle, which was how they both liked it.
But to be certain—because this wouldn’t be fun for him unless the human
was enjoying himself, too—he used his magic to tune into the human’s
subconscious, connecting them telepathically. It wouldn’t let Knight read his
mind or vice versa, just let them be able to mentally communicate.
Hello, little rabbit.
The human’s heartbeat skittered. H-Hello.
Enjoying yourself?
Yes. Please. Don’t stop.
Knight’s blood rushed with euphoria.
Out loud, he laughed. “Now—” His voice had deepened without his control
“—I get to claim my prize.”
The human’s heartbeat hammered frantically as Knight slid a hand down his
round belly, into the water and down the little curve of his hip, then between
those wonderfully thick thighs until he was cupping the straining length at the
apex of his legs.
“Oh God,” the human cried, his knees nearly buckling, only Knight’s hold on
him seemingly keeping him upright. “Oh fuck, oh please—”
“Begging already?” Knight taunted, stroking him so lightly every inch of the
human tensed with desperation.
“Please,” he continued shamelessly. “Oh please—”
“Please what?” Knight asked darkly.
“I-I’ve been good, I’ve been so good—I need—”
Fuck, how could Knight resist? The dreamscape read both their intentions,
and the human’s clothes, along with Knight’s robes, disappeared.
 Knight ground his hard length against the human’s back while he wrapped
his fist around his throbbing, leaking dick. Moonlight glittered on the surface of
the water, making the obscene sight of Knight’s hand on his human’s dick look
almost romantic.
He began to stroke, fast and hard and firm until the human was shaking and
sobbing, lifting onto his toes as Knight brutally brought him to the edge.
“Fuck. Knight!” he screamed as he came, his release washed away by the
stream.
The name had been a gift, too, from one of those first nights—a quick
thought that had flitted through the dreamscape, the human softly but saucily
referring to him as his “knight in shining armour”.
Knight teleported them out of the water and into the clearing where the
game had begun. He loosened his magic hold, and the human immediately
melted into the carpet of sinfully soft grass underneath them, arching his back,
his backside raised high, thighs spread wantonly. His hole was already wet and
stretched and glistening, the dreamscape adjusting to his desires.
So Knight didn’t waste time. He placed a hand on the human’s upper back,
holding him down, the other cupping his hip, then he sank to the hilt inside him
with one smooth thrust.
“Yes,” the human cried. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck—yes, yes, yes—” He wailed,
each word punctuated with a hard snap of Knight’s hips.
When he tried to reach between his legs, Knight snarled, “No,” using his
magic to yank the human’s hands above his head, wrists pressed together.
“That’s mine.”
“Oh fuck,” the human cried, his asshole clenching sinfully around Knight’s
aching dick.
“Shit,” Knight snarled, pounding into him harder, watching his cheeks dance.
He braced both hands on the human’s hips, yanking him back into each thrust.
Sweat shone on the human’s back and ass, glittering like miniscule jewels on
his deep, warm brown skin. The thick curls of his afro called to Knight, and he
was sinking his right hand into its depths before he’d even thought it through,
yanking the human up so he was braced on only his knees, intensifying the arch
of his back. His hands, still bound in Knight’s magic hold, were held aloft above
his head.
Knight slammed viciously into him, taking his pleasure. He slid his tail
between the human’s legs, lightly caressing his balls, making him whine and arch
into the teasing touch. Then he nipped at his ear with sharp, fanged teeth, and
that was seemingly the last straw.
The human went silent, his arse clamping down hard and tight as he came,
just like that. Knight couldn’t help but follow, gasping, filling him up with his
release, almost sobbing at the intensity of it.
He’d barely ridden through the last of the waves when he was suddenly
yanked out of the dreamscape, gasping like a fish out of water. For a moment, he
didn’t know where he was, the bliss of his release quickly replaced with bone-
chilling panic.
“We need to go.” A familiar demon was standing above him, her jaw tight
with strain, her riotous pink curls falling over her face and shoulders, wavy horns
pointing to sky. “Get the fuck up, Cunning; we need to go. Now!”
Knight scrambled to his feet. “What’s happening?”
All around him, in the dilapidated building of an abandoned sect which he’d
briefly called home, the other nicquiris were grabbing what little belongings they
had before spreading their wings and taking flight, leaping up into the air past
the broken roof, disappearing into the clouds.
“Sentries,” Pink said, making Knight’s heart jolt and start hammering. No.
How had they caught up so soon? Pink bent her knees and spread her wings.
“Are you ready?”
Knight didn’t have much; just a couple of robes and other necessities which
he never took out of his bag. He grabbed it, holding it tight. “Ready.”
They leapt into the air.
Knight glanced behind him just as the sentries burst into the building below.
Where nicquiris like himself had differing shades of purple skin, the sentries’
skins were in ranges of wine red, their wings leathery with spines, instead of full
of feathers.
Knight watched, heart in his throat, as the cold-hearted demons managed to
capture a few stragglers before they could escape, with the aim to drag them back
to whatever sect had sent them on the hunt.
He took a second to mourn his fallen brethren; they hadn’t been a true sect,
but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been something of a family.
Knight faced his front, following Pink, and wondered if all this running and
hiding really was going to be the rest of his life.

Saint jolted awake before he was ready to, his heart hammering, lips parted on a
silent cry as he rode his orgasm to its unsatisfactory end. He sank into the
mattress when it was over, sighing heavily as he reoriented himself to the real
world, one hand falling to his chest as if to stop his heart from pounding so hard,
the other collapsing onto the mattress.
That had been ...
Odd. He didn’t have that particular dream often—yes, it was just a dream, he
told himself stubbornly, despite all evidence that pointed to the contrary—but
he’d had it enough times to know that the demon always performed some sort of
aftercare afterward. They cuddled. The demon stroked his hair and fed him
empty platitudes until he fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, he’d be
back in his bed, a smile on his lips, a thin veneer of brightness painted over his
semi-disappointing life.
The demon had never just ... disappeared, completely without warning. Not
that Saint cared all that much, considering that it wasn’t fucking real.
He searched around his sheets. A glance at his phone screen told him it was
nearing five AM. Was there a point in going back to sleep?
Besides, some part of him felt irritated. The very least his dreams could do was
let him have his stress-relief before abruptly jolting him out of it just as he was on
the cusp of it.
He had another jerk-off session while he was in the shower, desperately
needing some kind of endorphin rush. He clenched his eyes shut and thought of
magical restraints around his thighs and wrists as he pulled fast and hard on his
dick, before coming—once again, unsatisfactorily—down the drain.
That second disappointing orgasm seemed to set the tone for the rest of his
day. He had a quick breakfast of oatmeal and toast, then grabbed a keke to his
shift at Abinbo Primary School.
He greeted all the parents who came to drop their kids, even the ones who
looked down their noses at him. He gave high fives to the kids who loved him,
and hugs to those whose parents permitted it. His throat thickened when Mrs.
Efezino secretly slipped five thousand naira into his palm, her eyes burning with
sincere gratefulness because she’d forgotten to pick up her daughter on time
again yesterday, and Saint had stayed with the shy six-year-old for nearly two
hours after the school had closed and no one was left in the building. Samuel,
the other security guard, would’ve waited with him, but he always left the
second their shift ended to beat the evening traffic in town.
Work passed in a heat-filled daze, he and Samuel passing the time by gisting
and munching on fried groundnuts when they didn’t need to be watching the
gates.
Saint strolled to Chiamaka Amala Point for something cheap and filling to
eat when work was over, still feeling off-kilter. He kept rolling his neck, like there
was a pain in his shoulders he couldn’t quite get rid of. Ugh. Honestly. Perhaps
now was the time to say fuck it to that dream.
The demon never came unless Saint “summoned” him. That first time, a few
months ago now, when he’d found himself inside that forest with the hulking
humanoid creature stalking him through the trees, the arousal that had come
blazing to life in his gut had felt simultaneously dirty as it had freeing.
This isn’t real, he’d told himself. In his dreams, he could do whatever the fuck
he wanted. And what he wanted was to be pinned down by someone—he wasn’t
too picky about the gender—and fucked so hard he felt it when he woke up.
When the demon had realised what kind of game he was playing, he’d been all
too eager to give Saint what he wanted. Except, he wouldn’t do it unless Saint
explicitly consented, even though that was the entire point; Saint didn’t want to
choose. But after the demon had shown him how to draw the circle—a signal for
the game to begin—he’d stopped showing up in his dreams until Saint had given
up and drawn the damn circle.
Now, every time Saint found himself in that forest, it was his choice to play. If
he didn’t draw the circle, he didn’t get his relief. One of the many pieces of
evidence pointing to some kind of sentience in the demon, even though that
obviously didn’t make a lick of sense. Did he have a demon just—what? Living
in his subconscious? Were his dreams based in a real, alternate dimensional
world or something? There was no rational explanation, so that meant it
couldn’t be real.
Still feeling off-balance, after his meal, Saint decided to walk home. The
school, the local food joint, and his home were all within walking distance from
each other, about thirty minutes between each. Sometimes, he didn’t mind
taking a keke, the small three-wheeled vehicle cheap enough that he could afford
the fare if he wanted to. Other times, that extra two to three hundred he spent
on transport everyday felt like the difference between life and death.
He could’ve splurged thanks to the generous tip from Mrs. Efezino, but if he
ever wanted to move out of his self-contain, as Nigerians called them, then he
had to count every single penny.
He was extremely fortunate that when he’d applied for his job at Abinbo
Primary School, they’d taken one look at his first-class degree and had decided to
pay him a little over double the minimum wage as a sign of trust and to inspire
his loyalty. He’d never wanted to be an Architect anyway, so it worked just fine
for him. Not too long now and he’d finally save up enough to be able to rent a
bigger place—actually start living instead of surviving.
He branched into a roadside kiosk to buy some Gala, getting a few more
packs of the sausage rolls than he usually did.
He was half-way home, the sun had almost fully set, when he had the faint
inkling he was being followed.
His heart leapt into his throat. He tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to
seem casual as he surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder.
A tall man with a similar build was on the other side of the busy main road,
walking in the same direction at a sedate pace. He had on a face-cap, hiding his
features, and was dressed in a simple t-shirt and ill-fitting jeans.
 Saint casually turned back around, taking a deep breath. About five minutes
ahead of him was a junction off the main road. To the right, it branched into a
neighbourhood street, and a small dirt path on the right of that led to his home.
Instead of continuing to the junction, he took the immediate next turn into a
small dirt path. A glance over his shoulder after a few moments showed him the
man had crossed the main road and was now on the same dirt path, following
behind him.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh God. Sweat built on his upper lip and forehead, the
hands in his pockets clenched into tight fists.
He’d have told himself he was being paranoid, that it might just be a
coincidence, but considering this wasn’t the first time this had happened, he
knew better than to write it off.
The route he’d taken was going to add an extra twenty minutes to his walk.
He was just coming up on a street that would connect to the path leading to his
home when he glanced over his shoulder again.
The man was gone.
Oh Jesus. Saint nearly sank to his knees right there.
His hands shook when he finally approached the gate to his abode, giving up
on being subtle as he glanced wildly around, not wanting to be taken by
surprise. The compound he lived in had three other self-contains, all housing
men like him, and they all had keys to the gate.
A local dog bounded happily up to him as he finally yanked the gate open,
letting the dog through before he slammed it shut and locked it behind him.
Technically, he wasn’t allowed to bring the dog into the compound, but then
again, his “neighbours” weren’t allowed to have parties and bring in sex workers;
as long as he didn’t snitch, they wouldn’t either.
The dog sniffed at his legs and hands in search of food, tail wagging.
Nigerians called them local dogs because no one was sure what breed they were
—the general consensus was that they seemed to be a mix of greyhound, dingo,
or basenji, with golden brown fur—and they were almost always without
owners, roaming the usually low-income neighbourhoods.
“Hey, big man,” Saint said softly, smiling despite himself. He fetched one
stick of Gala from his haul, and the dog nearly went wild when it heard and
recognised the familiar crinkle of the plastic packaging. “Yeah, yeah,” Saint said,
laughing, removing the wrap.
He’d barely held a hand out when the dog was chomping half of the sausage
roll in one bite, making Saint jump.
He laughed again. “Easy, boy. There’s more where that came from.” He fed
the dog the other half, his chest warming when it finished that, too, and stared at
him with big, wet eyes. “This is emotional manipulation,” Saint said, reaching
for another pack, “do you know that?”
The dog was too busy happily chomping on his second sausage roll to answer.
He always showered after work, so he didn’t mind too much as he leaned
down to scratch the dog behind the ears when it was done eating. It rolled over
onto its back, exposing its belly, and how could Saint resist that? He squatted
down to give the dog a proper scratch, smiling softly as it panted happily, its tail
going wild.
It whined when he eventually grew tired and stopped. His heart clenched
painfully.
“I’m sorry, big boy,” Saint whispered, straightening.
The dog whined again, but Saint ignored it, fishing for the keys to his front
door. It started barking. Saint stepped through the gate that protected the small
landing, wincing as the dog’s barking grew more intense and violent. What the
fuck? Yeah, it always whined and pleaded when Saint was preparing to leave, but
stopped the moment Saint stepped through his gate, knowing it was futile. The
main gate to the compound was made of thin metal bars where the dog’s
thinner-than-it-should-be frame could easily slip through and disappear to
wherever it came from.
Saint was so focused on ignoring the dog’s unusual yapping that he didn’t
notice it until he’d slipped his keys into the lock.
Then he jolted, his lips parted on a silent scream, all the breath stolen from his
lungs.
Taped to his front door was the bloody, severed head of a chicken.

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 TWO

It had taken hours for Saint to stop panicking, and even now, he couldn’t sleep.
His bed was in the inner right corner from the front door of his self-contain, and
he had his back to the corner so he had a full, unencumbered view of all four
walls.
His lights were on, and his phone was in radio mode. It was Thursday, thank
goodness, so Hot 98.3 was going to be playing music all night long until five
AM. It barely helped to cover up the silence he could still somehow hear.
He couldn’t get the sight of the severed head out of his mind. It was there,
imprinted like a tattoo behind his eyelids every time he blinked.
The man following him, now this. He’d avoided thinking about it while he’d
tried to calm down, but now he had no choice but to address it.
They’d found him. Again.
How? How? He’d been so careful. No one from his old life knew his latest
address. Not even his mother. He slipped out of bed, beginning to pace, one
hand pressed to his chest like it’d slow the rapid pace of his heartbeat.
And it’d been three years! He’d thought—he’d actually started to hope—
His eyes burned. He clenched them shut. He wouldn’t cry. Never again, never
again. But what was he going to do? He couldn’t move again. He couldn’t. All
his savings—if he moved, he’d have to start from scratch. Again. He was so tired
of starting over. He just wanted to settle down and live. Even if his life might not
be worth all that, according to them.
 For a moment, Saint was filled with a violent rage. The hand pressed against
his chest shook slightly. Why the fuck wouldn’t they just leave him alone?
Memories fluttered through his head that made his rage worse, dreams of
finding one of them alone and unprotected, and stabbing them in the face about
a million times so the rest of them got the fucking point.
“Fuck.” He wasn’t going to do that—obviously he wasn’t, but the way he’d
relished the thought of the violence scared him.
He collapsed onto his bed, staring desolately out into his flat. He would have
to move. There was no other choice.
It would be easier, he knew, if he just went back. His parents would probably
welcome him with open arms. The last time, his mother had cried and begged,
and when that hadn’t worked, had cursed and spat, and when that hadn’t
worked—
Saint clenched his eyes shut, shoving the memories away.
Maybe he could go back. And he could pretend again. He could—
Fuck. No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t. But he couldn’t
stay here. And he couldn’t move. But he had to move.
He buried his face into his palms to muffle his scream. He thought briefly
about his best friend. He knew, even though they’d never physically met, that
Teresa would open her doors to him the moment he asked, no conditions
applied. But how could he burden her with this? And it would put her in
danger, too. As a semi-closeted trans woman, she was already more vulnerable
than he was; he wasn’t about to add any more stress to that.
If only he had some kind of protection. If only he were invincible. Or if he
could train his—the dog to somehow become a superhero, dramatically fighting
off every bad guy until they got the point; his knight in shining armour.
Saint stilled.
His pulse skittered.
That was—no.
He straightened, his heart back to beating so hard he could barely hear
anything else.
Could he—?
No. Obviously not.
 Would it even—?
But he had no choice.
And this was a demon. What better protection would he have than from a
supernatural being? If no one could touch him—if they couldn’t threaten him
anymore, he could just live his life ignoring them until they finally went away.
The thought of it—of some well-deserved freedom, some true, well-deserved
rest—was too much for him to resist.
He left his bed. He had to have some chalk somewhere. Chairman Ebube’s
son was always trying to sneak a pack of it home. The poor thing probably had
some kind of deficiency. After one too many beatings, with Sunday being as
stubborn as a he-goat, Saint had taken to confiscating the chalk from him before
he went home.
There. Bottom drawer on his bedside table.
He moved to the space at the foot of his bed and dropped to his knees.
As he put the chalk to the floor, he hesitated. Was he really about to do this?
What if the demon wasn’t real and his dreams were just convincingly vivid?
But what if he was?
Saint didn’t know what would be scarier. If he wasn’t real, then ... then Saint
was stuck with running and hiding possibly for the rest of his life because they’d
probably never give up. But then again, if the demon was real ...
Saint remembered one night, not too long ago, after one of their sessions, the
demon had drawn onto his chest with the tip of a clawed, slightly trembling
finger. It had felt like a summoning circle—Saint had had his eyes closed—
though not the same one the demon had taught Saint to use for their games.
“This could be real, you know,” he’d whispered, tracing the same pattern over
and over. “If you wanted it to be.”
Saint had that pattern memorised. He’d never used it. Never even put it on
paper, afraid that it’d summon the demon if he did. If there was any proof the
demon was real, that was unequivocally it.
What if the demon thought this was a game? Or what if the “game” only
counted when he was dreaming? What if when he summoned it, he couldn’t
control it, and it went off on some kind of rampage, killing everyone it saw? It
was a demon, after all. Weren’t they all evil and self-serving?
 Then he thought of the demon huskily calling him his little rabbit, indulging
in his fantasies, making sure he always consented, that they were always on the
same page—
He pressed the chalk harder onto the floor and began to draw.

“We should think about moving south,” Ammon was saying. Most of the
nicquiris had met up at one of their designated safe zones after a sentry attack.
This one was located a little bit to the far north of Almianck forest, close to the
Raging Sea. “There aren’t that many sects there, and from what I hear, they live
like us. Not entirely a nomadic lifestyle like we do, but they don’t care about
feeding from or interacting with humans at all.”
“Doesn’t that mean they aren’t nicquiri?”
“And that they don’t have any nicquiris in the vicinity?”
There was a brief silence. Where nicquiris went, sentries were bound to
follow.
“The only way for us to be truly safe is if we split up,” Pink said, her voice
devoid of emotion.
“Splitting up is a death sentence,” Ammon said dismissively.
Demons weren’t created to be alone.
Knight was tired of this conversation. They had it every time the sentries
caught up to them and sent them skittering. And even though he hated that this
had become his life—he didn’t choose to be born a fucking nicquiri—he
wouldn’t trade his newfound freedom for anything.
Sometimes he cursed the Almighty for making him this way, and his
Sovereign for taking one look at him and his sibling and only seeing a means to
an end. Other times, though he tried not to, he couldn’t help but remember his
Sovereign’s warmth and the warmth of his sibling and wanted it again so badly it
was like he was missing a limb.
“Can we decide on where we’ll go tomorrow?” Mercy said. “I’m tired.”
 “We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” Ammon agreed with a nod. “For now, let’s feed,
and then get some rest.”
The demons began to hug and touch each other. Firm clasps to the arms,
squeezes to their hands; some pressed their foreheads together, tangled their tails,
while others hugged. By the time they were done feeding off each other’s
emotions, Knight was full, his wings fluttering, skin buzzing slightly.
“Anyone up for some dreamscaping?” Alise said as the demons began to
settle, holding up a small jar of viscous, silvery liquid. Knight’s heart leapt.
A few of the demons perked up with affirmatives. When the bottle of
druntreame was passed to him, he shook his head with a wry smile and passed it
to the demon next to him. He didn’t need the drug to traverse the dreamscape
anymore, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, especially not in Ammon’s
hearing.
He glanced around when he realised Pink had disappeared. He calmed down
a little when he spotted her a bit far off from the main crowd, resting high on a
thick branch on one of the trees, her riotous pink afro like a halo.
Knight snuck away from the crowd, then leapt up to meet her, his wings
gently undulating so as not to disturb the atmosphere.
Her eyes had been shut, but she opened them when she felt him land on the
branch in front of her on one leg, testing its strength. When he was sure it would
take both their weights, he settled down in front of her. Pink glanced in the
direction of the other demons, her lips quirking when she noticed them passing
the druntreame around.
“Not joining in on the fun? You’ve been doing that more and more lately.”
“Could say the same about you.”
Her slight smile disappeared. The sudden seriousness of her expression had
Knight raising an eyebrow, inwardly ignoring the way it made him feel queasy.
“Have you ever thought about leaving here?” she whispered.
“Here?”
“Hell.”
“Where else would we go?” Knight asked, even though he knew the answer.
He tried to control his breathing and his expression as he thought of his
human. He shamefully remembered his one night of weakness, when he’d traced
a proper summoning circle onto the human’s chest, whispering that this could
be truly real, if only he wanted it. Telling him about contracts and how they
worked; how they could help tether Knight to the human world.
The human either hadn’t heard or had pretended not to—or perhaps he just
wasn’t interested in anything real. Knight had been too much of a coward to
find out which.
“Where do you think?” Pink replied, entirely seriously.
“How would that even work?” Knight asked, pretending not to know.
“A contract,” Pink said, way too easily for his liking. Then she shrugged. “Or
a human soul; I’m not picky.”
“Better not let Ammon catch you saying that.”
Pink rolled her eyes. She had her knees bent, bare feet flat on the branch, and
pulled them closer to her chest so she could lean forward. Her robes, like most of
the other demons’ clothes, swirled around her in the form of dark shadows, with
slits that went up her thick legs and thighs, exposing her dark plum skin to the
night air.
She looked into his eyes, one after the other like she was searching for
something.
“I look into your eyes,” she whispered, “and I see a reflection of my own.”
“Eyes do tend to be reflective, yes.”
She rolled her eyes again. “You stopped dreamscaping with the rest a few
months ago. You found a human, didn’t you?” she asked bluntly.
“Please lower your voice.” His tone was playful, but he still glanced around to
make sure they were still alone.
Down where the demons gathered, Knight noticed Ammon wasn’t a part of
the crowd looking to dreamscape. Of course he wasn’t.
Sometimes, Knight felt like he’d escaped one sect only to end up right in
another. These demons—rebel, runaway nicquiris—might pretend not to be a
sect, but they sure acted like one sometimes. Ammon was the oldest and the
most powerful, and, in a “normal” sect, he would be their Sovereign. He was
literally that except in name. Where most typical sects were built to farm human
souls and emotion, making their members—and mostly their Sovereigns—ever
more powerful, Knight’s fellow escaped nicquiris prided themselves on doing
the exact opposite.
Feeding on human emotions was strictly forbidden. In fact, physically
attempting to get to the human world was strictly forbidden. Aiming to get a
human soul? You might as well ostracise yourself. None of these were hard-
written rules, but Knight knew they were rules all the same. Whatever the sects
believed to be good and right, the runaway nicquiris thought they were bad and
wrong.
That didn’t stop them from dreamscaping, though. Nicquiris were the only
demons to have the ability to see and travel the Veil, the thin “curtain” that
separated Hell from the mortal realm. Perhaps it was a result of their
enslavement, or perhaps it was because it was something they were just born to
do, but they just couldn’t resist going into the dream world of humans to wreak
havoc and get high on the pseudo-endorphins.
It wasn’t really feeding on humans, obviously, so it didn’t count.
If Ammon knew Knight had formed some kind of addiction to one human
in particular, that he’d communicated with said human and made a pact with
him—taught him how to draw a summoning circle—he’d be ostracised with
immediate effect. Not to talk of all the other feelings Knight was having; his
discontent with this life, all the running and hiding and running and hiding, but
if anyone had asked what he did want, what he pictured when he thought of his
future, he wouldn’t have had an answer.
Pink was smirking. “So, you did meet a human.”
Knight thought of all of Pink’s disappearances lately, of the way she just
seemed to glow from the inside, like she held a precious secret, and was hit with a
dawning realisation.
“So did you.”
Pink looked unapologetic. “I’ve had a few contracts.”
“Pink.” Knight dramatically clutched at his chest, pretending to be
scandalised.
“Mostly with the same human, don’t worry,” Pink said, her lips quirked. She
seemed to be trying to control her expression, but her fluttering wings gave her
away. Her mouth spread, almost without her control, her eyes dancing with a
happiness that filled Knight with a strange envy. “I really think I might stay
there, Cunning. I’m just ... I’m tired of running. I just want a home. A place I
can truly belong.”
Knight’s throat felt strangely constricted. “And you think you’ve found
that?” he forced himself to ask. “In the mortal realm?” His voice was barely a
whisper.
“I think I have,” Pink said softly.
It felt like blasphemy to even admit it. Knight’s hands clenched, that strange
tightness in his throat increasing at the thought of it. Running off to the human
world and finding love, a place at someone’s home and hearth, where he could
stop running and take a breath, figure out who he was and what he wanted—
“Pink,” he said, unsure what else to say.
“Oh, please,” she said, waving off his worry. “You’ve been doing the same
thing, haven’t you?”
Slowly, Knight shook his head. “Only in the dreamscape. I’ve never been—
only in the dreamscape.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, Pink looked uncomfortable. She pulled her knees tighter to
her chest, her wings wrapping protectively around her.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Knight said quickly, firmly. He took a shaky breath.
“And I—I think—”
He stopped, frowning. He pressed a hand against his breastbone, where he
could feel a faint tugging sensation. It felt vaguely familiar.
“You think ...?” Pink prompted.
Knight opened his mouth, then closed it again, his eyes widening when he
could finally place the feeling.
He was being summoned. Not dreamscape summoned—summoned
summoned.
Pink seemed to notice where he was touching, his wide eyes. Her lips quirked.
“Only in the dreamscape, huh?”
“I-I—” What was happening? Why was the human summoning him now?
“Go,” Pink said, laughing. “I’ll cover for you. Just make sure you find the
time to come back and give me an update, all right?” Pink glanced in the
direction of the other demons. “That’s if I’m still around by then,” she said,
almost to herself.
“Right.” Knight blinked. “Right.”
He didn’t waste any more time. He closed his eyes and let himself be pulled.

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 THREE

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in an unfamiliar room. It was a
small thing, with a bed resting against the wall directly in front of him, and what
looked like a sitting room and kitchenette sitting to his right.
The first thing to properly hit him, though, was the scent.
He almost groaned aloud, his mouth flooding with saliva.
Then his eyes took in the human scrambling to their feet in front of him. The
literal human from his dreams.
He was tall by human standards. Unlike demons, who could grow up to eight
feet, humans seemed to average at around six or below. Knight himself was
about seven and a half feet, which meant the human had to be up to six. His
sexy, fat frame was hidden underneath a worn, short-sleeved cotton shirt and
pants, both fabrics in a dark wine-red colour that brought out all the warmth in
his gorgeous deep, brown skin.
Almighty, that scent was going to drive him to madness. Would his skin or
the slightly messy coils of his dark afro be as soft as it looked if Knight reached
out to touch?
Knight could hear the human’s heartbeat pounding, could see his pulse
dancing at the base of his throat. He wanted to press his mouth against the dip,
feel that soft drumming against his lips.
“You’re real,” the human finally breathed, staring at Knight with wide,
disbelieving eyes.
 Knight’s lips quirked. “Did you really expect me not to be?” His voice came
out unintentionally husky.
The human’s eyes dropped to Knight’s quirked mouth, and his scent
changed, bloomed, making Knight’s mouth get even wetter. Almighty.
“I—” The human shook his head. Squared his shoulders. “I-I’m not—I
summoned you here to make a deal.”
Knight felt a brief pang of disappointment, which was quickly replaced with
a mixture of excitement and just a little bit of trepidation.
A contract.
His first real one.
“Go on,” Knight said, trying to sound benevolent and like he’d done this a
thousand times before.
“I’m being ... stalked,” the human hedged, not meeting his eyes. Knight
quickly tempered down the sharp swell of rage he felt at anyone causing his
human distress.
Shit. Fuck.
Not “his” human.
“And I need protection,” the human finished. “Just until they leave me alone.
For good.” That last bit seemed tacked on.
Something about his shifty eyes and stance told Knight he wasn’t being given
the entire story, but the thought of a contract—a tether to the human world for
however long it might last, was too tempting to resist.
“Why not just get rid of them?” Knight paused for emphasis. “Permanently.”
“No,” the human said a little too quickly, his hands clenching into fists.
Curiously, his scent had sharpened at the suggestion, his heart racing, but not
with fear. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want to be left alone.”
Despite himself, Knight felt his heart clench. He wished he knew who this
stalker was right now so he could teach them a lesson for making his human
sound so beat down.
Fuck. Not his.
He glanced around. “You haven’t brought a sacrifice.”
The human jerked. “A what?”
 “A sacrifice,” Knight said, lips quirking again. “To seal the deal. Did I not
mention that when I was telling you about contracts?”
The human blushed, possibly because he’d definitely been pretending to be
asleep when Knight had explained it in the dreamscape. Fuck, and Knight could
smell his blush, the scent nearly making him sway forward like he was being
magnetised.
The human slowly grew pale. “Wait. W-What kind of sacrifice?”
Your immortal soul, Knight immediately wanted to say, but he held the words
back. Yeah, owning his soul—the phrase alone had him swallowing repeatedly—
would be ideal, but Knight didn’t want to trick or coerce it out of him.
The thought—even though it was brief and wild and entirely impossible—of
the human willingly giving it up made Knight burn.
“An animal is customary,” Knight said, managing to sound calm.
The human jerked backward, looking sickened. “No. I’m not—no. Is there
something else?”
Knight stared at him. The human stared back, then eventually looked away.
Then he kept glancing at Knight from the corner of his eyes. It was quick, so
quick Knight wasn’t sure he’d imagined it, but he saw the human’s eyes drop to
his lips.
It felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Knight’s lips tingled. His lower belly
buzzed, his hands twitching. Now that he’d thought it, he had to have it.
“Shall I suggest something, then?” he asked huskily.
The human’s pulse was thundering now. His scent was also doing despicably
delicious things. Fuck, was it normal for humans to smell this mouthwatering?
Or was it just this human in particular?
“Depends on what it is,” the human said, as if he wasn’t eager. Sweet little
rabbit.
Knight smiled, slowly, the buzzing in his lower belly tripling when, this time,
he saw the human’s eyes drop to his mouth.
“A kiss.”
His mouth dropped open like he couldn’t believe Knight’s audacity, even as
his scent bloomed once more, betraying his desire.
“I—you want—”
 “A kiss,” Knight repeated. He tapped a finger against his lips, enjoying the
way the human’s eyes were drawn to the motion. Until their contract was
finalised, Knight was bound to the perimeters of his circle. But if the human
agreed to his suggestion, he’d be able to move into his circle and touch him.
Almighty, he wanted badly to touch him.
“You—really? Just a kiss?” Knight didn’t think the human realised how
breathy his voice was. Or how intently—how hungrily—he was staring at
Knight’s mouth. When he licked his own lips, full and pale and pink, Knight felt
like he’d been kicked in the stomach.
“A kiss, yes,” Knight said. His gaze darkened. “But there won’t be anything
“just” about it.”
The human’s heart skipped a beat. The syrupy sweet scent in the air that
must’ve been his arousal made Knight wish he could taste it. Perhaps once he
kissed him, he’d taste it in his mouth.
Like the human was thinking along the same lines, the sweetness in his scent
sharpened, and he was squaring his shoulders again.
“Okay,” he said, the word more air than sound. His pupils were blown so
wide they’d nearly swallowed the hypnotic dark brown of his iris. “Okay. I-I
want it.”
Fuck. Knight wanted to hear him admit it again. He stepped forward and slid
a hand behind his head, tilting it backward. His hair was indeed as soft as Knight
had imagined.
The human swayed forward into Knight’s orbit, almost as if without
thought. His heart was pounding erratically, and that delicious scent in the air
was thickening.
Knight lowered his head, slowly, savouring the anticipation that had them
both almost trembling.
At the first touch of their mouths, Knight was overwhelmed.
The human made a soft, whimpering noise, immediately pressing closer.
Knight’s left hand found his hip, pulling him tight to his body. The feel of him
—warm and firm and real—had Knight almost panting.
Those soft, full lips gave under the pressure of Knight’s mouth, opening up
for him so easily it made his head spin. He thrust his tongue into that mouth, his
knees nearly buckling at the feel of him, the taste of him. He’d been right; this
was nothing compared to the dreamscape. Compared to this, it felt like
everything in the dreamscape had occurred deep under water, the sounds, taste,
and scent muted and washed out. It felt like tasting something sweet for the first
time in your life after years of downing tastelessness.
The human gasped, his hands flying up to clutch at Knight’s back, his
heartbeat skittering madly when his fingers accidentally brushed against
Knight’s wings, like he’d forgotten they were there.
He moaned, shaking as Knight plundered his mouth, his hands moving with
more purpose, up Knight’s back until they were gently touching the place where
Knight’s wings protruded from his back.
Knight made an animal sounding noise, his wings flaring. His tail darted
forward, the tip beginning to slide underneath the hem of the human’s shirt as
he slid his hands down to those sexy, plump thighs and attempted to lift him
into the air, wanting those thick legs wrapped around his waist.
Knight’s arms were suddenly humanless, the loss of the embrace so startling
he nearly stumbled.
The human was standing a few feet away now, panting, holding one hand up
as if to ward Knight away.
“Was that—is that—?”
Knight straightened, straining to control his breathing, to keep himself from
leaping for the human and plundering his sweet mouth again. The scent of his
arousal and pleasure was so heady it was making Knight feel inebriated.
“Yes,” Knight said huskily. “That’ll do.”
“Is it done, then?”
“Not yet. You have to say the vow.”
“T-The vow?”
“Repeat after me. Igris. Entis. Untis. Represe.”
“Igris,” the human said carefully, “entis, untis, represe.”
Knight felt the bond form in his chest, like an invisible thread linking him to
the human.
“Oh.” The human seemed to feel it, too, his hand flying to his breastbone. At
his acknowledgment, the bond pulsed. Knight answered it, making it pulse
again.
“It is done,” Knight said. He couldn’t help the way his lips stretched into an
almost predatory grin. “I’ll protect you by any means necessary, until your
stalker leaves you alone. For good.”

Shit. Shit, fuck. Okay, maybe Saint should have added a stipulation into the
contract saying that Knight couldn’t hurt anyone. It was too late now. And he
could barely think.
That had been his first kiss.
He could still taste the demon in his mouth; his tongue had been incredibly
slick and dexterous—forked and long—how would it feel to have that tongue
between his legs, wrapped around his dick?
No. Stop.
“Look.” He straightened. “This isn’t—” He could feel himself blushing, but
hopefully the demon couldn’t tell. “This is a purely business transaction,” he
forced himself to say, though he was unable to properly meet Knight’s eyes.
“Whatever happened in our dreams stays there.” He looked up finally, wanting
Knight to know he was deadly serious, even though the acknowledgement of
what they’d been doing made Saint blush harder. “Do you understand?”
The demon stared at him for a moment, his unnatural red eyes bright and
piercing. God, had he always been this imposing? Their size difference was one
of the many things that had initially attracted Saint to him, to the monster
stalking him in those dreamy woods, but Saint didn’t think he’d ever consciously
realised just how ... big Knight was. In every aspect.
His height. His chest. His thick, ram-like horns. His wings, and—fuck, his
tail. He shivered, remembering the strange, tickling sensation he’d felt as it had
tried to crawl up his shirt. Like it could sense Saint’s perusal and somehow had a
mind of its own, it flicked in the air. The tip was shaped like an upside-down
heart. Saint quickly looked away before he could give in to the urge to shove
forward and touch it.
“I understand,” Knight said. Saint looked back in time to see Knight’s lip
quirk, showing a hint of fang—a flash of that forked, blood-red tongue. His
stomach did a little somersault. “Though, if you change your mind—”
“I won’t change my mind,” Saint said quickly.
Knight simply raised an eyebrow. Saint could almost read his expression,
which seemed to be saying, after that kiss?
He looked away, cheeks flushing. He walked to his bed, his limbs suddenly
feeling a million times heavier as he reached for his phone. The sight of the time
nearly made him want to sob. Three hours until he had to be up.
Well. He better grab what sleep he could. At least it was Friday. He could
sleep like the dead after work.
He turned to look at the demon, who was still standing by the base of his bed.
He wore robes that seemed to be made from pure shadow, and it might’ve been
Saint’s exhaustion talking, but the shadows seemed to be moving. His dark
purple hair, done in thick locs that went all the way down to his waist, had
golden jewels glittering in each strand, making him look like some kind of
demon prince.
Saint violently shoved the fantasies that phrase inspired down before they
could sprout.
“I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward. “I—uh, make yourself at
home? I don’t know what you eat, and I don’t have much, but—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Knight said. “You look tired, and it seems late. You
should get some rest.”
Saint gladly slid underneath his sheets. His heartbeat stuttered when Knight
came over to the bed as well. He didn’t know whether he felt relieved or
disappointed when all the demon did was sit on the outer edge, on top of the
sheets, his legs stretched out in front of him, wings tucked tightly to his back.
Saint twisted away to face the wall, afraid that if he looked at Knight right
now, he truly would change his mind about their dreams staying dreams.
The silence between them shouldn’t have felt so comfortable already. So
familiar.
 “You know,” Knight said, his voice a low whisper, “you’ve given me so much
in your dreams, but you’ve never given me your name.”
“Really?” Saint breathed, genuinely surprised, but he didn’t turn around.
“Really.” Knight sounded amused.
“I-It’s Saint.”
“Saint,” he repeated softly.
Saint clenched his eyes shut. He used to hate his name, back when he’d lived
under his parents’ roof, and they’d expected him to be a perfect embodiment of
the word. When he’d turned out to be just as human and ordinary as they were,
it had turned into a verbal punishment. Those few years before he’d left, every
mention of his name had felt like the crack of a whip.
Saint, dripping with anger and disdain.
Saint, thick with disappointment and condescension.
Saint, heavy with bitter betrayal and sorrow.
After he’d run away, he’d learned to tolerate it, to even laugh at the few jokes
people made when he first introduced himself.
“Saint,” Knight repeated. “I think it fits.”
No, it fucking doesn’t. There was no way he truly believed that after all the shit
Saint had done with him in his dreams.
But even as he thought it, he couldn’t quite deny that coming from Knight’s
mouth, the sound of his name made him feel like he was something to be
worshipped.
“What about you? What’s your name?” Just because he’d been calling him
Knight in his dreams and his head didn’t mean that was his actual name.
It felt so horribly cliche, too, because he’d been in a truly terrible place when
Knight had first appeared to him—chasing him, pinning him down, and making
him forget the world outside existed for those brief, blissful moments—that
Saint had jokingly referred to him as his knight in shining armour. Then,
because Saint had secretly thought it’d be romantic, and he wasn’t going to ask
the demon his name, obviously—that would have made it all too real—he’d
decided to just call him Knight.
He could tell the demon was smiling when he said, “In English, the closest
approximation of what the other demons call me is “Cunning”. But I very much
prefer Knight.”
Saint abruptly grew hot all over, the heat pooling warmly in his lower belly.
He wanted to turn around, suddenly. He wanted Knight in his arms. Just to
hold him for a bit until he fell asleep, pretending all the things he wanted could
be real.
“Go to sleep, little rabbit,” Knight said softly.
Saint’s heartbeat tripped. Don’t call me that, he wanted to say, but couldn’t
quite get the words past his lips.
He closed his eyes, safe in Knight’s presence, and finally fell asleep.

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 FOUR

“What is a rabbit, by the way?” was the first thing to greet Saint when his alarm
jolted him out of sleep a few hours later.
“What?” Saint said grumpily, glaring at the demon in his bed, before realising
there was a demon in his bed.
Knight was speaking again before he could spiral into a full-blown panic. “A
rabbit,” Knight said, lips quirked. “I’m assuming it must be some kind of prey?”
Saint grunted in response, grabbing his phone to check the time and if he had
any notifications. There were messages from the WhatsApp group chat—
Arehjia’s Secret Queers, they called themselves—and private messages from
Teresa, most of them funny memes she’d found online. His sour mood lifted a
little as he replied to them. Her last message made his breath stop.
It was an address and an invitation. No extra messages pleading for his
attendance accompanied it this time, Teresa more than used to Saint’s rejections.
In fact, he already had his thumbs poised to type in said automatic rejection, but
for some reason, his fingers refused to make contact with the screen.
He felt Knight’s bemused gaze on him from the corner of his eye but didn’t
currently have the capacity to deal with the demon right now. He locked his
phone and dropped it, then forced himself out of bed and straight to the
bathroom.
Underneath the lukewarm spray of the shower, he let himself have his little
panic as he remembered what he’d done last night. He must’ve been more tired
than he’d thought because reality was setting in now.
There was a demon in his bed. A seven—eight?—foot tall demon, with wings
and horns and a tail and deep, purple skin.
And he’d made a deal with said demon. At least he hadn’t sold his soul. Saint
swallowed down a hysterical laugh. Then he remembered what he had sold and
felt his lips tingle and his dick twitch.
Shit, why had he agreed to that kiss? How could he have been so weak? Most
of his life, he’d wanted—but he’d never let himself. At first, too scared because
he’d been living under his parents’ roof, and then too busy and too stressed once
he finally managed to escape.
You’re still scared.
Saint ignored the voice because it couldn’t be right. Over ten years ago, just a
little before he’d left his parents’ home for Uni, he couldn’t even think the word
“sex” without breaking out into a cold sweat. He’d been made to believe that
anything that had to do with it—thinking about it, doing it, getting pleasure
from it—would make him a disgusting reprobate. So when he’d thought maybe
he could pretend to be all the things his parents wanted by dating “modest”,
non-queer women—even the word “queer” had threatened to give him hives—
he’d been so repressed he couldn’t so much as look at them with any sort of
intent without feeling like he was doing something shameful.
When he’d moved to Arehjia, after years spent torturously deconstructing his
beliefs, he’d been determined to be free. Telling himself it took baby steps, he’d
started an anonymous account online with the aim to use it as a diary slash
therapy. He’d talked about his strict, zealous upbringing and how he was trying
so hard to heal. He hadn’t expected to go viral—he hadn’t expected to be
noticed at all—the other queer folk of Arehjia relating hard to his ramblings and
flocking to him like sheep despite his anonymity. It was how he’d met his best
friend; he still couldn’t believe he, of all people, had inspired her to live her own
truth.
So no, Saint wasn’t afraid anymore, he was just … cautious. Once Knight
helped him get rid of them, once he finally moved into a bigger place and felt
more secure, then—then.
He hated that he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
 He turned his thoughts to how good it had felt to be truly touched last night,
the firm, warm press of Knight’s big hand on his hip, the other tenderly cupping
his head like he was something to be savoured, cherished—to be wanted so
obviously and overwhelmingly it had probably ruined him for anyone else.
The all-consuming way Knight had kissed him, exploring his mouth like he’d
been a man drowning of thirst who’d finally found a sip of God’s own nectar.
He thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t yanked himself out of
Knight’s arms, if Knight would have eventually made love to him right there on
his bedroom floor. Trailed bruising kisses down his throat. Touched and caressed
him all over with those warm hands. Enveloped him in his wings as he filled him
up so good it would make his toes curl.
Saint turned the water from lukewarm to biting cold.
When he exited the bathroom, he felt self-conscious as he clutched the towel
wrapped around his waist. His wardrobe was on the left adjacent wall from the
bathroom, his bed in front of him.
Knight was sitting where he’d left him, a perpetual smirk on those full, pale
purple lips. His legs were crossed, yoga-style, his hands wrapped around his
ankles. Fuck, his wings were magnificent.
And he was staring—slowly, obviously, and hungrily—at Saint’s half-naked
body. Saint’s nipples tingled, to his horror and betrayal.
“Do you mind?” he said, squaring his shoulders and making a “turn around”
gesture.
“Not at all,” Knight said. His wings gently undulated, lifting him a few feet
off the bed, then he neatly spun around mid-air, the movements so effortless—
so unintentionally sensual Saint felt his dick threatening to rise despite its cold
beating in the shower.
“So, a rabbit?” Knight prompted as Saint quickly began to moisturise.
“What?”
“A rabbit,” Knight repeated slowly. “What is it?”
“Oh.” Saint frowned. “Yes. It is some kind of prey. I’ll show you a picture in a
bit.”
He grabbed his phone when he was fully dressed. Knight still didn’t turn
around even though he had to know Saint was done dressing now.
 “You can turn around,” he said, finding himself blushing for some odd
reason.
Knight’s wings undulated and he spun around again. Saint was once again hit
with the realisation that Knight was real, he was a demon, and he was currently
sitting cross-legged on his bed. What-in-the-actual-fuck.
For a moment, he felt ugly and self-conscious in his ill-fitting security guard
uniform, but quickly buried the feelings, trying to convince himself he didn’t
care how he looked. And especially not to a freaking demon. Who was here
strictly for business purposes, anyway.
He searched up a rabbit, then shoved the phone in Knight’s face. “That’s a
rabbit.”
Knight squinted adorably at the screen, red eyes flashing. “Why does the
description say it’s a bunny?”
“It can also be called a bunny.”
“Which do you prefer?”
Saint’s breath stuttered. “Neither.”
“Liar.” Saint bit the inside of his cheek. “I’d like to see it to scale.”
He sighed long-sufferingly, even though he really didn’t mind. In fact,
Knight’s almost childlike curiosity was annoyingly endearing.
He found a picture of someone holding a bunny up to their chest, then
showed it to Knight.
“Hm.” Knight looked at the picture, then up at Saint, then the picture, then
up at Saint again. Saint was blushing, his pulse already skittering before Knight’s
lips curled as he said, “I see the resemblance.”
Saint scoffed, turning away to hide the helpless, amused curve of his mouth as
he shoved his phone into the trouser pocket of his uniform.
“Are you hungry? Just to warn you, I’ve only got oats and bread for
breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry at all, thank you. And for future reference, demons don’t eat
like humans do.”
Saint glanced at him as he began to get his breakfast ready. “You don’t? How
do you eat then? Matter of fact, what do you eat?” The still beating hearts of
innocent children? The stray thought nearly had Saint laughing hysterically.
 “Demons feed on emotion.”
Saint blinked. “Ah.” He frowned. “How does that work?”
“Skin to skin contact.” Knight grinned ferally.
Saint’s eyes narrowed. “Is that true?”
Knight laughed. “No. It makes the feeding faster, but it is not required.
Feeding is also automatic and subconscious, like breathing.”
“Huh.”
Saint quickly finished his food. He felt terribly self-conscious for not having a
TV or something, anything to keep Knight occupied while he went about his
day. He did have his banged-up laptop, but he didn’t know if he trusted Knight
with it. The demon had some wicked looking claws, and would he know how to
work the device, anyway?
He stumbled when he headed for the door and Knight abruptly left the bed,
floating over to his side.
“Oh, uh—” Saint began, panicking.
Knight raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I just—I assumed you’d stay here? I thought maybe I’d summon you if I
needed you?”
Knight stared at him, lips twitching. “So, you find out you’re being followed,
and decide this is the perfect time to get down on your knees wherever you are to
draw a summoning circle—”
“I can just call you, can’t I?” Saint interrupted, cheeks hot. “With the ...” He
waved his hand at his chest. He didn’t know what to call it, the invisible thread
that connected him to Knight. A tether? Bond?
“You could,” Knight agreed with a shrug. “But it’d be much easier for both of
us—and faster—if I stuck by your side. Let me do my job properly.”
Saint squirmed, unsure why he felt so uncomfortable. Knight couldn’t just
hang out with him all day. Surely, he’d get bored? And it felt ... humiliating,
having the demon see every aspect of his pathetic life.
But Saint knew Knight’s argument made sense.
“No one else will be able to see me, if that’s what you’re worried about,”
Knight said reassuringly.
“Fine,” Saint said. “Just ... stick close. And don’t distract me.”
“What kind of animals are those?”
“They’re not animals. They’re cars. Everything you see people inside is a
vehicle of some kind. It isn’t alive.”
“What about the things they’re riding?”
“Still a vehicle, but a cycle. Motorcycle.” Saint pointed when one passed them
by. “Bicycle.” He pointed again.
“Why are the ... vehicles ... different? Do they serve different purposes?”
“Not really. They’re made in different shapes and sizes and by different
companies, but they do basically the same thing, which is get you from point A
to point B faster than walking.”
“Flying is faster than walking.”
“I’m sure once humans evolve in the next billion years, we’d have wings and
fly everywhere. Until then, vehicles it is.”
Knight laughed. Saint ignored the way the warm, honest sound made his
belly flutter.
“Everything is so much smaller here.”
Saint felt a spark of curiosity he just couldn’t bury. Every instinct was
screaming at him not to ask questions, to pretend Knight wasn’t even there, to
not foster his nor Knight’s inquisitiveness. Doing that would breed familiarity,
familiarity would lead to ... attachments, and attachments—
It would be a mess, was what Saint’s instincts were getting.
“Ask me,” Knight said, his voice playful.
Saint jolted. How had he—? Was Saint just that obvious?
“Or don’t,” Knight continued, which Saint took as a challenge.
“What’s Hell like?”
A glance at the demon showed him grinning, looking pleased that Saint had
asked. Saint quickly looked away, his heart pitter-pattering.
“It’s mostly the same,” Knight said. “Except greener. And bigger.”
 “Bigger, how?” Saint asked helplessly, cursing himself as he did. And greener?
What did that mean?
“Bigger trees. Grass and greenery everywhere, our paths dirt smoothed over
time rather than concrete.” Right, that answered that. “Bigger atmosphere,
though I can’t explain how the atmosphere is bigger. It just is.”
Saint swallowed. “So it’s not ... it’s not a place of eternal fire? Demons don’t
go around torturing the souls that have ... sinned, for the rest of eternity?”
Knight laughed, though the sound wasn’t mean. “No, we do not. Some
humans, most specifically those whose souls are owned by a demon, when they
pass on might eventually become an equal and natural part of a sect. Others
serve as food, fuel, and cheap labour for the more traditional sects.”
“Sects?”
“They’re supposed to be places of community.” Knight sounded odd.
“Family and worship. Mostly their sole purpose is for the harvesting and feeding
on human souls and emotions.”
Saint shivered with revulsion, even as a small part of him thought it very
much sounded like a church, apart from the whole feeding on human souls
thing. Then again, considering the way most churches out there were, how they
milked and sucked their congregations dry to keep themselves on top, it might as
well be the same thing.
He tried to imagine the look on his parents’ faces if they knew everything
they’d been taught in their precious church was a lie. They’d probably scream
“Blasphemy!”, spittle flying from their lips, their eyes red and bulging with rage
as they flung their Bibles around.
It was supposed to be a funny image, but it made Saint’s heartbeat trip with
instinctive fear, which he didn’t understand. It wasn’t like his parents had ever
been physically abusive.
“Wait, you said humans whose souls are owned by a demon?” Saint said. “So,
like ...” He frowned in confusion, unsure how to phrase his question.
“Human souls are immortal. And when people make deals with demons,
sometimes they sell them their souls.” Knight sounded odd again, but in a ...
sexier way. Saint refused to look at him. “I’ve heard of humans even giving up
their souls in exchange for nothing at all.”
 Saint couldn’t help but glance at him this time, eyes wide with shock. Who
would willingly sell their soul to a demon for no apparent reason? And why?
Knight’s lip quirked. Like he’d heard the silent question, he said, “I think it’s
romantic.”
“Of course you do.”
Knight’s grin widened. “It’s akin to a demon giving someone their True
Name.” His eyes darkened like he was imagining it.
Saint had to look away again, hating himself for his endless curiosity. “True
Name?”
“All demons are born with one. Just like selling your soul to a demon will give
them unimaginable power and some sort of ownership over you, a demon giving
a human—or another demon, it doesn’t have to be a human—their True Name
affords the recipient some ownership and control over them.”
“So ...” Saint glanced at him quickly. “If you gave me your True Name, I
could ... control you?”
“You could bind me to you. Make me do your bidding for the rest of your
natural life and beyond.”
Saint felt a rush of mixed emotions. The way Knight said it, his voice all
husky and low, made it sound like it was the height of seduction. But owning
someone like that—controlling their will? No, thank you.
“Is it the same with owning a soul, then? You get to control the human, too?”
Knight chuckled softly. “Unfortunately not. Owning a human soul gives
demons incredible power and the fact that no other demon can do anything to
the human, like feed on them, and that’s about it.”
Saint shivered again. If human souls were immortal, did that mean demons
could essentially feed on them for eternity? Now that sounded more like the
Hell he knew. Perhaps with all the iterations of their holy scriptures, the truth
had gotten mixed up along the way.
They made it to the primary school before Saint could give in and ask more
questions.
“Remember not to disturb or distract me,” he whispered under his breath
once he was inside the guardhouse. “Go—I don’t know, hover above the
gatehouse like a gargoyle or whatever.”
 “You got it.” Knight gave him a mock salute.
Saint’s lips twitched but he forced himself not to smile. He hated that despite
his wariness and lingering disbelief that Knight was real and here and he’d made
a deal with him, that he felt so comfortable in his presence already, like they’d
known each other for ages.
Because you have.
Saint shoved the thought aside and took a deep breath, this time, determined
to draw a line.

The morning rush seemed to go by without anyone noticing Knight’s presence.

He’d dutifully taken a position up on the roof of the guardhouse as Saint had
suggested, even though Saint hadn’t really meant that literally.
The afternoon was blistering. At some point, Saint wondered how Knight
was faring. Was he bored? Did he feel the heat? If Hell was the same as earth, did
that mean it had a similar climate? Did they have countries and such? He hated
that he was so curious.
Saint uselessly used his palm to fan his face because it was just so hot. Fuck
Nigerian summers, honestly. Then, like Knight could somehow feel his
frustration—or see him through the freaking ceiling—during his and Samuel’s
lunch break, Saint suddenly felt like his entire body had been plunged in an
amazingly cool pool.
Samuel made a noise of relief. “Oof. Feel that breeze? God don hear my
prayers.”
“Abi, o?” Saint replied, forcing a laugh. They weren’t really allowed to speak
in pidgin, but did so anyway when they were alone. They were more co-workers
than friends, but there was something about speaking pidgin that gave their
interactions an air of easy camaraderie.
Saint thought of how considerate it was that Knight had made sure Samuel
was cool, too. He couldn’t check to be sure it had been Knight, because he
didn’t want to look odd to Samuel.
Eventually, parents began to arrive just before the last bell rang, and then the
kids all began rushing out of the school.
Samuel focused on opening and closing the gates for the few cars allowed
inside, while Saint focused on making sure the children were reunited with the
right caretakers, and there were no other problems.
Mrs. Efezino was late again.
“I’m sorry, bros, abeg,” Samuel said, looking honestly apologetic. He’d stayed
for as long as he could. “You know I for stay if I could—”
“I know, I know,” Saint said, waving him off. “I understand. I know how it is,
na. Better go before you hit that traffic.”
“All right, boss. Have a nice one.”
He’d given Voke his phone, and the shy six-year-old was completely engrossed
in Candy Crush, which he may or may not have downloaded specifically for her.
Once the school had emptied and Saint was forced to wait on the curb with
Voke after the custodian had locked the gates, Knight seemed to take that as his
cue to leave his post on top of the guardhouse.
Voke looked up distractedly, then jolted so hard she nearly dropped Saint’s
phone. He managed to grab it just in time.
She pressed into his side with a muffled cry, grabbing his arm and hiding her
face half behind it, her nails digging painfully into his skin.
“What the f-freak?” Saint snarled, managing to swallow the curse word in
time. “I mean—” He shot a glare at Knight, who, to his credit, looked just as
surprised as Saint. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong, honey? What’s the matter?”
Knight, the evil bastard, came closer instead of going away, dropping to a
squat in front of them.
“I don’t bite,” he said, thankfully smiling with his mouth closed. If Voke had
gotten a glimpse of his fangs, she’d probably have passed out. “And Saint is my
friend.”
That seemed to make the little girl pause, confusion taking over her fear. Still
clinging painfully to Saint’s arm, she glanced up at him, as if asking for
confirmation.
 Saint had to applaud Knight’s quick thinking. He hated it when adults lied to
and gaslighted children in the name of “it’s for their own good.” Look at where
that sort of bullshit had gotten Saint. Twenty-eight years old and still hesitant to
form any relationships outside of his phone. Or his dreams, his mind added
silently.
“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you,” Saint whispered. He wanted to wrap his arm
around her, but he didn’t just in case it might further destabilise her. “No one is
supposed to see him except me.” That part was said pointedly. Knight raised
both his arms innocently. “But yes, he is my friend. I know he looks scary, but
that’s just how he looks. Inside, he’s a big teddy bear.”
It took a moment, both Saint and Knight patiently silent, before she spoke.
“Is he your ... imaginary friend?” she whispered. She still wasn’t looking at
Knight, her face half-hidden behind Saint’s arm.
“Not exactly,” Saint said. “If he was, you wouldn’t be able to see him, too.”
She frowned in contemplation but seemed to think that made sense. She
finally braved a glance at Knight and blinked. She blinked again.
“He’s—you’re—” She looked even more confused but less afraid.
“What have you done now?” Saint hissed.
“Nothing. I just ... slipped on a more comfortable skin.” Saint blinked, and he
saw what Knight was talking about.
His horns, wings, and tail were gone. His purple skin was now a deep, rich,
dark brown. His billowing, smoky robes had been replaced with a plain, black
jalabiya. His waist-long locs were now almost black, instead of dark purple. The
red glow of his eyes had been replaced by a warm, velvety brown.
“Is this better?” Knight asked softly.
Voke nodded shyly, her death-grip on Saint’s arm loosening. Saint’s heart was
pounding erratically. He couldn’t stop staring.
Like Knight could feel him looking, his lips—full, plump, pale peach—
quirked in the corner, though he was still looking at Voke.
“I’m sorry I scared you. As Saint said, no one but him is supposed to see me.”
“So how come I can see you?” she asked boldly.
“I don’t know,” Knight answered honestly. “Perhaps you’re just that special,”
he said with a playful grin.
 Voke squirmed and ducked her head, blushing. Saint couldn’t help but feel a
little charmed, too.
At that moment, a white Mercedes jeep pulled up to the gates, parking on the
curb. Mrs. Efezino practically flew out of the driver’s seat.
“I’m so sorry,” she began, half-jogging to where Saint and Voke were sitting.
Her steps faltered for the quickest second, and Saint could swear on his life
that just like her daughter, she could see Knight, too, but when he blinked, her
gaze seemed to pass right through the demon to her daughter and Saint sitting
on the curb.
“Mummy!” Voke cried, rushing to her.
Mrs. Efezino eagerly scooped her child up, her exhaustion quickly replaced
with a bright smile.
“Hello, my darling. Are you all right? I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay, mummy. I passed level five hundred on Candy Crush!”
“Did you, now? Congratulations! Perhaps we can get some ice-cream to
celebrate?”
“Yes! Thank you, mummy!” She smashed a wet kiss against her mother’s
cheek. Then she grabbed her neck with all the finesse of a six-year-old, nearly
making her mother topple over. “Mummy,” she whispered, except, just like her
finesse, it was the whisper of a child, so not a whisper at all, “can you see that
man over there?”
“Hm?” Mrs. Efezino looked around. “You mean Mr. Saint?” It could be a
trick of Saint’s eyes, but she seemed to be deliberately avoiding looking at where
Knight was still squatting.
“No.” Voke giggled. “The other man!”
“Hm. No, I can’t see anyone else, honey. I’m sorry. Come on, we need to get
home, yeah? I’m sure you want to get out of your uniform.” She turned to Saint,
smiling sheepishly. “I can’t thank you enough. I am so sorry. I know you must
have a life, things to do—”
“It’s fine,” Saint interrupted. “I promise it’s fine. I really, honestly don’t
mind.”
“Still ...” Mrs. Efezino adjusted her hold on her daughter, placing her on her
left hip, then began fumbling with the purse slung over her right shoulder.
 “No, please, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense.” She fished out a bundle of notes from her purse, not even
bothering to count. “Please, please take it. Please.”
Saint wasn’t in a position to say no. “All right. Thank you, ma.”
“You’re welcome. See you on Monday! Have a nice weekend. Say goodbye to
Mr. Saint, darling.”
“Bye-bye,” Voke said with a little wave. When her mother turned away,
heading to her car, the little girl muffled a giggle as she secretly waved at Knight
from over her shoulder.
Knight grinned and gave her a little wave back. Saint refused to be endeared at
the way Knight was so utterly charmed.

Saint watched them drive off. Knight got to his feet just as the human spun to
face him, his anger radiating off him like something dark and decadent.
“What the fuck was that?” he hissed. “I told you to keep a low profile!”
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” Knight said placatingly. “But I think I might
have an explanation.”
Saint crossed his arms. “Go on.” Fuck, he was so sexy. Seeing him like this, so
defiant, instinctively made Knight think of their dreams. Of how much he
enjoyed melting that defiance away until Saint was nothing but a whimpering,
sobbing mess.
Knight cleared his throat. “Right. So. In Hell, I’m what other demons call a
nicquiri. I can see through the Veil, the thin sort of “blanket” that hides the
mortal realm from Hell and its inhabitants and vice versa. Nicquiris can see
through the Veil, travel through it, manipulate it—what you’d call using magic
—or straddle it, which is how I’m able to visit you in your dreams.”
“Oh.” Though he was still frowning.
“I’m assuming, in the human world, there will be human equivalents of
that?” Knight prompted.
 “Oh.” Saint’s mouth opened and closed. “You mean ... like ... like a witch or
something?”
“If that’s what you call them.” Knight shrugged.
Saint shook his head. “On earth, especially in such a superstitious place like
Nigeria, the ability to see demons is not a good thing.” He seemed to be talking
to himself.
“It’s not exactly a blessing in Hell, either.”
Saint looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”
Oops. He wasn’t supposed to have heard that. “Are we going to stand here all
day?”
Saint huffed. His narrowed eyes seemed to say he knew what Knight was
doing, but he didn’t push.
Saint seemed tense as they made the walk back to his place, but no one else
spotted Knight or freaked out at the sight of him. He guessed the human
equivalent of nicquiris were just as rare in the mortal realm as they were in Hell.
Unlike demons, humans could survive without needing to physically interact
with another human, so these human-nicquiris probably didn’t need
community the way Knight and his ilk did. He felt a bitter jealousy at that.
Saint, though tense, didn’t seem to notice they were being followed.
Contracts were magical, unexplainable things, which was why, the moment
Saint’s stalker had showed up at his place of work, Knight had zeroed in on them
immediately. He hadn’t been able to act then because of Saint’s command that
he stay put, and he’d completely forgotten to update him because of the entire
fiasco with the child.
That same person was walking behind them now, keeping a careful distance.
Thankfully, they weren’t one of the humans who could see through the Veil
because they were completely ignorant of Knight’s presence, their focus solely
on Saint.
Good.
They’d just stopped at a small kiosk, where Saint bought some snacks, then
began to move again before Knight spoke.
“So, you are being stalked.”
 Saint didn’t stop walking, but Knight could almost feel the chill that had
settled in his bones. He carefully didn’t look behind them, his breathing
speeding up.
Knight’s lips turned down with displeasure. He wanted to crush the stalker’s
head like a grape for making Saint feel this way. But Saint had the lead here.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Make them go away,” Saint said, his voice low and dark. Then frantically,
“Without harming them!”
“Damn.” Knight chuckled. “That’s too bad.”
Saint glanced quickly at him from the corner of his eye, his scent doing
something mouthwatering. Almighty. He liked the thought of Knight being
violent, did he?
“I’ll be back in a second. Don’t linger.”
Knight leapt into the air. He hadn’t needed to manipulate the aether in a
while, but it seemed his contract with Saint had given his ability a little boost.
It took no sweat off his back to simply command the stalker into a nearby
abandoned alley. He dropped down in front of the person. Without being a—
what had Saint called them? A witch?—the stalker wouldn’t be able to see
Knight unless Knight let them.
Knight wished he could appear to the human, threaten them a little bit, but
he didn’t want Saint to be upset.
“You’re going to leave Saint alone,” Knight said calmly, his words backed by
magic. The human’s spine straightened as the command took root. “You’re
going to walk out of this alley, go back to where you came from, and forget he
ever existed. Repeat what I just said.”
“I’m going to leave Saint alone,” the human recited in the same calm, firm
tone. “I’m going to walk out of this alley, go back to where I came from, and
forget he ever existed.”
“Very good. Now, fuck off.”
The human turned and began to walk away, in the opposite direction Saint
had taken.
For a moment, Knight remained still, almost holding his breath. This was it,
wasn’t it? This was what Saint had asked for when he’d made his deal. Knight
had fulfilled his end of the bargain.
He waited and waited, but the bond in his chest didn’t so much as flicker.

OceanofPDF.com
 FIVE

Saint controlled his breathing, counting his inhales and exhales as he continued
his journey home while Knight took care of his stalker.
He didn’t know how to feel. He hadn’t expected the stalker to return so soon.
What would have happened if he hadn’t summoned Knight? The previous times
they’d done this, they’d made sure to space out the creeping, with the aim to
properly mess with his head and his anxiety, make him believe like he was seeing
things, then they’d strike. He’d always disappeared before it managed to reach
that point.
Now, two days in a row? They must be getting desperate. That didn’t bode
well. Saint once again focused on counting his breaths. He had Knight now.
They couldn’t touch him when he had a supposedly powerful demon by his
side, right?
“Something you forgot to tell me, little rabbit?”
“Jesus!” Saint gasped, spinning around to find Knight walking by his side.
“Don’t do that.” Knight grinned ferally. He’d dropped his human skin after
Voke had gone home with her mother and was back in his demon form. Saint
hated that he found the demon attractive no matter what skin he wore. “What
are you talking about?”
Knight’s wings lifted him a few inches off the ground. He glided through the
air until he was in front of Saint, facing him, his wings rolling, pulling him
backward.
 Saint swallowed. Why did he find the flying backwards thing so fucking hot?
There was something wrong with him.
“When we made our deal, you said you wanted protection until your stalker
permanently left you alone.”
“Right. Yes. I did.”
“That person is no longer going to be a problem,” Knight said. His surety
gave Saint a semblance of hope. “Yet, I’m still here.”
Oh. Saint managed not to outwardly react. But when Knight raised a slender
eyebrow, he knew the demon had somehow heard his heartbeat stutter and
begin to pound. He could probably smell the anxiety all over him.
“I repeat,” Knight said slowly, “is there something you forgot to tell me, little
rabbit?”
“Don’t call me that. Not ...” He trailed off, swallowing.
Knight pushed forward, into Saint’s space, nearly making him stumble
backward.
“Not what?” he murmured, his eyes dropping to Saint’s mouth. Saint’s lower
belly clenched. The intensity of his sudden want, his need to feel Knight’s body
—his lips—pressed against his almost had him feeling lightheaded. “Not out
here?” He whispered as he lifted his right hand, his knuckle hovering
underneath Saint’s chin but not quite touching him. Saint still tilted his head up
on automatic, trying not to pant. His eyes met the glowing red of Knight’s, his
pupils blown wide. “Where it’ll feel real, you mean?” Knight finished, his voice
dark.
Saint swallowed and forced himself to look away. It felt like his neck was
weighed down by bricks; it was so difficult. Knight took that as his cue to back
off, giving him his space.
For a wild moment, Saint wished he would push. He wished Knight would
just ignore what he’d said yesterday and read what his body was clearly begging
for instead.
The fact that he knew Knight wouldn’t act without his consent only made
him want him more.
But no. He couldn’t want that shit in real life. He shouldn’t.
 Why? A stubborn voice in his head asked. He ignored it. He didn’t know
how to answer it without damning himself.
“If our deal is still in effect, does this mean I might have ... more than one
stalker?” Saint asked quietly, still not meeting Knight’s eyes.
“That would be my guess, yes.”
Right. Well. Saint had kind of expected that. He felt Knight’s curious gaze
burning into the side of his face, but he didn’t explain.
“The man you stopped. Did you see his face?” he asked, eyes trained on the
ground. “Can you describe him to me?”
“I can do better than simply describe him.” He saw Knight lift his hand in his
periphery, then let it hover. “May I?”
Saint looked up. He stopped walking. “What do you—?”
“I’m going to send the image to you. Telepathically.”
“Oh.” How was that supposed to work? “Oh,” he said again, blushing hotly,
several memories of the few times Knight had used a telepathic link in their
dreams rushing through his mind. “All right. I guess that’s okay. Just for the
picture.”
Knight did as he was permitted. He touched his pointer finger to Saint’s
temple and sent him the image of his stalker.
Knight dropped his hand. Saint blinked. He could still feel the brief touch on
his temple, like he’d been kissed by sunlight.
“Do you recognise him?” Knight prompted.
Saint shook his head, but he was frowning, unsure. The man looked familiar,
but he didn’t know if it was because it was the same man from yesterday, or if he
knew him from his past. He didn’t know which option would be better.
Saint resumed walking, Knight by his side. As they approached the gates to
his abode, his heart leapt as the local dog appeared from its corner, bounding up
to them.
When it spotted Knight, it abruptly stopped moving, back tensing, lips
pulling back from its teeth as it began to growl.
“Jesus Christ. Not the dog, too,” Saint groaned. “Stay there,” he said to
Knight, then carefully made his way to the tense dog. “Hey, big boy.” He dipped
his hand into the takeaway bag he’d gotten from the corner store and brought
out one of the sausage rolls.
The dog’s tail slowly began to wag with excitement, even as it kept growling,
not taking its eyes off Knight.
Saint sighed. There was no getting out of it. “Knight. Come here, please. If
we’re going to spend the unforeseeable future together, I can’t have you scaring
away my—the dog.”
When Saint glanced at him, Knight looked amused but curious, his eyes on
the dog. “Does it have a name?”
“No,” Saint said shortly, tearing open the wrapper of the Gala. He handed it
over to Knight.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You feed him,” Saint said. “It’s a sausage roll. It’s not really good for him,
but I can’t afford anything else. It’s a good way to get him used to you, to know
you’re not a threat.”
“Am I not?” Knight flashed his fangs.
Saint’s heartbeat stuttered. “You don’t scare me.”
“Don’t I?” Knight smirked.
Saint looked away, blushing. “Give him the fucking sausage roll, Knight.”
Knight laughed. Warmth pooled in Saint’s lower belly at the sound. To his
surprise, Knight actually looked nervous when he held the sausage out to the
dog. Saint wondered if they had similar animals in Hell, or if it was just
hellhounds and giant evil snakes. He snorted to himself.
The dog was still growling, but it was also drooling, its tail wagging madly.
Saint silently congratulated Knight for not jolting out of his skin when the
dog darted forward abruptly, biting more than two-thirds of the sausage roll, its
growls puttering off as it chewed.
It darted forward again, tail wagging madly, and Knight fed it the remains of
the sausage roll.
And that was it. That was apparently enough to buy his trust. What a softie,
Saint thought, but he was grinning. He didn’t know how the dog had managed
to survive this long on its own, or how it had managed to remain so trusting.
People were dicks; it was a miracle it hadn’t been affected by that.
 Unless Saint was the one softening him up. Saint almost frowned, but he told
himself the dog was probably only that trusting to Saint, and Knight by
extension because he’d come with Saint. Hopefully. He didn’t want to think
what terrible things might happen if it trusted the wrong sort.
“There we go,” Saint said softly when the dog began sniffing at Knight’s
hands in search of another snack. “What a good dog. You can pet him if you
want. If he’ll let you.”
Knight reached out hesitantly. The dog immediately nuzzled close, tilting its
head. The demon let out a soft breath.
“He wants scratches,” Saint said. He swallowed the weird lump in his throat.
“Behind his ears.”
Knight dutifully obeyed, careful of his claws. The dog made a pleased,
whining noise, then abruptly flopped over, exposing its belly, tongue out.
“Oh.” Knight gave a full-body shiver. “Oh, what a good dog,” he crooned,
dutifully scratching its belly. His own tail was waving in the air, almost
mimicking the wild wagging of the animal’s below him.
Saint’s chest was constricting, his heart clasped in what felt like an invisible
fist. Oh my God. Oh my God. Knight was so big the dog almost looked like a
puppy next to him. And he was being so careful, so gentle; the look in his eyes—
That was the look of a demon falling in love.
Saint brought his phone out before he could think it through.
Knight looked up sharply when he heard the sound of the camera shutter.
“Sorry,” Saint said, not sounding sorry at all. “You just—you looked so cute. I
had to.”
Knight bared his teeth. Saint laughed and took another picture. He stared at
the photos, then locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket before they
could inspire any more dangerous feelings in him.
He turned to unlock the gate, and the dog leapt to its feet at the sound,
trotting after him.
At the smaller gate protecting his abode, Saint gave the dog another sausage
roll, then took his time also petting him.
“Who’s a good boy?” he crooned, scratching and petting its belly. “Who’s the
best boy in the whole, wide world? It’s you, isn’t it? There we go. Precious little
thing.”
When Saint glanced at Knight, the demon was staring at him, something
warm and longing in his eyes that made Saint immediately look away, his
stomach swooping.
He took a deep breath, bracing himself, then stood. The dog immediately
began to whine.
“I know, I know,” Saint said softly. “But you know I can’t.” He unlocked the
second gate, not looking back, ignoring the dog’s pitiful whines. “Come on,
Knight.”
Saint carefully looked over the small entryway, careful not to show his
anxiety. No stray chicken heads or other threats awaited him. He let out a soft,
relieved breath. Even though Knight was literally here to protect him, for some
odd reason, he didn’t want the demon to think Saint needing his presence here
was a big deal. It was temporary and Saint would be fine.
The moment he unlocked his front door, the dog took that as its cue. It
stopped whining, sitting back on its haunches, staring at him with pitiful, wet
eyes.
Saint forced down the pain and guilt as he resolutely shut the door.
“Why aren’t you taking it in?” Knight was frowning. “The animal is
unclaimed, isn’t it?”
“I can’t afford it right now.” Saint shook his head, dumping his little bag on
the single sofa in the room before heading for the kitchen sink to wash his hands.
“I can’t afford to get attached. Any more attached,” he amended at Knight’s
disbelieving silence.
“What exactly can’t you afford about it?”
Saint had this silent argument with himself every time he closed the door on
the poor dog’s face. “Vet appointments. Dog food. To give him my time and
attention when he needs it. To train him to be a house dog, not a stray animal. A
whole bunch of shit.”
“I can check him over,” Knight offered, like it was nothing. “And if you show
me an example of what his food looks like, I can duplicate it. Right here.” He
wiggled his fingers, as if to remind Saint that he had magic. “And you can make
time.”
 Saint couldn’t help but entertain the idea for a brief second, his throat thick
with longing. The ache burned under his ribs, to just open the door and let the
dog come in. Give him a bath, a name—let himself have some sort of affection, if
he wouldn’t let himself have it with anyone real. Yet, he tacked on, heart
pounding.
But—
“And after you leave?” he forced himself to ask, turning to face Knight.
“What happens then?”
Knight didn’t respond. What was there to say?
Saint headed for his small wardrobe, dropping his security bag inside. He
heard more than saw Knight take a seat on his bed.
He took his phone out, switching it from silent to loud, and felt his heart leap
when he saw that he had a message from Teresa.
Saint Teresa
I see that you’ve seen my last message, but you haven’t yet given your usual response.
Am I to take that as an acceptance of my invitation? <_<

Saint snorted at the symbol emoticon—what was up with her and her allergy to
using actual emojis?—then stared at the message, heart pounding.
“Hey.” He looked up. Knight was eyeing him with concern. “Are you all
right?”
“I’m fine.”
Saint looked back down at the message. He shouldn’t go. He knew he
shouldn’t. Just because Knight was here didn’t mean anything had changed. If
he did this, what would happen after Knight left? The demon’s presence was
making him feel like he was invincible; it would be torture after he left and Saint
was forced to remember that he wasn’t. Not even close.
What are you so afraid of?
What if someone from his past, by some odd, disastrous miracle, spotted him
there? What if this was some kind of cruel prank, or what if Teresa was an
undercover snitch, luring queer folk to abandoned sites so she could—
Saint forced himself to stop. He knew Teresa. He trusted her. She’d only ever
wanted his happiness.
What are you so afraid of?
 He wasn’t under his parents’ thumbs anymore. He’d spent years dismantling
his beliefs and constructing new ones; he’d built a new community, as small and
online as it was. He’d left his bigoted, close-minded church behind. And Knight
was here, should they think of trying anything when they noticed he wasn’t
running like he usually did.
He was supposed to be free, in every sense of the word.
What are you so afraid of?
“Saint,” Knight whispered.
Fuck, the sound of his name from Knight’s lips. It should be illegal. “I’m
fine.”
“Are you sure?”
He pressed the phone to his chest. “I’m sure.”
A brief hesitation, then, firmly, “As long as I’m here, you know I’ve got you,
right? I won’t let anything, or anyone, hurt you. Whether it pertains to your
stalker or not. Deal or no deal. Do you understand?”
Saint nodded, throat too thick to speak. He didn’t look at Knight, afraid of
what he’d do if he did.
But just like that, he’d made his decision.

OceanofPDF.com
 SIX

Knight stared with blatant interest and arousal as Saint carefully drew a line of
black along his second eyelid. His hands had trembled when he’d brought the
little bag of makeup out from his drawer, but they were steady now.
After Knight’s reassurance earlier, something in Saint seemed to have shifted.
He’d taken a shower. Knight had dutifully given him his privacy as he’d gotten
changed. When he was allowed to turn back around, he’d practically had to pick
his jaw up from the floor.
Saint was wearing a colourful long-sleeved shirt, the bright patterns in shades
of blood red and dark orange that brought out the warmth in his brown skin.
The sleeves were made of a thin, semi-transparent black mesh, teasing at his
lovely brown skin underneath from shoulders to wrists. His leather trousers
honestly had no business hugging his thick thighs and the plump curve of his ass
like that. He’d also done something to his afro that made the curls pop, making
it look even softer and slightly gleaming in the yellow lighting of his room.
Knight’s mouth was literally watering.
When Saint was done with his eyes, he picked up a long tube with a glossy,
semi-transparent pink liquid inside. He uncapped it, then swiped the gloss
across his full lips.
Knight’s mouth fell open again. Al-fucking-mighty.
Saint gave his nails a cursory glance, biting his lip. He checked his phone,
presumably for the time. Then he sighed, a sound of helpless acceptance.
 “Do you want to paint them?” Knight asked, his mouth moving before he’d
given it permission.
Saint looked up from the small, broken mirror on his little dresser. “What?”
“Your nails,” Knight said. “I can do them for you in a second, if that’s what
you want.”
Saint stared at him, his hands clenching slightly, almost protectively. Knight
could hear his heart pounding.
“Yes,” he finally said. “All right.”
He stood, and Knight moved as well, meeting him at the foot of the bed.
They sat next to each other, twisted around to face each other on the mattress,
the sides of their knees touching. The air between them grew overly warm.
Knight started with Saint’s right hand, the one closest to him. His palm was
incredibly soft.
He looked up, at the same time that Saint looked at him, and the little skip of
his heartbeat was perfectly in sync with Saint’s.
His wings twitched. It took a concentrated effort to keep the left one from
reaching out to wrap around him.
“What colour are you thinking?” he asked, his voice an intimate whisper.
“Black is fine,” Saint said gruffly. He cleared his throat, looking down. It was
probably the makeup, but his eyelashes looked so long, so pretty.
Knight smoothed his thumb over each fingernail, leaving a smooth, glittery
finish behind. He gave the hand a little squeeze when he was done, rather than
press a kiss to his knuckles like he wanted to.
“Oh, wow,” Saint breathed. He hadn’t asked for the glitter, but Knight had
wanted to show off. From Saint’s scent and his expression, he’d succeeded.
Saint eagerly gave him his other hand. Knight repeated the procedure. Every
second they remained connected—Saint’s soft hand in his, the slight pressure of
his right knee against Knight’s left—made Knight feel like his lungs were being
syphoned of air. He once again had to strain to keep his wing from wrapping
around him, forcing himself to stop thinking about how easy it would be to use
it to pull him close until Saint was pressed properly against his side.
Saint stared at his nails when Knight was done. Knight couldn’t quite make
out his scent, just that his heart was beating so fast. He dropped his hand onto
the mattress between them, clenching it into a fist as if it’d keep the warmth of
Saint’s palm from dissipating too quickly.
Saint stood abruptly. “Okay,” he said, seemingly to himself. “All right.” He
picked up his phone and his wallet, then turned to face Knight.
And Knight could smell it clearly now; his nerves, his anxiety.
“All right,” he said again. He squared his shoulders. “I-I need ...”
Knight stood, coming up to him. “What do you need? Name it and I’ll give it
to you.”
Saint’s throat bobbed, his eyes widening slightly at Knight’s candidness. The
line of black on his lids made his brown eyes look larger, luminous. And his
painted lips—fuck, he was so pretty.
Knight wished so badly that he was allowed to touch him. It seemed like Saint
desperately needed some kind of reassuring touch right now; a hug, or a
comforting kiss to his brow.
“I’m going to ... a party. An exclusive party. A queer party.”
“Okay,” Knight said encouragingly.
“They’re not ... I don’t know how it is in Hell, if you know what queerness is
...”
“We know what it is.” Knight paused. “I’m guessing from your behaviour it is
frowned upon in the mortal realm?” Knight had seen things in the dreamscape,
but of course, the dreamscape wasn’t a perfect replica for reality.
Saint laughed, the sound short. “You could say that. It’s literally illegal to be
queer in Nigeria. Well, technically, it’s illegal to perform “queer acts” or visibly
be trans, but—anyway, I’ve never—I’ve always—” He stopped, making a sound
of frustration. Fuck, his heart was beating so hard Knight was worried it’d soon
break out of his ribcage. “I’m going to this party,” Saint finally said, his shoulders
squared up again. “And I want you to come with me.”
“Of course,” Knight said, like there was any question about it.
Saint blushed. Almighty, but Knight wanted him.
“No, I mean—I mean, if it’s all right, if you don’t mind—I want you to come
with me. As my plus one.”
Knight blinked. “Oh.” A sweet ache built underneath his ribs. Saint wanted
—
 “It’s fine if you don’t want to—”
“I want to.” It felt like Knight had never truly known what wanting was until
right that second.
Saint’s eyes widened again at the fervency, his blush deepening.
He sucked in a sharp breath when he blinked and Knight had put on his
“human” skin. He’d made his kaftan fancier, in a black, silkier material with
shimmering gold thread lining the neck and hems. His locs had been done up
into a bun, with golden chains attached to the ones by his temples.
“Oh,” Saint breathed, his pupils blowing wide.
Fuck. “All right?” Knight asked roughly, trying not to sway helplessly forward,
like Saint was a special kind of Knight-magnet.
“Yes. You look—I mean—yes.” Saint ducked his head. “Do I look all right?”
“You’re perfect.”
Saint’s breath hitched again. He glanced up at Knight, his lips tilting up in
the corners even though he was blushing. “Flatterer.”
Knight’s lips quirked, mirroring Saint’s. “Maybe. But I would never lie.”
“I know this might be weird, but do you think you could maybe ... make us
not very noticeable when we leave?” he asked shyly.
“Not weird at all. And done.”
“All right. Thank you.” Saint wiped his seemingly sweaty hands on his shirt.
“Let’s go.”

No one looked twice at them as they walked up to the main road, hailed a cab,
and began making their way to the location. The party was located on the
outskirts of town, so the drive was going to take a while. Saint silently thanked
God for Mrs. Efezino and the generous tip she’d given him.
As they drove through the semi-busy quarter of Arehjia that had become his
entire life in the past three years, a part of Saint wondered just what the fuck he
was doing. But the louder part, the part that had made the decision in the first
place, was screaming with joy and elation. He clutched his stomach, swallowing
repeatedly because it felt like he was ten seconds from emptying it all over the
back seat.
He was going to meet Teresa—his best friend; his sister from another mister;
his platonic soulmate—for the first time. He didn’t know if he should scream or
pass out; anything to get rid of the nerves that fizzed and bubbled like soda in his
stomach.
Knight did something with his hand, twisting it through the air, making
Saint give him a questioning look.
“I just made our conversation private,” he explained, dropping his hand. For
some reason, Saint found himself missing the bright, unnatural red glow of
Knight’s demon eyes. Not that he was complaining about how dark and intense
his human eyes were. “I wanted to ask, what is the etiquette where we’re going?
How would you like me to behave in front of the other humans? I can tell this
means a lot to you, and I don’t want to potentially ruin this night for you.”
“Oh.” Saint’s heart swelled about ten sizes. He was filled with an almost
overwhelming urge to climb into Knight’s lap right then; to kiss him until all his
gloss melted away into the meeting of their mouths.
His first instinct was to lie, to tell Knight it wasn’t really a big deal; it was just
a party. He wanted to lie that he just wanted Knight there as a friend, as
emotional support, but no. No.
If he was going to this party, if he was going to be free, then he had to be free.
He twisted around until he was looking properly at Knight, suddenly needing
to say this like he needed air to breathe. Teresa might hazard a guess as to why
Saint has been so hesitant to accept her invitations, but she didn’t know the full
truth. How could she, when Saint had refused to admit it even to himself?
“All my life, I feel like I’ve been living in a cage,” he began in a rush, his voice a
barely-there whisper. His eyes dropped to his hands, unable to say this while
Knight was looking at him so intently. “And even though I thought I broke free
from my metaphorical shackles, I’ve still been denying myself. I’ve still been
afraid.”
He looked up again. “Just for tonight, I want to pretend my past never
happened, that I’m not afraid at all. I want to live. I want to dance and get drunk
and pretend to be someone else, someone I feel like I could be. And I want you
to—” There he stopped, his throat thick with something that felt like shame.
Knight reached out, slowly enough that Saint could pull away if he wanted
to. He didn’t. He took Saint’s hand in his, squeezing gently.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
Saint swallowed. “I want—just for tonight ... I want the Knight of my
dreams.” Knight’s grip on his hand tightened. Saint forced himself to continue,
ignoring the heat in his cheeks, “I-I’m not talking about sex or anything
romantic. I just want the Knight who sees me like the person he saw in our
dreams; the person who was free and bold and unashamed.”
“Saint,” he said, waiting until Saint met his eyes. “You are all those things. I
know it’s different for humans, that there’s a disconnect between dreams and
reality, but the you in your dreamscape and the you here right now; both are just
as real to me.”
Oh God. If Saint wasn’t careful, he was going to find himself falling in love
with a demon.
“Thank you.”
Knight squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I know. And I’m not thanking you just for saying that. It’s for, you know,
doing this. You really don’t have to. I hope I’m not forcing you or—?”
“You’re not. I want to do this. Not just for you, but for me, too.” His lips
quirked. “You’re not the only one who’s trying not to be afraid, you know,” he
admitted quietly.
“Really?” Saint breathed.
“Why does that surprise you?”
Saint laughed, ducking his head. “I don’t know. You just seem so … carefree.”
Knight hesitated. It was Saint’s turn to squeeze his hand, to whisper as he
stared into Knight’s eyes, “Tell me.”
“It’s a persona,” he admitted. “I haven’t felt carefree in a long time. Maybe
not at all. Just like you, most of my life, I’ve also been living in a cage. Except, for
me, it wasn’t metaphorical. And when I did finally break free, when I finally
found community, I still didn’t feel bold enough to even contemplate what kind
of demon I wanted to be or what kind of life I wanted to live.” His eyes
darkened. “But, for tonight, I can at least be the demon of your dreams.”
Oh, Saint wanted so badly to kiss him. He settled for squeezing Knight’s
hand again instead. He wanted to ask more questions about what Knight meant
about living in an actual cage, but he knew now wasn’t the time.
“Well then,” he said, lips stretching into a grin, his heartbeat tripping when
Knight matched his smile. “Seems like, at least for tonight, we’re going to be the
Saint and Knight we wish to be.”

They sat in a comfortable silence the entire taxi ride, their hands joined between
them. Every time Saint’s thumb stroked against his knuckles, Knight felt an odd
sensation underneath his ribs, like his heart and lungs were too big for his chest.
The car left Saint’s neighbourhood, seemed to pass through the heart of a
city, and then they were clearly on the fringes of it, on a highway that possibly
led to other cities, where the houses were sparse, and the roads were nearly
empty. They turned off the highway to a dirt track, driving through a forest,
then a thinner copse of trees until they came upon a two-storey house. Like most
Nigerian homes, as Knight had come to notice, this house was bordered by an
eight-foot-high fence, with a locked black gate in front.
He and Saint exited the cab. Saint paid the driver, then brought out his phone
to send a quick message. Even from here, Knight could hear the music, the
yelling and the laughter. He smelled food and other interesting things in the air.
The scent of Saint’s nervousness had tripled the closer they’d gotten to their
destination and seemed to have reached a crescendo now that they’d arrived.
Knight reached out, wanting his hand in his again. Saint easily joined their
fingers, making Knight’s ribs feel too tight once more.
“Just texted my best friend,” Saint said, glancing up at the house. “She’s
hosting, so she’ll be out in a moment to let us in.” He let out a nervous laugh.
“Fuck, I’m so nervous. You know I’ve never met her before? Not physically.
Ever.”
“You’ll be fine,” Knight said, nudging their shoulders together. “After all, you
did great when you finally met me.”
Saint burst out laughing, which had been Knight’s intention. “She chose her
name after me, you know,” he said shyly. “Teresa’s the name of a “saint”.” He
said it with the air-quotes. “When she did that, especially after knowing how I
felt about my name, I knew she would be my best friend forever.”
Before Knight could ask, hungry for more, to know everything about him, he
heard the gate sliding open.
A dark-skinned woman about the same age as Saint came rushing out. She
was just as tall but a little less thick than her best friend, with straight dark hair
that went all the way down to her hips. She was wearing a simple, white strapless
dress that clung to her modest bosom and flared out to her knees, her feet in
strappy, scary-looking black heels, a silver choker at her throat. The choker and
material of her dress shimmered slightly in the house’s security lights as she
moved, like the wings of a fairy.
“Saint!” she screamed.
Knight let go of his hand so Saint could go and greet his friend. They met in
the middle with a tight hug. Saint lifted her off her feet, spinning her around and
making her squeal with delight.
“Oh my God! Drop me before you break your fucking knees!”
Saint laughed. “Are you calling me weak?”
“Okay, Mr. Macho Man.” Saint dropped her, and she cupped his cheeks. “Oh
my God, Saint. Is that you, yeah?” she teased, and he laughed. His scent was so
sweet right now, airy and light. “And who’s your friend?” she asked, turning to
look at Knight. She eyed him up and down, her expression going sly. “Your
handsome, ridiculously tall friend, might I say.”
“Behave,” Saint said, still grinning, still smelling so fucking sweet. “This is
Knight. Knight, meet Teresa.”
“Hi,” Teresa said, holding a hand out for him to shake. “Are you famous?”
Saint snorted out a laugh so startled it looked like he’d hurt something.
Knight shared an amused look with him. “I am not.”
 “Are you single and, more importantly, are you interested in women?”
“Teresa!” Saint gasped, blushing.
“What?” she asked innocently, fluttering her eyelashes. They were
ridiculously long and as white as her dress; each time she blinked, they reminded
him of the flapping of delicate butterfly wings.
“Nice to meet you,” Knight said with a grin, Saint’s happiness like his own.
“And yes, I am single, and I don’t care about gender. Honestly, I’m just waiting
for this guy here to realise what a catch he is so he can take all my advances
seriously.”
“Knight,” Saint said, scandalised but so obviously pleased. Fuck, Knight
wanted to roll around in his scent like a beast.
Teresa was squealing and pretending to fan herself. “I can’t believe it! How
have you been hiding him from me?”
Saint ducked his head, playing along. “We’ve only just—things are still new,
okay? I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. Don’t ask me any more
questions.”
Teresa laughed, miming zipping her lips. “Gotcha. Oya, come, come! There’s
dancing, there’s suya, there’s games, there’s everything! Do you drink, Knight?”
“Neither of us has ever had alcohol,” Saint said quickly before Knight could
ask “Do I drink what?”
“Really?” Teresa looked delighted. “Is that going to change tonight?”
Knight glanced at Saint at the same time that Saint looked at him.
“I don’t know,” Saint began, his eyes bright, his grin even brighter. Almighty,
it was like looking at the sun. “What do you think, Knight? Shall we let loose
tonight?” His eyes twinkled.
Knight grinned almost ferally. “Yes, we shall.”
“Let’s fucking go!” Teresa pumped her fist.

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 SEVEN

Teresa dragged them to the suya stand. It was in the generous backyard of the
house, where some of the party was. There were people of all genders dressed
extravagantly, eating, drinking, chatting or dancing to the loud music. Saint took
it all in with wide, greedy eyes.
Teresa’s phone buzzed. She brought the device out from her cleavage; she
didn’t seem to have a bag or purse. Saint snorted.
“Hosting duty calls!” she said, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the
cheek, her flowery perfume lingering. “Don’t miss me too much,” she said with a
wink.
“I’ll try,” he quipped, grinning and waving as she made her way presumably
to the front door to let more people in.
“Come on.” Saint boldly slid his hand down Knight’s arm, tangling his and
Knight’s hands together. Despite himself, his heart pounded. He pretended to
casually look around, that fear, though muted, still ever persistent.
There were several people making out in the corners, all of them of varying
genders. There were men like him, their faces painted with even more
extravagant makeup. There were butch women with buzzed hair and fancy
ankara bomber jackets. There were drag queens and visibly trans and nonbinary
people; all ranges of the queer spectrum seemed to be right here in this backyard.
Saint’s eyes burned, his heart pounding for a different reason now. He never
thought he’d ever get to see a sight like this, especially in Nigeria. In Arehjia in
particular—though Saint was sure it applied to the country at large—large,
public gatherings of queer people unfortunately meant the attendees risked
either harassment, arrest, or assault, most times all three, so these queer get-
togethers had become very exclusive, with the hosts thoroughly vetting everyone
they invited, while the location of the parties was always obscure—safe from
prying eyes—and never used twice.
It was probably due to that same sense of liberation Saint was feeling, but
literally everyone was so fucking beautiful; different shades of brown skin
glowed under the security lights, pearly white teeth shining as almost everyone
was in the middle of laughing or chatting. Saint didn’t know if he wanted to
fuck or befriend every single one of them.
He squeezed Knight’s hand. They’d only just gotten here, and he already
wished the night would last forever.
“Well done!” Saint said to the man behind the beef suya stand, his wide smile
making the man grin back. The vendor was beefy and tall and dressed in nothing
but a plain white hairnet, neon blue eyeliner, an apron, and skin-tight black
jeans. Holy shit. “How much for one?”
“Help yourself, my brother,” he said with a gesture. “It’s free.”
Saint grinned. “Nice one! Thank you.” He remembered Knight saying
demons didn’t eat like people did, but the demon didn’t refuse when Saint
suggested he try one stick of the spicy, barbecued meat.
Saint took his own stick, his eyes eagerly watching Knight’s face as the demon
brought the stick to his lips, carefully closing his teeth around the topmost piece
of beef, an anticipatory frown on his face.
Saint felt such a genuine burst of pleasure at the rapturous look that took
over Knight’s expression as he chewed.
“Almighty,” he said when he was done, eyes wide. He licked his lips.
“Yeah?” Saint said, laughing.
“What is this?” Knight said, staring at the meat like he was staring at heaven.
“Oh my God,” Saint said, still laughing, pulling Knight to the other side of
the backyard where another suya stand waited. “Try the chicken!”
“Almighty,” Knight said again when he popped a piece of the chicken suya in
his mouth. Saint didn’t think anyone’s eyes could get so huge. “I am changed. I
am a new man. I have been reborn.”
Saint was almost crying with how hard he was laughing. Their hands were
still tangled, so Saint let himself be yanked between the two suya tables while
Knight ate his fill, his eyes growing impossibly larger with each stick he
devoured.
Eventually, they needed something to wash down the richness of the spicy
meats. There was a third table, which seemed to be the bar. Saint didn’t know
what Knight would like; he didn’t know what he would like, for that matter, but
the bar person was more than happy to cook up some drinks for them on the
spot, a pronoun pin attached to their sheer blouse.
“Chapman and vodka,” they said with a wink, sliding the drinks across the
table. “It’s a classic for a reason. Sweet, and the vodka gives it just the right kick.”
A piece of cucumber, pineapple, and watermelon sat on the rim, the drink a
juicy watermelon red. He and Knight took their glasses. Knight hesitated, staring
at the drink suspiciously.
Saint tried not to laugh. “Shall we toast?”
Knight raised his eyebrows, but his smile perfectly mirrored Saint’s, like they
were sharing the same joy. “All right.”
“To our night of freedom,” Saint said, heart pounding.
“Our night of freedom,” Knight echoed, eyes dark, clinking their glasses
together. They were still holding hands.
Saint took a gulp, watching as Knight did as well. They both grimaced at the
same time, making the bar person laugh.
“First time drinking alcohol?” they said, seemingly entertained at the idea.
Saint took another sip, Knight following suit. That second taste seemed to go
better than the first, both of them grinning then laughing at each other.
“Not as delicious as the suya, but I’ll take it,” Knight said, lips quirked.
Saint laughed. “Do you want to dance?” His heart skipped a beat as he asked.
“I would love to dance,” Knight replied immediately.
“Bottoms up?” he suggested, his voice husky.
Knight nodded, and they tossed the drinks back, both of them grimacing
comically. They popped the pieces of fruit into their mouths to mellow the
harsh taste, then Saint pulled Knight into the house through the back door,
where the loud music was coming from.
They went through the kitchen, passing more folks chatting and drinking
around the island, then came out into a large sitting room. All the furniture had
been removed, leaving the sitting room and connecting dining room as the
dancefloor.
The crowd, Saint included, screamed when the opening notes to Girlfriend
by Ruger came on, all of them bursting into song once the lyrics began.
They had to let go of each other’s hands to properly dance, but at the
moment, even though he missed the grounding warmth of Knight’s hand in his,
Saint didn’t mind. The people around them didn’t seem to care that they were
strangers; they welcomed Saint into the crowd like he was one of them already,
singing loudly and cheering when Saint closed his eyes and let the music take
him.
When he opened his eyes again, he only then noticed that Knight had eyes for
no one and nothing but him. The crowd swelled and undulated around them,
moving them around the room like a wave that had come alive, but Knight
didn’t once look away.
Saint refused to duck his head, refused to retreat, basking in the demon’s
unabashed attention, once again wishing the night could last forever.

Knight knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed like, the moment
Teresa had dragged them to the backyard and Saint had joined their hands, some
invisible weight Saint had been carrying since Knight had first met him had
fallen off his shoulders.
If Knight had been in his demon form, his eyes would have been a telling,
burning red. His wings would have arched high over his back, posturing for
Saint’s attraction and approval.
 At some point, Teresa reappeared, joining them on the dancefloor, a milky
yellow drink in a tall glass in her right hand. She’d also brought a small tray of
what she called jello shots. They took three cups each, Knight shaking his head
when the alcohol went straight to his head.
As a demon, he had a better resistance than humans, so the effects of the
alcohol wore off quickly before he could truly feel it. Saint, on the other hand,
was beginning to feel the full effects.
His eyes had gone half-lidded, his full glossy lips slightly parted. His body had
loosened even further, the fluid movement of his hips hitting Knight like the
song of a siren.
“Drunk already?” Teresa teased. “You’re such a lightweight.”
“Ay! Abeg, leave me alone,” Saint said, but his loose grin took any sting from
the words.
Knight felt himself burn with a mixture of jealousy and arousal when Saint’s
hands came to rest on Teresa’s generous hips, her hands going over his shoulders.
Both of them moved close and started grinding at the next song. Her nails were
the opposite of Saint’s in a glittering white, every inch of her covered in that
same colour almost glowing in the flashing lights stuck to the ceiling.
They spun around at some point so Saint had his back to Knight, while
Teresa was facing him.
She grinned conspiratorially, winking at him and glancing pointedly at Saint
with the corners of her eyes. “Wanna cut in?” she mouthed from over his
shoulder. “This is your chance!”
Knight didn’t hesitate. Pretending like she hadn’t suggested it, he moved up
to tap her shoulder.
Teresa happily bowed out, finishing her drink in a quick gulp. “I’m going to
get more shots!” She smacked a quick kiss on Saint’s cheek. “In case I don’t see
you after this, make sure to find me when you decide to leave!”
“Of course!” Saint said.
His eyes widened then darkened when Knight slipped into his waiting arms.
Just like Saint had done with Teresa, Knight let his hands rest on Saint’s hips. He
leaned down a little so Saint could wrap his arms around his neck.
 Saint slid one thick thigh between his, properly aligning their hips. The next
song had a beat slow enough that Saint could wind his waist, Knight following
his lead. Their eyes locked.
Saint’s breath shuddered out of him, Knight also exhaling shakily. He’d never
danced like this before, eyes connected, hips rolling like they were fucking with
their clothes on. It should’ve felt sweltering with all the bodies crushed in and
around them, the music almost too loud, but Knight wasn’t aware of anything
else but the man in his arms.
When the song switched to another slow, pounding beat, Saint twisted
around, grabbing Knight’s hands to keep them on his hips. He leaned back
against Knight’s chest and resumed the sensual movement of his waist. Knight
felt like he was having some kind of religious experience, every inch of him over
sensitised and burning.
Like Saint could feel Knight’s need, he slid his fingers on top and between
Knight’s, then began to move his hands over Saint’s undulating body, over every
intimate dip and curve and how they changed shape with each movement.
“Fuck,” Knight growled, dipping his head down.
Saint obediently tilted his head to the side, exposing the long column of his
throat. Knight nosed along the length of it, then placed a kiss at the dip between
where his neck met his shoulder.
He inhaled his scent greedily, wondering if the heady way it went straight to
his head was how Saint felt when he’d taken those shots. His lips parted slightly,
wanting the taste of that scent coating his tongue.
Saint trembled. “Knight.” His voice was just as hoarse as the demon’s. He
spun around again, his hands going up to wind around Knight’s neck, fingers
buried in the locs at the base of his skull. Knight’s hands automatically went to
his hips. “Kiss me.”
Knight’s lower belly clenched hard with desire. “You’re drunk.”
Saint grinned, not refuting the point. He pulled Knight down by his neck,
closer, until his lips were brushing against the shell of Knight’s ear. “Kiss me,” he
whispered.
Knight gripped his hips, trembling. “Saint,” he said gruffly, his defences
quickly crumbling.
 “I love the way you say my name,” Saint murmured.
Almighty.
“Kiss me, Knight.”
Fucking hell. Knight pulled back, making sure Saint met his eyes. “I don’t
want you to regret this in the morning.”
“I won’t.” His heartbeat was steady. “Kiss me.”
Knight gave in. Their lips connected in the middle of the busy dancefloor,
and they both came alive.

Saint’s lip gloss was all gone, his lips swollen from Knight’s kisses as they
searched around the house for Teresa, their sweaty hands tangled. Knight’s
internal clock told him it must be nearing three in the morning.
They’d done nothing but kiss and dance and drink for the past few hours,
each kiss firing them up, leaving them shaking and desperate for more. But Saint
never asked or even hinted for more, so Knight didn’t do any more, no matter
how badly they both seemed to want it.
By now, he knew every intimate dip and curve in that full mouth; he knew
every sweet sigh, every little breath, every tiny moan and gasp Saint made when
he had his mouth being thoroughly explored. He knew every subtle movement
Saint’s body made when he wanted more, when he was overwhelmed with
pleasure. Despite the multitude of scents in the house, he now intimately knew
the sexy, mouthwatering scent of Saint when he was full of contentment and
lust. Knight was probably going to die before the sun rose.
They found Teresa upstairs in one of the rooms with a group of other people,
all of them passing around a small, white rollup. Smoke curled out of the end of
the little stick and the air was thick with the scent of something pungent and
earthy. It reminded Knight of his fellow nicquiris in Hell, of them passing
around some druntreame as they prepared to dreamscape.
 Teresa stumbled to her feet when she spotted them, giggling, just as
indisposed as Saint.
Her kisses on their cheeks were sloppy after she’d walked them to the gate.
“Don’t be a stranger, stranger.”
“I won’t. I love you so much. Thank you for inviting me.” Saint hugged her
tight.
She hugged him just as tightly. “I love you, too. So, so much. Did you have a
good time? I’m sorry I kept leaving you—”
“I had the best time,” Saint interrupted, pulling back to meet her eyes. “And
you’re the host! I get that you were busy. I won’t change today for anything, you
hear? I had the best time.”
Teresa laughed. “Oh, I’m so glad. And before you say anything, I’m only
crying because of the weed.”
Saint laughed, sniffing. “And I’m only crying because I’m drunk.”
She giggled. “And of course! Text me when you get home, okay? Can I have
Knight’s number? He’s looking a little more sober than you and I want him to
text me too, just so I know you got home safe.”
“Of course,” Saint said, swaying. “Can she have your number?” He seemed to
find that question very funny as he began to giggle.
“Of course.” Knight quickly manipulated the aether before either of them
could blink, creating a carbon copy of the electronic device that Saint had and
handing it over.
Not noticing anything odd, Teresa imputed her number. “Wonderful. Text
me,” she said again. “Both of you.”
“We will.”
“Don’t miss me too much.” She winked and disappeared back into the house.
Saint fumbled in his pockets for his phone, his bottom lip pushed out into a
cute little pout.
Knight wrapped his arms around him from behind, smiling, heartbeat
tripping all over itself when Saint easily pressed backward into his warmth.
“What’s with that pout, little bunny?”
“I can’t be bothered to call a cab,” he said grumpily.
“Want me to get us home?” Knight’s heartbeat tripped again at the last word.
 Saint spun around in his arms, wrapping his own arms around Knight’s
torso, burrowing his face into Knight’s chest. “How are you going to do that?”
He pulled back abruptly, looking briefly sober. “Wait, are you going to fly?”
Knight chuckled softly. “Not today, little bunny. I can teleport us; it’s fine.”
“If you don’t mind. If it won’t take too much of your ... magic.” He frowned,
like he was realising he didn’t actually know how Knight’s magic worked.
“It won’t.” Knight wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him close,
pressing them tight from head to toe. “Hold tight,” he said.
Saint had barely complied when the world melted away around them and
then resolidified, and they were standing in his little abode.
“Holy shit,” Saint said. “Do that again. It happened too quickly!”
Knight laughed.
Saint blinked rapidly, only seeming to realise how dark it was. Knight tried
the light switches using his magic, but nothing happened. He frowned.
“Fuck. NEPA,” Saint cursed. “At least the day is over.”
“NEPA?” Knight prompted.
“Power company,” Saint said, swaying in his arms. “They control the light in
Nigeria. Or ration it. However you want to put it. Annoying pricks.”
Saint left his arms, walking unsteadily over to the bed and flopping across it,
his feet and calves hanging off the edge. He rolled onto his back, each movement
like it was taking everything out of him.
“We should text Teresa,” Knight said.
Saint waved a limp hand. “Yes. You do that.”
Knight grinned helplessly. He waved a hand, sending Saint yelping as his
phone was magically tugged out of his pocket and floated into Knight’s hands.
Knight didn’t know exactly how to work the device, but he’d watched Saint use
it enough times to at least know how to direct his magic into doing the work for
him.
He jolted when both phones vibrated. To Saint, Teresa had sent two little
drawings of a hand doing a thumbs up. To Knight she’d sent a “Well done! He’s
probably going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow, so make sure to be there to
take care of him!” along with a winking cartoon face.
“I can’t be bothered to undress,” Saint complained from the bed.
 Knight looked up, interrupted from replying to ask Teresa what a “hangover”
was.
He dropped to his knees by the foot of the bed, sliding his hands up Saint’s
legs, his lovely, thick thighs. “Do you want me to undress you?”
He saw Saint visibly shiver, his hips subtly shifting. “Fuck. Yes. Please. But no
funny business.”
Knight felt a swell of fondness. “As you command.”
He started with Saint’s shoes and socks. Saint giggled as he shimmied his hips
so that Knight could pull his trousers off. When he was in just his shirt and sexy
little briefs—they were pale purple with little pink hearts on them—Knight
noticed he was half-hard. His nostrils flared. He had to fight the urge to bury his
face between Saint’s thighs, wanting to inhale his scent, to feel him grow fully
hard against his lips.
He forced himself to stand instead, easing a grumbling Saint into a sitting
position so he could remove his shirt. He was so drunk; it shouldn’t be this
endearing, seeing him so pliant yet grumpy. The moment he was done, Saint
crawled onto the mattress and underneath the covers, sinking into the pillows
with a soft sigh.
Knight folded the clothes and put them in the small laundry basket sitting
underneath the desk by the wardrobe.
He came back to bed, intending to sit on the outer edge until Saint fell asleep,
like he’d done before.
“Do you want to cuddle?” Saint asked, looking shy and bold in equal
measure, his eyes heavy lidded. He frowned, lips pursing. “No, let me rephrase
that. I want to cuddle. Can you please come cuddle with me?”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Knight answered honestly.
He got under the covers, his breath slightly hitching when Saint moved into
his arms. He pulled him close, shuddering at the easy way Saint just melted into
his embrace, his face in the crook of his neck, his right arm and leg thrown over
his chest and waist respectively. He didn’t know if it was the darkness, the press
of their bodies underneath the sheets, but their embrace felt a million times
more intimate than he’d expected.
 Saint looked up at that moment, their gazes locking, increasing the warmth in
the room tenfold.
“Best night of my life,” he whispered. “And I’m not just saying that because
I’m drunk, okay?”
Knight smiled, helplessly ensnared. “It was the best night of my life, too. And
I’m not drunk at all.”
“Best night of your life? Truly?”
“Truly. Honestly,” Knight said seriously.
Saint stared deeply into his eyes, his own eyes burning with naked longing.
Knight’s grip around his hips tightened.
“Thank you, again. You made it—I don’t know if it would have been the
same without you. It just felt so good to have you there. To—to be like that.
With you. Even if it was pretend.”
Knight’s insides once again felt too big for his ribs. “I wasn’t pretending.” He
heard Saint’s heartbeat stutter, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. It told him
perhaps Saint hadn’t been pretending, either. “And I thought I told you not to
thank me.”
Saint bit his lower lip, but he was smiling. “Where are you?” he whispered,
lifting his hand to cup then pat his face, his movements clumsy, still affected by
his inebriation.
Knight frowned, about to respond that he was right here, when he realised.
Oh. He’d forgotten. For some odd reason, he found his heart racing like he’d just
escaped a sentry’s chase as he let his human skin melt away.
Saint sighed. He brushed his fingers against the shell of his ear, lightly tracing
over the pointed tip. “There you are.”
Knight felt scraped raw. Tender. “Here I am.”
“Kiss me until I fall asleep?”
Knight couldn’t refuse him. Not when he wanted it, too. He adjusted them
until they were on their sides, then dutifully joined their lips, kissing his human
soft and sweet until he finally fell asleep.
The moment Saint fell into a deep sleep, Knight decided to pay a visit to Hell.
At first, he hesitated, afraid that the journey through the Veil would break his
tether to Saint, but reassured himself that nothing but him fulfilling their
contract could break their bond.
He still breathed a sigh of relief when he appeared in Almianck forest, and the
bond remained strong and firm in his chest. He exhaled yet another sigh of relief
when saw that his fellow nicquiris hadn’t yet moved to a new spot. Had it really
only been two days? It felt like he’d lived an entire lifetime since he’d made his
contract with Saint.
He was filled with a strange tension and excitement as he searched around for
Pink, taking care to keep out of sight of the other demons. They were gathered
around a makeshift fire, their voices just a little too shrill, telling Knight they’d
probably just finished dreamscaping and were coming down from their high off
the druntreame. Knight felt a pang, even though the thought of his contract
with Saint ending and him having to return to this life made him feel a little ill.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand grabbed his arm. He spun
around, his smile widening and then fading.
“Pink! What happened?”
Pink had swollen, black circles underneath her eyes, which were a bit sunken.
Her lips were dry and cracked, her hands slightly trembling.
“Come on.” She tugged his arm, her wings jerking. Knight took her cue,
lifting into the air a few ways away until she landed on the thick branch of one
of the trees. She eyed him carefully. “You look different.”
Knight tried but couldn’t stop his smile. Almighty, if this was the reason Pink
had been glowing all this time—
“I made a mistake.”
Knight’s slight smile disappeared. “What?”
 Pink reached out, her claws digging into his arm. “I made a mistake. I-I gave
her my name. My True Name.”
Knight stared at her with slowly dawning horror. Giving someone your True
Name was the ultimate show of trust, commitment and devotion for a demon.
If what Pink was implying—to twist that trust like a knife; Knight couldn’t
begin to imagine it.
“I need to know how—how can I rid her of this power over me? Is there a
way to reverse—to render the Name useless? I don’t know what to do.”
Knight felt painfully helpless. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
Pink made an anguished sound. She buried her face in her knees, shaking. “I
trusted her. I gave her everything, and I thought she felt the same, but all she’d
wanted was a—a pet!” She snarled the word out. “A guard dog and a magician to
get rid of all her problems without her having to lift a finger. Fuck, I can’t believe
I was so gullible!”
Knight adjusted his position so he could pull Pink into his arms, holding her
tight. He didn’t know what to say. “Sorry” would be painfully inadequate.
“I only got a brief respite cause she’s sleeping right now. I only just managed
to get a breather, but I’ll have to go back before she wakes, or she’ll be upset.”
Knight shivered at whatever he could hear underneath Pink’s tone.
Something hard and cold had settled in his belly.
“Cunning. Pink.”
They both stilled. Knight almost didn’t recognise the name the demons had
given him. He and Pink glanced down at Ammon, who was standing at the base
of the tree. His expression was glacial.
Knight and Pink exchanged glances, before flying down to meet their fates.
Ammon didn’t beat around the bush. “If you swear not to go to the mortal
world ever again, then I will let you off with a warning.”
Pink looked away, refusing to speak. Knight understood. The last thing she’d
want is to admit that Ammon had been right, that she shouldn’t have fraternised
with humans at all because she’d given one her True Name, and now she was
stuck, at least until the human died. It was the worst possible outcome.
Knight couldn’t speak either. The look on Ammon’s face made him feel
small.
 Ammon took a step closer. He was almost a head taller than them, with horns
that curved up from his temples back to his cheekbones. His hair, like Knight’s,
was in thick locs but stopped at his shoulders.
Neither Knight nor Pink moved.
“These nicquiris are my responsibility,” Ammon growled, his voice low, his
red eyes like a fire. “It is my responsibility to keep us safe, to keep us from
turning into every other sect out there, their existence built solely on taking
advantage of humans and getting drunk on power. I won’t have it here, do you
understand me? So, I’ll ask once again. Do you swear not to go to the mortal
world ever again?”
Knight thought he’d known fear, but he truly hadn’t until now. This thing
with Saint, no matter how right, how intense and all-consuming it felt, was
going to be temporary. Eventually, their contract would end, and Knight’s tether
to the mortal realm would be broken and he’d end up back in Hell.
But he thought of Saint right now, sleeping in his bed, some subconscious
part of him probably missing Knight’s warmth. He thought of breaking the
contract prematurely, damn the consequences, leaving Saint vulnerable and
alone, and almost emptied his stomach.
Knight now knew true fear, but his need to be with Saint, to hoard his first
true piece of happiness and belonging, even in the face of Pink’s experience,
trumped it.
“I see,” Ammon said coldly. “Then consider this your banishment.”
He turned and leapt into the air without so much as a goodbye, and they
watched him land a few leagues away in the midst of the other nicquiris.
Knight turned back to Pink. She was clutching her chest, her eyes wide with
terror, sweat on her brow.
“Pink—” Knight began, but within one blink and the next, she was gone.
When Knight returned to Saint’s arms, Saint immediately rolled into his
warmth, cuddling close. Knight’s chest constricted. After Ammon’s
banishment, he’d felt briefly unanchored, like a single breath would send him
spinning forever through space and time. But here, in his human’s bed ...
He glanced down at him, at his soft, round face, his lightly fluttering eyelids
as he dreamt, and wondered if this had been how Pink had felt; if this staggering
swell of emotion had led to her believing her human would be her everything.
Perhaps, for Pink, her human had truly cared for her—scents never lied—but
once Pink had gifted her with her True Name, the human had let the temptation
of having that kind of power corrupt her.
Knight didn’t want to even entertain the idea of Saint being like that. He
downright refused to think of what he’d do after their contract ended and his
bond with Saint broke; that possible future seemed to be staring at him, its eyes
vast and cold and empty.
Fuck. He closed his eyes. Forced his mind to empty, wrapping his arms
securely around Saint and holding on tightly to the now, desperately wishing he
never had to let go.

OceanofPDF.com
 EIGHT

Last night felt like a dream.

Saint attempted to open his eyes. “Ow,” he groaned, immediately slamming
them shut. Definitely not a dream.
He lifted a hand to his throbbing head. His mouth tasted disgusting, and he
felt sticky and gross.
“All right, little rabbit?”
Saint squinted. Knight was lying on the bed beside him, his lips quirked with
amusement. He had his head on his palm, elbow resting on the pillows.
At the sight of him, memories of last night flooded his mind, of spicy meats
and sweet, alcoholic drinks, of dancing until his feet hurt, and the all-consuming
rapture of what felt like a thousand kisses.
“Do you even sleep?” Saint asked, voice rough, tone grumpy.
“Not really,” Knight said brightly. “I mean, I could if I wanted to, but it’s not
a need for demons unless we’re weakened or starving.”
“Ugh,” Saint groaned, clenching his eyes shut again. He felt like crying. His
mouth was so dry. “My head hurts.”
“Oh.”
Two fingers touched his temples. The pain disappeared so suddenly he was
left shocked he’d been feeling it at all.
He opened his eyes. Knight was smiling at him.
“Better?”
 “Yes.” Saint swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Is this a ... hangover?” Knight said it tentatively, like he was unsure what it
meant.
“Yes,” Saint said, “but you’ve eased most of it, so, thank you.”
“You really don’t need to thank me, bunny. Is that all you need?”
Saint paused. He vaguely remembered when they’d left the party last night,
Knight removing his clothes, helping him into bed. Cuddling him and kissing
him until he fell asleep. His cheeks burned. He clutched the sheets, which were
already pulled up to his chin, but still felt exposed.
He felt ... he didn’t know how he felt. He smacked his lips, trying to get rid of
the awful taste in his mouth.
“You know you ... last night was last night. This isn’t—you don’t have to do
—just because we have a contract—you’re not my—”
A finger pressed against his lips, stopping his rambling. To his dismay,
Knight’s expression grew even warmer.
“I know what you’re trying to say, and no, I don’t think that just because of
our contract or the fact that I agreed to last night suddenly means I’m forever at
your beck and call. Even though I want to be. At your beck and call,” he added,
like Saint didn’t get it.
Saint’s blush increased. “Oh. Um.”
“So, is there anything else you need? Are you hungry?”
At the question, Saint’s stomach let out a furious growl. Knight chuckled.
Saint yanked the pillow from underneath his head and smacked Knight with
it. Knight’s laughter increased.
“I’m going to shower,” Saint said, “then we can talk about food.” He
hesitated. “Could you ...?” He grew embarrassed and self-conscious. Knight had
literally undressed him last night for fuck’s sake, why did he still feel so shy and
self-conscious?
“Of course.” Knight correctly interpreted the end of that question and slid
out of the sheets. He sat on the other side of the bed, his back to Saint.
Saint felt a swell of something as he quickly left the bed. He hurried to the
bathroom, locking the door behind him.
 Only after he’d brushed his teeth and was under the shower did he let himself
think about everything that had happened in the last ten or so hours. He’d
thought, come morning, all he’d feel was a throbbing headache and perhaps a
smidge of shame and guilt and regret. He’d thought the alcohol would’ve made
things hazy, but he remembered it all in almost vivid detail.
Knight’s first time trying the suya. The alcohol. Dancing with Knight. Then
with Teresa. The way it had felt to pretend Knight was his boyfriend or his lover,
the freedom of holding his hand, of holding him tight, their hips rocking
together like they were making love.
And the kisses.
He probably shouldn’t—he didn’t know how good Knight’s hearing was, if
demons had heightened, supernatural senses—but he couldn’t resist wrapping a
hand around his hardening dick.
If he hadn’t been so drunk when they’d gotten back, he pictured how the
endorphins would have emboldened him so he wouldn’t have hesitated to pull
Knight on top of him, spread his legs for him—
“Fuck,” Saint panted. Knowing his privacy was fucked until his and Knight’s
contract was fulfilled, he took his time, stroking from root to tip slowly, his free
hand moving up to gently pluck a sensitive nipple.
He thought of his desire tipping over at the party, of giving in and dragging
Knight to an abandoned room upstairs and having his way with him, safe in the
knowledge that if they got caught it’d be for the fact that it was probably rude to
the host, not because they were queer.
He thought of Knight sucking him off in the bathroom or vice versa, or them
palming at each other’s hard lengths in a darkened corner of the faux dancefloor.
Or grinding hard until they came right there in their clothes.
His fantasies soon morphed from scenarios of last night to events that had
happened in his dreams. The thrill of the chase, of being caught, of fighting and
eventually submitting, of Knight pinning him in place and filling him so good,
so completely—
Saint pressed his forehead to the tiles as he slicked his left hand with some
soap and reached behind him, feeling around his hole. He bit his lip hard to keep
from whimpering, his hips rocking back and forth, his dick straining in his fist.
He didn’t sink his fingers in even though he wanted to. He really fucking wanted
to. It’d been so long since he’d properly fingered himself.
In real life, Knight would probably be too big. He’d have to take ages
stretching Saint out. Perhaps he’d use that long, slick, dexterous tongue—fuck,
perhaps he’d have to use his magic just so every inch could fit, stretching Saint
the way he’d never been stretched before—
Saint sank his middle finger in to the knuckle and came with a muffled grunt,
pumping his flushed length until he’d milked out every last drop.
“Shit,” he whispered, breathing hard, forehead pressed against the tile. He
shivered when he eased his finger out, his asshole clenching around nothing,
greedy for more. “Fuck.”
The water turned cold as he gave himself a thorough scrub after catching his
breath. When he exited, he felt slightly refreshed. He wiped a hand across his
foggy mirror so he could see his reflection.
What now?
His goal after last night had been to pretend none of it had happened come
morning. Could he still do that now?
Or did he want ...
He let the thought trail off, his heart pounding. His hand fisted over the knot
of his towel.
Knight was a demon; he needed to remember that. They couldn’t just—he
couldn’t just—
Then again, why couldn’t he have Knight for as long as their contract lasted?
Last night had done the one thing Saint had been afraid of when he’d first drawn
a line between them; he was too curious now, too eager to know everything. Too
filled with wanting for all the things he’d been afraid to reach for, even if it was
with a demon.
Perhaps, despite it.
He left the bathroom, stopping in his tracks at the smell of something
delicious, but unfamiliar. Slowly, he made his way over to the kitchenette, and
stared with wide eyes at the spread that awaited him on the kitchen counter.
Pap and akara. Moi moi. Yam and egg sauce. English breakfast? French toast
and pancakes? What the fuck. Saint was pretty sure the only thing in his
cupboards that was breakfast worthy was a stale loaf of bread and his reliable
pack of oatmeal.
Knight looked sheepish. “I asked Teresa what meals would help with a
hangover and kind of ... went off the rails?”
And something in Saint just ... snapped.
He couldn’t go back to how things had been before last night. He wouldn’t.
Maybe last night had felt like something stolen, but Saint was done feeling
like a thief, only allowing himself microscopic bites of his own fucking
happiness.
Perhaps he’d never get rid of this fear, this guilt, this shame, but he was done
letting those feelings control his life.
“Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat when the words came out too
rough.
“What did I say about thanking me?” Knight raised an eyebrow, completely
oblivious of how he’d completely flipped Saint’s world on its axis.
Saint snorted out a laugh. “I’m sorry, Knight, but it’s going to keep
happening if you insist on being so wonderful.”
Knight blushed, and Saint’s heart pounded a steady rhythm of want, want,
want.

“Yes,” Knight hissed, spilling popcorn everywhere, when the main character
didn’t simply stop at the people who’d wronged him, instead going for their
entire organisation. “I was hoping he would understand that the system is the
problem, not just the men who’d harmed what was his.”
Saint laughed softly. Knight didn’t look in his direction. Perhaps Saint wasn’t
aware of it, but he’d been staring at Knight more than he’d been watching the
“movies”. Knight, on account of avoiding his gaze, couldn’t read his expression,
though his scent was soft and warm and sweet, like the syrup they’d drizzled on
their pancakes that morning. His heartbeat was a little quick, but Knight
attributed that to the movie.
They were sitting cross-legged beside each other on the bed, Saint’s old laptop
propped up on the pillows in front of them. A wire connected the device to the
nearest outlet.
Saint had told him he usually didn’t indulge; he didn’t have something called
“Wi-Fi”, which apparently made watching the movies easier, and the “Wi-Fi”
from his phone was only just enough to make his social media apps work, but
they’d apparently needed some entertainment and he didn’t mind blowing some
cash.
Something had changed since Saint had walked into the kitchen and spotted
Knight’s overzealous breakfast mishap this morning, though Knight couldn’t
quite put his finger on what. It made him feel almost self-conscious, too aware of
his skin and how it fit over his body. His wings were pulled tight to his back,
though he couldn’t quite wrest control of his tail, which kept trying to reach
out, wanting to wrap possessively around Saint’s hips.
They’d spent all day watching the movies in bed. Through the open curtains,
the sun was in the middle of setting. It was dark enough that they’d already had
to turn the lights on.
“I want to watch all the movies,” Knight announced with gravitas once the
movie was over. “How many have been made?”
“Too many to finish in one day,” Saint said with a laugh, then jolted as the
lights abruptly went out. He sighed, his face looking eerie from the grey-white
glow of the laptop screen. “Well, I guess that’s enough movies for today.” He
reached out, presumably to shut down the device.
Knight looked confused. “Why? The power didn’t seem to affect the laptop.”
“Oh, this shit is dead,” Saint said, laughing again. He’d been laughing a lot
today. Knight was a little bit in love with the sound. “I have to keep it eternally
plugged in, and when it isn’t, it only lasts about fifteen minutes at most before it
quenches.”
“I could keep it on if you like?” Knight wiggled his fingers.
Saint shook his head, but he was smiling. “That won’t take too much magic?”
 “I teleported us home last night,” Knight scoffed, even though the truth was
he wasn’t actually sure if he could keep it on when it wasn’t something he’d ever
done. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right, then.” Saint looked like he knew Knight was bluffing but was going
to indulge him anyway. Knight’s wings gave a pleased little shiver. “We’ve been
watching a lot of action movies; I think we should try some animation. What do
you think?”
“I will watch anything you recommend.”
Saint ducked his head, but Knight saw his pleased little smile before he could
hide it, his scent going all buttery warm again. Saint pulled the laptop onto his
lap and began working his magic. Knight was still figuring out how his phone
worked; the laptop looked like a whole other nightmare.
“Do you not have movies in Hell, then?” Saint asked as he searched.
“I don’t know. Not like this, I don’t think. If we do, I’ve never encountered it.
The closest I can think of is when we tell stories, sometimes we connect
telepathically and project images to make the stories seem more real. But it’s not
the same as seeing it on a screen.” Knight violently forced away the sharp pain at
the reminder that he was never seeing his family of nicquiris again.
“Sharing stories telepathically?” Saint said, sounding awed. “That sounds so
fucking cool, not going to lie. So, you’ve never watched a movie like this before?
Really? What about your other contracts? Assuming you’ve had contracts
before,” Saint added quickly.
“This is my first contract,” Knight said before he could think about it. “First
real contract, I mean.”
Saint glanced at him. “What does that mean?”
Right. Knight hesitated. Forced a laugh. “I don’t know. You probably don’t
want to know my boring life story.”
Saint stopped his search, turning the full intensity of his gaze on him. “Yes,
actually, I do.”
Oh. Knight tried not to shiver. “Ah.”
“Only if you want to,” Saint said quickly. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Knight said, surprising himself. “So, remember how I told you I
was a nicquiri? My abilities?”
 “Yes,” Saint said with a frown. “You can travel the, uh, Veil hiding our
worlds? And manipulate it?”
“Yes. And you remember how I said most sects feed on human souls and
emotions? Well, within the sect, that was my job as a nicquiri. I was sent
intermittently to the human world, where I made contracts with any humans
who used a summoning circle, usually coercing the more naive ones out of their
souls, and the smarter ones I harvested their emotions through a magicked gem.”
Saint was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper,
“So, when you said you were living in a cage, except literally ...”
“Yes,” Knight forced himself to say, whispering as well. “That was my cage. I
was confined to a room. I interacted with nothing and no one else.” Fuck,
Knight didn’t want to talk about it. “But I managed to escape. I didn’t spend
too long on my own before I met a group of escaped nicquiri like myself. We’ve
been together ever since.” His heart twisted painfully as he once again
remembered his banishment.
In his periphery, Saint had softened. “I’m glad you found community.”
Knight forced a smile. “Me too.”
The light of the laptop screen had dimmed after several moments of
inactivity, further softening the aura between them. Knight could see Saint still
had more questions, so he waited patiently.
“Last night,” Saint finally began, still whispering, “You told me you were
afraid to think of what kind of demon you wanted to be. What did you mean?”
Knight inhaled deeply, stretching his legs out and resting his hands on the
mattress behind him so he could lean on them, his wings spreading out against
the pillows. “The nicquiris I joined ... after everything they’d been through at the
hands of a sect, they wanted to be the opposite. So, no contact with humans,
except when we dreamscaped.”
“Dreamscaped?”
Knight’s mouth quirked. “It’s how I met you.”
The scent of Saint’s blush filled the air. “Oh.”
“We usually take a drug, and it sends us flying through the dreamscape from
one human’s dreams to another.” He didn’t mention how he hadn’t needed the
drug after he’d met Saint, how he had grown uninterested in any other human’s
dreams but his. “Anyway, because this was my first community after escaping,
and I desperately didn’t want to lose that, I was afraid to contemplate if I wanted
anything else. If there could be anything else. So, I just ... tried to be content.”
“Oh.” Saint turned away. As Knight watched, the light of the laptop screen
finally dimmed completely, plunging them in darkness.
Knight’s eyes adjusted immediately. He noticed that it took a few moments
for Saint’s to do the same.
“What about you?” Knight whispered. “You said you’d escaped a cage, too,
but you were still afraid.”
Saint was fiddling with the sheets, not looking at him. “I’ve never talked
about this before. At least, not out loud. To another person.”
“Do you not want to? You don’t have to.”
“I do want to.” He braced himself, inhaling and exhaling long and slow. “I
grew up in a very ... religious community. In the, uh, human realm, we have
things called religions. And in my religion, Christianity, we have churches, which
are very similar to your sects in Hell. Our scriptures tell us to be good and just,
or we’ll go to Hell and spend it burning for eternity.”
“What the fuck,” Knight said, horrified.
“I know, right?” Saint laughed, but the sound held no humour. He sank
against the wall behind him, drawing his knees up slightly. “Anyway, I had all this
shit ingrained in me since I was born. The community was very small, you
know? Barely a couple hundred people, all living semi-isolated from the world at
large in a village down south. Very tight knit. I even believed it all—I was devout
at one point, I mean, what else did I know, right?
“Then my parents sent me out of the village to further my education. Other
families did it, so it wasn’t a big deal. Except, this was the first time I was being
properly exposed to the outside world, and despite my devotion, I began to
question things. I began to realise I might be bisexual. I began to want things.
And it felt like, after I got this wanting in me, I just couldn’t stop, even though I
tried. God, I tried. After I opened my eyes to how things could be different, I
couldn’t close them again. But no one ever left the church or the village.” He
scoffed. “They were practically one and the same. But I knew I couldn’t stay.
After what I knew? If I stayed, I would wither away. It would literally kill me.”
Knight’s chest tightened with empathy and misplaced anxiety. Saint was here; he
was safe; he was alive. “So, when I got the opportunity to escape, I did.” He
shrugged. “It’s been over five years. I thought I was free, that I could do as I liked
without the weight of their eyes or their judgement on my shoulders, but I guess
I’d been lying to myself.”
He turned to look at Knight, his lips quirked slightly. “Then there was last
night,” he breathed. “Last night, when I realised I didn’t want to live in fear
anymore.” He looked like he was having an epiphany. “I’ve tasted true freedom,
Knight, and I think I might be addicted.”
Knight laughed, which must’ve been Saint’s intention, because a smile, bright
and beautiful, bloomed on his face.
Knight waved his hand, making two glasses appear. Saint had made him try a
Chapman without the alcohol, apparently one of Nigeria’s popular cocktails, so
he filled their glasses with that now.
“What are you doing?” Saint said, laughing as Knight handed him one of the
drinks.
“A toast,” he said. “Another one.”
Saint sat up, his pulse speeding up. He smelled so good right now; it was
agony for Knight not to lean over and just—lick the scent from his throat.
“To many more nights of freedom,” he said gruffly.
“To many more nights of freedom,” Saint echoed, his eyes on Knight’s dark
and unwavering. Knight’s lungs could barely take in enough air.
They clinked their glasses, and they drank.

After their conversation earlier, Saint couldn’t stop thinking about his parents,
his mother especially. How she’d probably have a heart attack if she knew Saint
had “given in” to sin. That not only had he given in to sin, but he’d done it with
a literal demon. She’d just about die on the spot. It made his lips quirk, despite
the awful mix of feelings he got anytime he thought about her.
 By his side, Knight had a hand pressed to his chest, feathers fluttering and
intent red eyes gleaming suspiciously as Rapunzel and Eugene sang to each other
on the lake, lanterns floating around them.
Saint bit his lower lip. Like Knight wasn’t already attractive enough, of course
the demon was also a romantic. He’d had that same intent, enraptured look
during every romantic movie they’d watched since they’d finished The Equalizer,
both animated and not. Saint’s heart had never felt so fucking tender.
When the movie finally ended, Saint decided it was time to stop. It was
nearing two AM. Thank God tomorrow was Sunday.
“Ugh, do we really have to stop?” Knight asked again once Saint was done
brushing his teeth and changing into his night clothes.
Saint laughed, crawling to his space on the bed, by the wall. His heart
stuttered at the phrasing.
“I mean, you can watch some without me if you like? You’ve gotten a hang of
using the laptop. Unlike you, I do need to sleep.”
“No. I want to watch them with you,” Knight said stubbornly.
Saint laughed, pretending that didn’t make him feel warm as he said, “Then
you’ll have to let me get my beauty sleep.”
“Fine. Not like you need “beauty sleep”, but fine.”
Saint blushed. Underneath the covers, head on his pillow, he only let himself
hesitate for a second before he tugged at the sheets, lifting them from the bed in
clear invitation.
Knight didn’t hesitate, sliding underneath with him, pushing close. His left
wing tentatively came around him, adding an extra, wonderfully grounding
weight on top of the sheets, while wrapping them in a semi-intimate cocoon.
He felt something slide against his hip and realised it was Knight’s tail,
curling possessively around his thigh. Saint’s breath hitched, his heartbeat
pounding the beat of an African drum.
“Okay?” Knight asked gruffly.
“Yes,” Saint whispered.
And he wanted. Fuck, he wanted so badly it was as if he couldn’t breathe. But
when he thought about voicing it, it left him feeling strangled.
 He’d never had sex. Never been kissed until Knight. He’d never let himself,
brave enough now to admit he’d been overruled by that dastardly mix of shame
and fear. But this fear felt different.
It wasn’t the fear of sin and the imagined punishment that might follow it,
but the fear of surrender. Of handing Knight his vulnerabilities out here in the
real world where it would mean everything.
“You said ... you said human food doesn’t do much for you,” he whispered,
his gaze somewhere on Knight’s throat. Thank God Knight was tall enough that
Saint could be excused from tilting his head back to meet his eyes. “I’m just
checking that you’re not—that my emotions are enough for you? You said you
feed on emotion, right?”
“Yes. And you are more than enough.” The phrasing made Saint feel tender,
self-conscious. “I’ve never felt more satisfied.”
“Really?” he said, disbelieving. “Are you sure?”
Knight sounded amused. “I’m sure. I swear it. There’s a reason there are
entire sects devoted to feeding on human souls and emotions; for some reason, it
is so much headier and more fulfilling than feeding from our fellow demons.”
“Ah. I see. And ... and you really don’t need skin to skin contact?” Oh God.
Saint didn’t need to look at him to know Knight was raising an eyebrow, his
lips probably curled into a teasing smirk.
When Knight spoke again, his voice had gone about ten octaves deeper. “Is
that an invitation, little bunny?”
Saint’s belly clenched up hot and tight. He swallowed, hesitating. Then said
in a rush, almost bracing himself, “Maybe?”
He felt more than saw Knight’s grin, then soft lips pressing against his
forehead. He trembled when those lips moved, Knight whispering against his
skin, “Ask me again when you mean it.”
Saint felt the sensation of falling, but like a bird thrown from a cliff, he didn’t
feel any fear.
Not when he had wings to fly.

OceanofPDF.com
 NINE

He opened his eyes to find Knight once again staring at him jovially, his face
resting on his palm, forearm resting on the pillows. His heart gave a giddy little
stutter.
“Not really a morning person, are you?” Knight teased and Saint realised he
was glaring.
He frowned harder. “And you’re always awfully energetic for someone who
doesn’t even sleep,” he said, voice rough.
Knight laughed. He tried to move forward, his eyelids dipping. Saint held his
palm to Knight’s face to stop his momentum, making the demon laugh again.
The sound and the feel of his lips moving against the inside of Saint’s palm made
his belly flutter.
He took that as his cue to get up, only briefly checking his phone to switch
off his upcoming alarm and check his notifications.
By the time he came back out of the bathroom and had finished getting
dressed, Knight had made breakfast.
Saint blushed when he saw Knight had made hash browns, fried eggs,
sausages and thick, buttered toast. He’d made the hash browns on Saturday, but
considering everything else he’d made, despite his ravenous hunger after his
hangover, Saint hadn’t been able to eat it all. But yesterday, when he’d made the
dishes again, Saint had made sure to try every single one, not knowing when he’d
get the opportunity again. Knight must’ve noticed how much he’d liked the
hash browns.
It felt awfully domestic, both of them leaning against the kitchen counter as
they ate, Saint scrolling on his phone, while Knight thumbed through the
paperback Teresa had given him when they’d gone to brunch with her yesterday.
Knight tapped his lips when they were done eating and he’d magicked their
dishes clean. Saint rolled his eyes, but dutifully puckered his lips, tilting his head
up for a good morning kiss.
The soft press of his mouth opened that pool of heat in Saint’s lower belly,
making it flood his entire body.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Knight murmured against his mouth.
Saint pecked him again, smirking and refusing to respond to that.
On the walk to his shift, Saint kept glancing at Knight from the corner of his
eye, fondness blooming as Knight eagerly took in the sights and sounds, even
though they’d strolled around the quarter before they’d had brunch with Teresa
yesterday; something to do just to get out of the flat and stretch their legs. One
would think he was seeing it all for the first time.
What the fuck are you doing?
It wasn’t the first time Saint had asked himself that question.
Since Saturday, he only found himself falling harder—flying higher with
every moment he and Knight spent together. The book clutched in Knight’s
hand was a romance book, because when Saint had teased to Teresa how much
Knight apparently loved romances, his best friend had literally pulled the book
she’d been reading from her bag and handed it over, ignoring Knight’s protests.
“The author literally gave me that herself, but don’t worry, I’ve got a contact!
I’m sure I can get more copies.” She’d suddenly grinned, her pretty eyes wide.
“Wait! We can have our own three-person book club!” Saint knew she ran an
account online where she talked all things bookish, and that she’d always been
thinking about starting a book club, in her own words, for forever.
Knight had told Saint he could use magic to multiply the copy he had, and
Saint had lied to Teresa that there was a small second-hand bookshop in his
neighbourhood, and he’d managed to snag a copy for himself.
 “That’s what’s up!” Teresa had texted back, “Because my contact only had
one copy left! God works in mysterious ways, eh?”
Saint had laughed, and now they were in a fucking book club.
What the fuck are you doing?
As they approached the school, Saint felt shy for some reason. It felt like his
boyfriend was dropping him off at work, which made his subconscious
practically scream, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
“I’ll see you in a bit,” he whispered, trying to be inconspicuous because
Samuel was already in the gatehouse.
“Don’t miss me too much,” Knight said with a wink, stealing Teresa’s parting
line.
“Go away,” Saint hissed. When Knight laughed, Saint felt like he’d
accomplished something monumental.

He went through the day in a mild daze. Weekends had always been long to him
considering he was basically a hermit and never interacted with anyone or
anything apart from when he went out to feed and play fetch with his—the dog,
or when he decided to go to Chiamaka Amala Point to eat. But this past
weekend had felt long in the best possible way, while simultaneously feeling like
the shortest weekend of his life.
As closing time approached, he couldn’t help but think of his stalker, his
heart pounding.
The first time, six months after he’d left home, they’d stalked him over the
course of six months before Saint had thought it prudent to move. The second
time, barely three months after the first, they’d done it over the course of two.
The third time, merely a month after the last, they’d done it only once before
Saint had immediately run.
Each time, they’d spread their visits and their threats about two weeks apart.
The first instance was usually something innocuous, like a flyer about a random
church offering a “deliverance” service taped to his door, or a message from an
unsaved number on his phone, citing the scripture of a Bible verse.
The next was always something more obvious; eyes following him in a crowd,
or someone walking behind him in the same direction while he walked home.
This time, they’d gone straight to the terror with a stalker and the bloody
chicken head they’d taped to his door. He couldn’t help thinking—if his stalkers
had decided to go right for the jugular without any buildup, they probably
weren’t interested in simply scaring him anymore.
And if they weren’t interested in simply scaring him, then they were going to
make a more drastic move, and soon. If Knight hadn’t been here, Saint would
have cut his losses and moved, damn whatever depressed feelings he might have
about it. His safety always came first, and staying alive, no matter how
downtrodden he felt, felt like a fuck you.
But Knight was here. And if they were going to make their move soon, it
meant Knight would be completing his end of their bargain equally as soon.
Which meant their time together might have a much closer deadline than
Saint wanted. Never mind that Saint didn’t even know what he wanted.
Fucking? Dating? A mix of the two? And then what? Knight had his
community back in Hell, probably missing him as he was away right now. And
despite Saint’s romantic inclinations, he couldn’t assume demons were
monogamous. Perhaps Knight had a lover or two back in Hell eagerly waiting
for his return. The thought made Saint’s stomach feel sour.
Mrs. Efezino wasn’t late today, at least. When Voke turned to look searchingly
around as her mother led her toward her parked car, Saint saw the moment she
must’ve spotted Knight perched on the roof of the gatehouse.
She jumped slightly, going pale and terrified—Knight was in his usual skin,
after all—but then she waved with her free hand, stifling a giggle into her palm.
Brave, obvious little thing.
She made a shushing motion with her finger while nodding, which made
Saint picture Knight suddenly, vividly. He must’ve been making the motion to
her, his lips probably curved into a teasing smirk.
Saint missed him so much at that moment it was as if he hadn’t seen him in
years instead of hours.
 Knight looked smug when it was finally closing time and he came to Saint’s
side.
“Miss me, did you?” He could probably hear how fast Saint’s heart had begun
pounding once he’d flown down from the roof.
Or maybe he could taste all of Saint’s sticky emotions in his scent. That
thought should not have been so weirdly arousing, Jesus Christ.
“Hush.”
Knight grinned. Then he sobered, making Saint subconsciously brace himself
at the sudden seriousness.
“I’ve been meaning to ask; do you think it’s possible to find a demon living in
the mortal realm?”
Saint blinked, surprised. “There are demons that live here?”
“Yes.” He offered no other explanation.
“And by live, you mean ...” Saint prompted.
Knight looked bemused. “I mean, live. Get a home. A human partner,
possibly. Remember what I told you about humans selling their souls for
nothing in exchange?” It felt wild when he’d said it then, and it still felt wild
now. “Well, contracts aren’t the only things that can tether a demon to the
mortal realm; owning a human soul does the job even better.”
Oh.
Saint tried to control his breathing. He didn’t want that. Did he? No. Of
course not. Perhaps demons were more cavalier about shit like that, but it was
way too early for him to be thinking about selling his soul, all because he wanted
Knight to stay with him for just a little longer.
“So,” Knight prompted, “do you think there might be a way to find demons
in the mortal realm?”
He tried to sound airy as he replied, “I mean, if demons actually live alongside
humans as you said, it only makes sense that they’d have some sort of
community. I think. We can check online, see if we find anything, though I’m
not making any promises.” Most likely, Saint would search up “demon
community” and it’d turn up with nonsense. He’d try for Knight, though.
“Why? Is there ... is there someone you’re looking for?”
Why did that make Saint feel irrationally jealous?
 “There is ... someone,” Knight said, almost hesitantly. Saint noticed he was
clutching the paperback in his hand tightly. “She was a part of my community in
Hell, and she’d ... well.” Knight stopped, jaw working. “She’s here, in the mortal
realm, and I fear she might be ... stuck.”
How can she be stuck, Saint wanted to ask, but Knight clearly didn’t want to
talk about it. Perhaps it wasn’t his story to tell.
“I want to know if there’s a way I can free her.”
Free her? Again, Saint didn’t ask. Knight looked honestly distressed, which
made Saint’s misplaced jealousy disappear like smoke, replaced instead with
concern.
He touched Knight’s arm. “We’ll go online first thing when we get home.”
His heartbeat jolted at the word. “I’ll make sure to cover all my bases.” No matter
how small or bogus.
Knight smiled warmly at him. “Thank you.”
Saint smiled back, feeling that warmth like a roaring flame. “Who’s the one
thanking who, now?”
“Hey.”
Saint laughed.
They were literally five steps from the gates to the compound when Saint
realised something odd. The moment he did, he stopped in place, feeling a slow,
dawning dread. A lump the size of a yam filled his throat, threatening to cut off
his breathing.
Knight spun to face him, his nostrils flaring. “Saint?” he said urgently,
glancing around. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
If they’d been followed, Knight would have known. And his red eyes were
giving an unnatural glow right now, so he must be using his magic to make sure.
Unless they’d come earlier, long before Saint had closed from work and began
making his way home. Saint glanced at the corner of the fence, at the little
alleyway hidden between his abode and the fenced ones next to it.
“Saint,” Knight said again, cupping his shoulders. “What is it? Talk to me.”
Saint shook his head almost violently. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe all his
instincts had gotten wonky since Knight had come around.
 He walked to the gate, feeling like he was moving in slow motion, unlocked
it, then slid it open.
A feeling of abject terror spread down his limbs, like his entire body had been
dipped in ice.
No, he thought, feeling numb. No. No. No.
Knight was still talking, but his voice sounded like it was coming from far
away.
The dog didn’t always come to his gates to greet him every time. Besides, he
and Knight had played fetch with it yesterday, as Saint did most Sundays, and
sometimes, the dog didn’t turn up on the Monday after that for whatever
reason. Probably sleeping off all the exercise, had been Saint’s guess.
But he knew. He knew.
He walked slowly up to the small landing and had barely spotted the limp,
bloody lump of golden fur before he was spinning around to face Knight.
“Oh God.” He was gasping, struggling to breathe. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh
God.” He pressed a hand to his chest just as his vision went dark.

Knight managed to catch Saint before he could fall. The human wasn’t
unconscious, thank Almighty, just hyperventilating.
Knight had scented the blood in the air but hadn’t been able to warn Saint in
time. Saint was shaking, gasping like a fish out of water, clutching his chest like it
was being constricted. He smelled like fear and heartbreak, and underneath it all
was a faint note of pure fury.
“Saint. Saint, can you hear me?” They’d both sank to their knees on the sandy
ground. Saint clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head. The movement felt more
like a denial than a response to Knight’s question. “Saint.” Knight squeezed his
shoulders hard. “He’s not dead,” he said urgently. He could hear the heartbeat,
though it was faint. But if Knight was going to save him, they had to do it
quickly.
 A bit of life bled back into Saint’s expression. “What?” He was crying, tears
spilling down his cheeks every time he blinked. It seemed like he wasn’t even
aware. Knight’s heart was fucking breaking. He wanted to kill the person who
did this, slowly, so he watched the life drain from their fucking eyes. And from
the way Saint smelled, that delicious taste of his anger rising, perhaps he wanted
it, too.
“He’s not dead,” Knight repeated. “But if you want me to save him, you need
to make another deal with me. Come on.”
More lucidity came to Saint’s eyes. He furiously wiped his tears away. “How
do I—?”
Knight waved a hand, and the summoning slash binding circle formed
underneath them, like a snake had dug the lines into the sand. “Tell me the
deal.”
“I want you to heal my dog,” Saint said, shoulders heaving. “I want him
whole and healthy and unharmed.”
“Sacrifice,” Knight said, mostly to himself. “Give me your hand.”
Saint sucked in a sharp breath when Knight pierced his finger with the point
of a dangerously sharp fang, then lightly licked the blood at the tip. His pupils
blew wide, and he swayed a little where he was kneeling. Oh fuck, was that what
his blood tasted like? He stared at the cut he’d made, swallowing the saliva that
had pooled in his mouth. When he looked up, Saint’s eyes were just as dark as
his.
Fuck.
Focus, Knight!
“Say the vow: Igris. Entis. Untis. Represe.”
The bond lit up between them, a second thread joining him to Saint. Knight
didn’t waste further time.
Now that he’d been filled with hope, Saint seemed steadier, holding Knight’s
arm as Knight pulled him to his feet.
He didn’t look back at Saint as he stalked to the gate protecting the tiny
landing, waving a hand to magically open it.
Then he sank to his knees by the dog. Granted the power from the new bond
he’d formed, bringing it back to full health was as easy as breathing.
 The second bond in his chest disappeared like the flick of a switch. He sucked
in a quiet breath, blinking at the slight disorientation. The dog’s ribs rose and
fell quickly, but deeply. It began whining, afraid and confused, shaking with a
lingering terror from whatever had happened to it before they’d arrived. Knight
felt another surge of fury and bloodlust.
“Oh God,” Saint cried, rushing forward.
Knight managed to clean up the spilled blood before pulling back to give
Saint some space. Saint sank to his knees by the dog, cooing and petting it. It was
still shaking and whining, though it was now nuzzling into Saint’s chest, weakly
licking his stroking fingers, its tail curled between its legs.
Saint turned to look at Knight, his eyelashes wet. He fisted the front of
Knight’s robes and yanked him down into a brief, harsh kiss.
“Thank you,” he rasped. “Thank you.”
Knight stared into his dark eyes and felt like he was drowning. He had to
swallow before he could speak. “It was no problem at all.”

The dog was finally asleep, curled up on a brand-new dog bed. The brief
contract he’d had to save the animal’s life had gotten rid of any potential
ailments it might’ve had thanks to Saint’s specificity, along with whatever
injuries had been inflicted on it before they’d found it. Knight had given it a
thorough clean with his magic, before duplicating a smaller version of Saint’s
bed for it to lie on.
Saint had stared at him, lips slightly curled at the corners, gaze intense. Knight
had felt self-conscious.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Saint grinned, taking his phone out. He’d first taken a picture,
then he’d shown Knight an example of what an actual dog bed looked like, and
Knight had altered it to match.
“Could’ve said something,” he grumbled.
 “Why would I do that?” Saint said with a soft laugh. “That miniature version
of my bed was so fucking cute.”
Saint sighed, looking down at the dog. The adrenaline rush was finally
beginning to crash; he looked like he could fall asleep right where he stood. “I
wonder if this is the first safe, comfortable place Knight the Dog has ever had to
sleep. Since I’ve met him, he’s always been houseless.”
Knight glared at Saint with mock outrage. “What did you just call him?”
Saint’s expression was playful. That little smirk was doing awful things to
Knight’s insides. “Knight the Dog.”
“Is the epithet supposed to make a difference?”
“I can start calling you Knight the Demon, if you prefer.”
Knight’s lips twitched, despite himself. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to
feel about this.” He pretended to cross his arms, frowning deeply.
Saint nudged his shoulder against Knight’s arm. “It should be an honour.”
“For him or for me?”
“For you, obviously.”
Knight couldn’t help it, he laughed. He pulled Saint into his arms, unable to
resist any longer, hugging him tight and wrapping his wings around him like he
could shelter him from all the hurts in the world. Saint let out a shuddering
breath.
“Are you all right now, little rabbit?”
His scent still held a trace of fear and panic, but they were gradually reducing
with each breath.
“Yes,” Saint murmured into his chest. “I’m fine now. Thank you again.”
“Stop thanking me.”
Saint laughed softly.
Knight gently began to stroke his hair. “Are you finally ready to tell me the
full truth about what’s going on here?” he whispered.
Saint took a deep breath. Then another. He pulled out of Knight’s embrace.
Knight reluctantly let him go, tucking his wings back to his sides.
Saint took a seat on his bed. Knight sat beside him. The dog was by the wall
in front of them, next to the bed. It was sleeping so deeply it looked almost still.
Lying on its side like that, legs spread out in front of it, mouth slightly open,
apart from the slow rise and fall of its ribcage, it almost looked dead. Maybe that
was why Saint was watching it so intently.
“So,” he began, his voice low, “Remember when I told you about my zealous
upbringing? My community and my ... church? Well, they’re a church but they
also ... might be ... a cult?”
Knight sucked in a soft breath. “Is that a fact or speculation?”
“Fact? Maybe? Okay, yes; it’s a fact.” Saint inhaled again. “To everyone else—
even to myself, once upon a time—they’re like any other church. Then, like I
told you, I was sent off to university, which had me questioning things, one of
which was my sexuality, which led me online, which led to me stumbling on
more things that ... opened my eyes to my reality, basically.
“Like the blatant, violent queerphobia. The obsession with “purity”, both
sexual and not. The obsession with converting people. How we can’t marry
outside the “community”. We’re not even allowed to have friends outside the
community. How we aren’t allowed to question anything the pastor says; how
they treat him like a god. How we, as a community, were always giving and
giving, but only a select few seemed to be reaping. How we aren’t allowed to
leave.”
That last sentence was said in even less than a whisper.
Fuck, Knight thought, heart pounding.
“We’re not even allowed to work, at least not regular jobs. Not a place where
they don’t have eyes and ears on you. I knew, with the semi-freedom I had while
I was at Uni, it would be the only opportunity I had to leave. Behind my parents’
backs, I got a job; I lied that I was spending more time on my schoolwork. Saved
up every penny. The moment I graduated, I didn’t go back. I simply
disappeared. Then they found me.” Saint’s heart gave a little jolt at the last
sentence.
Knight watched him stare at the dog. His hands were clenched on his thighs,
though Knight didn’t think he was aware of it. His heart was beating loud and
hard, and his scent had gone acrid at the memories.
Saint’s last sentence nagged until Knight realised. Saint had broken free, and
now he had members of the church after him.
Like sentries.
 “I ran,” Saint continued, “They found me again. The first time, I dismissed it
as simply a threat, a “don’t you dare badmouth our community, or else”. The
second time, I wasn’t so sure. The third—” Saint shook his head. “I don’t know
why they keep chasing me. I don’t know what they want.”
“They want you back,” Knight said simply.
Saint’s throat bobbed with a swallow. Knight reached out, taking one of
those clenched hands into his own, holding it until it softened.
“Nicquiris aren’t allowed to leave most sects back in Hell,” he whispered.
“When we do, sentries of the sect are sent after us to bring us back. It might not
be exactly the same, but I think the reason your church won’t leave you alone is
the same reason sentries are sent after runaway nicquiris. We bring them power,
and when we leave, we affect their natural order. We make others think they can
leave, too.”
Saint inhaled shakily, blinking rapidly. “Right. Fuck. That makes sense. It’s
just—it’s been three years since the last time, you know? I guess I got
comfortable. I thought I was safe—I thought I could finally—”
Knight stood before he’d realised he was doing so.
Saint’s head jerked up. “Knight?”
Saint’s eyes were wet, his expression twisted with anguish. But more than his
pain, it was the sight and scent of his bone-deep fatigue that made Knight’s fangs
and claws itch.
“Where is this church—this ... community?” he growled.
Back in Hell, Knight had felt powerless. There’d been fuck all he could do to
fight back against his sect, against fucking sentries. And even though he’d wanted
the freedom to choose how he lived after his escape, he’d been afraid to say
anything to Ammon or his fellow nicquiris, not wanting to lose his newfound
community and support. And what had happened? Ammon had ended up
banishing him anyway.
He’d been powerless then. Voiceless.
But out here?
“What?” Saint stood as well. He glanced quickly at the dog when it jerked in
its sleep. They froze, but the dog didn’t move again. Saint looked at him,
whispering harshly, “We’re not going after them.”
 “Why sit here, twiddling our thumbs and waiting for their next move instead
of going straight for the throat?”
“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Saint insisted stubbornly.
Knight scoffed. “Want to try that again?”
Saint clenched and unclenched his fists. “Fine. Yes, I dream of making them
as afraid and isolated as they’ve made me—I dream of them going through this
shit, forcing them to feel everything they’ve made me feel practically my entire
life but only because I’m tired and I’m furious, and I would never do that in real
life. That would make me just as bad as them.”
“No, them doing this shit to someone innocent is what’s bad. You retaliating
will be giving them exactly what they deserve.”
Saint shook his head rapidly. “The dog was my mistake. They’ve only ever
tortured me; I didn’t think they’d notice or care about anything else—I didn’t
think they were watching so closely that they’d know how important h-he was to
me—”
“Saint.” Knight scooped him back into his arms. At first, he remained stiff,
breathing shakily.
Eventually, his breathing steadied, and he relaxed. “I just want to be left alone,
Knight. I just want to be left alone,” he repeated, soft, heart wrenching.
Knight ached. He wanted to kill every single person responsible. He wanted
to torture them first, make them feel everything Saint had felt since they’d
started this psychological torture, then watch them slowly bleed out by his feet.
Almighty, he just wanted to do something.
Saint pulled back, meeting his eyes. “Promise me you won’t hurt any of
them,” he said insistently. “If they come again—if you, by some chance, catch
them, just—do what you did with the other guy and make them leave me alone.
I don’t want you to hurt anyone.”
Knight clenched his jaw.
“Knight.”
His clenched jaw worked. “Can I at least land a pre-emptive strike—find
them before they make their next move, stop them before they can even carry it
out—”
“Knight.”
 Knight made a noise of frustration.
“I summoned you for protection,” Saint emphasised roughly. “I need you to
stay with me and protect me.”
Knight looked into his eyes and realised he couldn’t deny Saint anything. He
would give him everything, if he asked for it.
“All right, all right,” he said, reaching out, ribs expanding when Saint easily
came into his arms. “I won’t hurt anyone. Not unless you want me to.”
That last bit wasn’t necessary, but Saint didn’t fight him on it so he counted it
as a win.
“Is there a way—can I add Knight the Dog to the contract?” Saint pulled
back to ask.
Knight wrinkled his nose. “Are you really naming him that?”
“No,” Saint said with a laugh. “I just really enjoy teasing you.” Knight’s chest
warmed. “And even if I did, you’re the original Knight; you shouldn’t be
jealous.”
“I’m not jealous of a fucking dog, Saint.”
“Uh huh.”
“And yes. We can make another contract that protects him, too.”
“And Teresa, as well? Perhaps Voke?” Saint frowned. Knight saw his mind
rapidly working. “Fuck, I don’t know how they’re going to try to hurt me again;
they might go for any of them, even if Voke isn’t all that close to me. Fuck, they
might go after Samuel—or any of the kids at the Primary School.”
Is this how you’re going to live? Knight thought with barely concealed
frustration. If they’d gone after Saint three times before, Knight had a feeling
they weren’t going to stop. And it didn’t seem like they were only interested in
scaring him.
They didn’t just want Saint terrified, they wanted him dead. By their hands
or Saint’s, Knight wasn’t sure. He was a little bit afraid it was the latter.
And how was this going to work? Was Knight going to protect every single
human being Saint had ever come across until the cult realised they couldn’t
touch him, directly or indirectly, and finally got the point? And what if they
never did?
Then again ...
 Knight’s heart pounded. Then again, if the cult never left Saint alone, then
his contract with Saint would never end.
Knight would get to stay.
The longing was so sharp it shortened his breath.
“Yes,” Knight said before he could talk himself out of it. “We can add literally
anyone you want to a new contract.”

OceanofPDF.com
 TEN

Knight hadn’t wanted Saint to have any nightmares after his ordeal, so, when
he’d finally fallen asleep, he’d slipped into his dreams. He didn’t interfere or alter
any of it, just left himself hanging in the periphery, moulding the Veil anytime
the dreams threatened to turn dark with memories of that evening.
He didn’t know how he ended up in that semi-familiar forest. Saint hadn’t
summoned him; this wasn’t their shared dreamscape, just a regular dream.
But the scent in the air, the sound of Saint’s rapid footsteps as he ran ahead
felt real enough. Knight was taking one step toward the trees before he could
think about it, desire sharp like a blade in his belly. He managed another step
before he forced himself to stop; forced the urgent burn of lust to cool.
He wouldn’t do this in Saint’s subconscious, especially after Saint had made
his rules about their games pretty clear.
Unless ... had Saint meant they could only do this in their dreams? Knight
shook his head. The fact that he couldn’t be sure—added to the fact that Saint
hadn’t summoned him—made the decision for him.
He forced himself out of the dream and back to the real world, where Saint
was lying curled in his arms, breathing softly.
Knight sighed. His eyes flashed as he manipulated the aether, his intention to
magically float over the novel Teresa had them reading from the dresser, when he
heard Saint’s breathing change.
 He blinked, going still, preparing himself to re-enter Saint’s dreamscape if it
had turned into a nightmare. Saint was breathing only a little bit quicker, but he
didn’t smell like fear or stress.
In fact—
Knight inhaled deeply. Saliva promptly pooled in his mouth. Fuck. That was
the syrupy sweet smell of Saint’s arousal, slowly thickening in the air between
them.
Just as he began convincing himself that Saint probably was still in that
dream, possibly being chased by a “dream” version of Knight, Saint’s palm
moved, coming up to rest flat against his chest.
Knight forgot how to breathe for a second. His robes parted eagerly, giving in
to his subconscious need to feel that warm touch directly. This time, he actually
held his breath, afraid he’d crossed a line.
The palm didn’t move, no doubt feeling the rapid thud of Knight’s heartbeat.
Was he awake?
Knight inhaled sharply when the hand adjusted, and he felt a single finger
slowly begin to trace lines over his chest.
He bit his lip, ignoring his stiffening nipples and trying—and failing—to
keep the blood in his head from rushing down to his groin. It was simply an
innocent touch, Saint probably drawing some sort of comfort from the gesture.
Only, the lines didn’t feel random. He was drawing a circle, Knight realised.
An intimately familiar summoning circle.
Knight looked down at the same time that Saint looked up. They were both
breathing hard, the sound loud in the hushed darkness of the room. Saint’s dark
eyes were even darker, his desire plain for all the world to see. Knight’s dick
jerked.
He grabbed Saint’s hand, stopping him from where he’d still been tracing
that circle onto his chest agonisingly slowly, over and over again, all while his
eyes had been locked on Knight’s.
“Tell me,” Knight said, his voice so hoarse it was barely recognisable.
“I want you,” Saint whispered, his voice just as rough.
Fuck. Knight trembled. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
 It was Saint’s turn to tremble, but his voice was sure and firm, and he didn’t
break eye contact when he said, “Do you remember when we went to Teresa’s
party? We drove past a forest.” Knight’s heart began to knock violently against
his ribs. “I want you to take me there.” His voice dipped, so low Knight had to
use his supernatural abilities to hear. “Then I’m going to run.” Oh Al-fucking-
mighty. Knight’s tongue felt too big for his mouth. “You’re going to chase me.
You’re going to catch me. I may or may not give in immediately. And when I do
give in, because this is going to be my first time—” The scent of a blush rose,
mixing headily with the scent of his arousal. “—I want you to make it good. I
want to remember it, always.”
“Done,” Knight said roughly. “On one condition.”
Saint was already smiling, a trace of nervous excitement bleeding into his
scent. “Telepathic link?”
“It lets me know we’re on the same page at all times. So, yes. Telepathic link.
No arguments.”
Saint grinned, looking giddy. “No arguments, here.”
Knight pulled him close, then abruptly lifted them both out of the bed using
his wings. Saint made a strangled, surprised noise, clutching his back, his fingers
brushing the base of Knight’s wings. Knight shivered all over.
“Will Knight the Dog be safe while we’re gone?” Saint asked worriedly,
glancing in the drooling animal’s direction. He’d turned from his side to his
back, belly exposed, legs akimbo. Knight’s chest squeezed with affection.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, he’ll be perfectly safe.” The second contract he’d
made with Saint to protect his friends and acquaintances throbbed in his chest
next to the first one, as if in acknowledgement. “And I thought we weren’t going
to call him that.”
One of Saint’s hands left his back to trail along Knight’s still exposed chest.
He peeked up at Knight from underneath his lashes, making Knight’s heart once
again try to escape his ribs. His voice was low, seductive when he said, “Are we
going to spend the rest of the night worrying about our dog’s name, or are we
going to play?”
Our? Knight might have glitched for a second. Saint didn’t seem to realise
what he’d said. Knight wasn’t about to point it out.
 “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Hold on tight.”
The moment Saint’s eyelids fluttered closed, Knight pictured the forest they’d
driven through on one of the best nights of his life, then sent them flying
through the aether.

When Saint opened his eyes, he was standing in the middle of a small clearing
of an unfamiliar forest. Alone.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Was he really about to do this?
This wasn’t a dream. His dreams with Knight had felt so vivid as they’d been
happening, but standing here right now, they paled woefully in comparison to
reality.
That was real darkness around him; that was the sound of the crickets and
frogs and other night creatures, loud and startling. He could barely see past a few
feet, nothing but trees around him. Wherever Teresa had hosted her queer party,
plus the little dirt road that had led to it—they were both far from here.
Saint’s fear rose as he thought, the house Teresa had hosted at couldn’t be the
only one. What if there were other buildings here? There could be people; what if
someone caught him and Knight running through the trees? What if, by some
miracle, they cottoned on to just what kind of “game” Saint was playing?
His heart seized, his stomach dropping as he imagined the disgusted,
judgemental looks that might pass their faces, that ugly, pesky sense of shame
trying to rise. Voices—like his pastor’s, his mother’s, his father’s—rose to scream
at him that he was a sinner, that he would never be enough, that he was
disgusting and dirty and bad, and wrong, wrong, wrong—
“Do you want me to count, little bunny?”
Saint nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced wildly around, but Knight
was nowhere in sight. It made fresh fear pour into his limbs, but not the fear
from before. This fear was sharp. Sweet. It made his blood run as cold as it did
molten.
“Shall we pretend we’re playing a game of hide and seek?” Knight’s tone was
almost mocking.
Saint’s dick twitched. “Shut up,” he said.
Knight chuckled. Whatever magic he was using made the sound echo
through the trees.
Saint took a deep breath. He glanced down at his feet, his heart skipping
when he realised he wasn’t wearing shoes, but it felt like he was. Knight must’ve
done something to protect them.
Saint’s heart swelled. He was fine. He was safe. Knight would never let
anything hurt him. Not unless he wanted it. That thought practically set his
blood alight.
“One.”
Saint’s heart jolted.
“Two.”
“I said shut up,” Saint snarled as he began to move, stalking quickly through
the trees. In his dreams, his fear had been slightly abstract because the terrain of
the dreamscape always shifted to match his desires, aiding him in his race away
from his hulking demon.
Out here, he was completely blind, led only by true fear and instinct, the
ground and forest around him looming and unforgiving.
From a stalk, he broke into a jog. He heard something snap behind him and
sucked in a frantic breath, breaking into a run.
Knight’s chuckle echoed around him again, making that delectable fear curl
warmly around his belly and spine like a friend. His feet pounded on the forest
floor, but unlike his dreams, his movements were louder, more obvious. If
Knight had been an actual predator, Saint’s noises as he ran would’ve been like
the call of a siren.
A hand grabbed his, nearly sending him flying off his feet at the abrupt halt in
momentum.
Saint screamed, his fear ratcheting deliciously higher at the thought that
someone other than Knight could’ve heard the sound.
 He kicked in the direction the hand had grabbed him, but both the hold and
Knight were gone, nothing but his husky laughter echoing around him.
“Run, rabbit, run, rabbit—”
Saint spun in a different direction, trying not to stumble over roots and rocks.
He’d barely run a minute when Knight caught him again.
He screamed as familiar arms wrapped around his waist from behind, lifting
him into the air, his legs kicking.
Knight shoved him unceremoniously to his knees. Whatever protection he’d
used for Saint’s feet, he must’ve used for Saint’s entire body because Saint could
barely feel the scrape of rocks and dirt through the thin material of his pyjamas.
Before he could gain his bearings, Knight had shoved him face-first into the
dirt, that same magical protection keeping him from truly getting bruised. But
the roughness of it—
Knight yanked his arms behind his back in a way that made him feel the pull
in his shoulders but wouldn’t truly hurt him. He gripped both of Saint’s wrists
in his left hand, his right wrapping around Saint’s throat.
Saint was so hard he was leaking.
He tried to struggle out of Knight’s grip, his chest heaving with fear and
arousal and his frantic race through the trees. When he couldn’t so much as
budge, his dick gave a desperate, aching pulse, his balls already threatening to pull
up.
“Why are you pretending, little bunny?” Knight leaned over him to whisper.
The sound of his voice, so low and so deep, made Saint’s lower belly clench
up tight. “Fuck you.”
Am I being too rough? Knight whispered into his head.
Don’t you fucking stop, Knight, I swear to God, Saint telepathically snarled
back.
Knight laughed in his head. In reality, he whispered, “Oh, must we do this?”
“Let me go!”
“Why?” Knight sounded airy. Bored. Saint’s dick felt like it was on fire. He
had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering. Knight yanked him
up to his knees by his throat and his wrists. Saint couldn’t quite swallow down
his moan at the manhandling, his dick flexing needily. “Oh? What was that
sound? I want to hear it again.”
“Fuck you.” He was already dying for release, which made him want to dig
his heels in, not wanting it to be over too soon. “Let me go.”
“No.”
Saint sucked in a sharp breath when Knight’s right hand left his throat and
went around his body to find his hard, leaking dick. He was so desperate for it,
so primed that his hips immediately jerked into the touch, a whine building in
the back of his teeth.
He heard the sound of wings, then Knight was pressed intimately into his
back, knees spread wide, framing Saint’s legs.
Knight rocked his hips forward, not bothering to muffle his pleased grunt as
his hard length rubbed against Saint’s bound hands. Said hands curled
traitorously, wanting to feel that girth against his palms.
Knight began to brutally stroke him off at the same time that he used Saint’s
bound hands to get himself off.
The image of them on the forest floor—how lewd and debauched they must
look—flashed through Saint’s mind, and he was suddenly on the brink.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck—” he cried, his hips arching.
“Yes?” Knight prompted darkly, licking a stripe up his shoulder, then sucking
a bruise into his throat. His fist tightened around Saint’s leaking, throbbing dick,
pumping so fast—so hard and so fucking good, Saint’s eyes began to roll back
into his skull.
“Yes!” he gasped, hips jerking. “Yes, yes, yes—”
Knight bit his shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough for
Saint to feel it—to feel the sharp points of his fangs.
He saw white. His mouth fell open on a soundless scream as he came and
came hard, his spine arched so tautly it felt like he’d broken something.
“That’s it,” Knight was crooning, still milking his prick, making him mewl
and see stars. “Fuck, that’s it.”
Knight let his wrists go and spun him around. Saint fell back onto the forest
floor, wrapping his limp arms around Knight’s neck, thrusting his hands into his
locs and yanking him down with him to join their lips.
 They kissed hard, messily. Saint felt a spark of something—he tasted that
something in Knight’s mouth, smoky and rich like chicken suya—and on his
next blink, they were back in his flat, on his bed.
“Fuck,” Saint panted. Had that been his magic? “Knight. I c-can’t be quiet.
The dog—”
Knight made a familiar complicated motion with his hand, then Saint let
himself be swept up into his kiss.
Knight kissed him like it was going to be his last kiss on earth, like he’d never
kiss again, licking and sucking on Saint’s lips, thrusting his tongue into his
mouth until Saint’s dick began to harden again.
When Saint needed air, Knight began trailing kisses down his throat. He
made a noise of frustration when his lips encountered the corner of Saint’s shirt
and sat up. His eyes were glowing so brightly in the dark, a thin ring of red
around large, black pupils.
“Take your fucking clothes off before I rip them off.”
Jesus. Saint moaned, his dick abruptly stiffening to full mast. He sat up,
quickly removing his soft cotton shirt and bottoms and his underwear, throwing
them off the side of the bed, uncaring where they landed.
“You too,” he said breathlessly, watching hungrily as Knight’s robes
disappeared, melting from his body like they’d really been made from smoke.
Knight’s wings were spread wide behind his back, his locs falling down his
back and shoulders like mossy vines. The golden jewels in the thick strands
glittered, making Saint think once again of how it made Knight look like royalty.
He greedily took in that big, broad chest. His thick pecs and small tight
nipples. His softly defined abs and fuck, that flushed, dark purple dick, with
three ridges circling just underneath the head. The thought of how those ridges
might feel inside him had Saint clenching in anticipation.
The way Knight was looking at him, eyes hooded, teeth sunk into his lower
lip, made Saint feel incredibly sexy. It made him want to arch, to preen.
Knight cupped the full globes of his ass and used it to lift him up the bed to
meet his mouth. Saint grunted, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance, while
he burned with newer, higher levels of desire than he’d thought possible.
 Knight cradled the back of his head, then dropped forward, his wings easing
their momentum until Saint was lying on the sheets on his back once more.
He once again trailed kisses down Saint’s throat, his shoulder, then to the
sensitive little buds on his chest. Saint cried out, arching into the heat of his
mouth.
That feel good, little bunny? Knight spoke into his head, reminding him they
were still telepathically linked.
“So fucking good.” Saint was almost sobbing. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
Knight sucked hard, then scraped his teeth along the sensitive peak, nearly
sending Saint flying out of his skin. His hand flew up to Knight’s head,
intending to grip his hair but found the solid curve of a horn instead.
Knight made a harsh noise, his hips jerking into the bed. Saint tugged on the
horn, and Knight groaned again. Behind him, Saint could see Knight’s tail
flicking sharply in the air, his wings arched high and wide.
Does that feel good, angel? Saint tugged lightly on the horn for emphasis.
Fuck. Yes. So fucking good. Angel?
Is that okay? Can I call you that?
Saint made a noise of surprise when Knight moved up abruptly, taking his
mouth in a deep kiss.
His red eyes burned when he pulled away to meet Saint’s eyes. “I love it.”
Saint couldn’t be sure, but it felt like Knight was blushing, which made Saint
blush, too.
He arched when Knight dipped his head again, pushing his chest further into
the wet heat of Knight’s mouth as he sucked and laved at his sensitive nipples,
switching from one to the other until they were both throbbing and begging for
mercy.
Then he kissed and sucked at Saint’s soft, round belly, going lower and lower
until he was swallowing Saint’s entire dick whole.
“Holy shit!” Saint cried, his second hand flying to join the first, gripping
Knight’s other horn. Knight growled against his dick, sending his hips jolting up
at the vibrations. “Fuck.”
Yes, Knight hissed into his head. He threw Saint’s legs over his shoulders like
they weighed absolutely nothing, his cheeks hollowing sinfully around his prick.
Fuck my mouth.
Yes, please, Saint thought in response, his dick jerking. Gripping his horns for
leverage, he began to rock his hips, fucking his dick into that plush, wet mouth.
He glanced down, his lower belly quivering when he met the bright red glow of
Knight’s eyes in the darkness.
“Oh God.” Knight began to bob his head, moving in time with Saint’s
thrusts. His forked tongue slid up and around Saint’s shaft, concentrating on
the sensitive underside. “Oh fuck, yes,” Saint rasped, his toes curling. “Fuck. Just
like that. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
They kept up the eye contact until Saint was shaking and practically flooding
Knight’s mouth with pre-come. He was arching, almost yanking Knight’s horns
when the demon abruptly pulled off his needy length.
“No, fuck—” Saint’s hips thrust uselessly. The difference from the heat of
Knight’s mouth to the cool air on his saliva slicked dick had him stiffening
impossibly harder. “Oh fuck, Knight, please—don’t you fucking dare—”
Knight laughed huskily, going even lower, taking both of Saint’s tight balls
into his mouth.
Saint fell back against the pillows, letting go of Knight’s horns so he could
grip the sheets instead, his hips lifting into his demon’s mouth, his heels digging
into his back, against his wings. “Oh fuck, Knight.”
Knight used the opportunity to slide his hands underneath Saint’s hips,
cupping his ass and keeping him elevated off the bed as he moved his head even
lower.
Can I? Saint could hear his desperation even through the link.
Please, please, please, was Saint’s frantic response.
The first touch of that slick tongue against his asshole nearly had Saint
coming untouched. His dick leapt against his stomach, leaking clear fluid all over
his belly, all the air driven out of his lungs.
Knight licked repeatedly at his hole, his tongue so slick and long and firm it
didn’t take long at all before Saint’s hole had softened and opened up. Then
Knight licked into him, thrusting his tongue inside, getting Saint wet and sloppy
in seconds.
 “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Saint was babbling, back to gripping Knight’s
horn with his right hand, hips rocking into his mouth.
Knight groaned as he ate his ass like it was breakfast, his eyes clenched shut,
eyebrows furrowed like he really was savouring the most delicious thing he’d ever
tasted. His tongue pumped into Saint like a dexterous tentacle, curling and
shifting, reaching places inside him that Saint wasn’t even aware had existed.
He frantically reached for his weeping dick with his left hand, needing to
come.
Knight’s eyes flew open. Saint’s hands were yanked up above his head by an
invisible force and pinned.
“Knight.” His dick flexed against his belly, his balls jerking. His asshole
clamped around Knight’s tongue, which only drove him wilder.
Not yet, Knight commanded roughly.
“Fuck.” Saint’s thighs began to shake.
Knight leaned up slightly, his lips glistening. His red eyes flashed in the
darkness and a slick finger probed against Saint’s slightly stretched hole, the nail
blunt. He must’ve retracted his claws.
It sank in with barely any resistance.
Knight lowered his head once more, then slid his tongue in alongside his
finger.
Saint felt like he was coming even though he clearly wasn’t, his dick so stiff he
could’ve pounded nails with it.
The movement of Knight’s tongue and his finger had grown sloppy,
uncoordinated. Saint only then noticed that Knight had his hips lifted off the
bed, like any slight pressure to his dick would send him flying off the edge. The
thought buoyed Saint’s own pleasure, pre-come streaming from his slit like a
faulty tap.
Knight added another finger.
“Please,” Saint begged. “Oh please oh please oh please—”
Not yet.
“I’m going to die if you don’t get your dick inside me right fucking now,
Knight.”
You’re not going to die. Amusement coloured the words. Don’t be so dramatic.
 Saint arched, clamping down hard again when Knight added a third finger.
He didn’t know if Knight was using magic or if it was that amazingly slick
tongue, or if he was just that stretched, but all he felt was a sharp sting, which
quickly faded the longer Knight remained still, waiting for him to adjust.
Yes, Saint sent through the link when he was ready. Please, please, move—
Knight obeyed, thrusting his fingers, gently flexing them, working on
loosening him up. His tongue rolled between each finger, his saliva acting like
the best kind of lube. He kept glancing just off Saint’s prostate with the tips of
his fingers, making Saint feel like he was going to lose his mind.
He looked up from between Saint’s legs, glowing red eyes meeting his.
Is that good? He firmly stroked against that sweet, swollen spot as he asked,
nearly sending Saint’s hips flying off the bed.
Yes, yes, please, please—
You feel so full, huh? Exactly how you like it, yeah?
“Oh God, please,” Saint begged out loud, gasping, clenching rhythmically
around the fingers inside him, utterly wanton. “Make me come, make me come,
make me come—”
Not yet.
“I need it.” Saint didn’t care how shameless he sounded. “I need it. Fuck,
Knight, I need you.”

Something about those last three words hit Knight like a punch to the solar
plexus. He’d been managing to ignore his own pleasure and arousal, wanting this
night to be something Saint never forgot, as he’d requested, but the moment
Saint spoke those words, his resolve broke.
He slid his tongue out of Saint and quickly moved up, licking a stripe up his
flushed, leaking dick before swallowing it down his throat. At the same time, he
curled his fingers.
 Saint’s entire body tensed, his lovely thighs shaking as he came, mouth parted
on a silent scream, arse clamping down tight on Knight’s still thrusting fingers.
Knight let his magic restraints go, and Saint’s hands immediately buried
themselves in his locs, holding on tight.
“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my God.” He sobbed as Knight kept bobbing his
head, cheeks hollowed, sucking every last drop from his throbbing prick, fingers
gently milking his prostate. There were tears in Saint’s eyes, glittering on his
lashes. “Oh fuck. Oh God.” The scent of him right now? Knight wished he
could bottle it.
He finally went limp, and Knight quickly eased his fingers out of his arse. He
slid up the bed, bracing his left hand on the pillows beside Saint’s head. Then he
tilted Saint’s hips up, gripping one thick thigh in his right hand and holding it
open, nudging close, biting his lip viciously the moment his dripping length
came in contact with his stretched, loosened hole.
His intense ministrations and Saint’s still orgasm-loose body meant he sank
in with barely any resistance.
“Shit,” he grunted, clenching his thighs together to keep from just shoving his
entire dick in. “Shit, shit, fuck.”
Saint moaned, long and loud. “Oh fuck. You feel so good. Come on,” he said,
words almost slurring, still riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Come on,
angel. Fill me up—”
Knight slid the rest of his length in, shaking with barely concealed need. He
obediently lowered his head when Saint tugged at his locs, and joined their lips.
When Saint sucked on his tongue, Knight lost it a little, his hips jerking. Saint
clenched up in surprise, which had Knight gasping and seeing stars, his hips
jolting again. He was so fucking tight, so wet from Knight’s saliva and a bit of
magical lube that for a moment, Knight couldn’t control the way his hips began
hitching desperately against Saint’s ass before he managed to wrest control of
himself and stop, his dick pounding.
Fuck, fuck. Are you okay?
“Yes, yes.” Saint was whimpering against his mouth. A little sensitive, but it
feels so fucking good, don’t stop, don’t stop.
Fuck. Knight rocked his hips. He moaned. Oh fuck, oh fuck.
 “Fuck yeah, fuck me, fuck me—”
Knight’s strokes gained a rhythm, long and hard and deep, until Saint
couldn’t speak any more, gasping with each deep thrust. Between their bodies,
Saint’s dick was trying to rise again. Knight lifted his right hand, licking his palm
until it was wet, then slid it between them, cupping Saint’s twitching length.
He began to sob, his nails digging into Knight’s scalp.
All right?
Too much, too much, Saint sent back, but at the same time it was overlaid with,
don’t stop, don’t stop.
Knight nipped at his jaw, panting. Which is it, little bunny?
It’s too much, but in a good way. Don’t stop.
You’re so fucking good to me. Taking me so well. Being so fucking perfect. My
perfect little rabbit.
“Knight,” he sobbed.
Knight didn’t stop, timing each pump of his hips with a stroke to Saint’s dick
until he was fully hard again, trembling beneath him like a leaf, no doubt
painfully sensitive. More tears had gathered on his eyelashes, sliding down his
temples like a trail of silver against his pretty dark skin.
Fuck, Saint, you’re so good. You’re so lovely.
Knight.
“Tell me again.”
Saint’s eyes fluttered open. What?
“Tell me again,” Knight repeated in a low whisper, leaning down to join their
foreheads. Tell me that you need me.
“I need you,” Saint said without hesitation, teary eyes locked on his.
The reaction was the same. Knight jolted like he’d been electrocuted. He
buried his face in Saint’s throat, sinking his teeth into his shoulder, careful not to
break the skin.
Oh fuck!
Yes?
Oh fuck, oh fuck. Do you want—Saint’s voice was halting, but Knight could
read his sudden desire, could taste it on his skin. You can—if you want—
 I can what? It had barely been a few minutes and Knight was already so
fucking close. Anything, anything.
Bite me.
Like the words had been a command, Knight’s fangs sank in another barest
inch, puncturing skin.
The taste of velvety rich iron—Saint’s blood, his life force—
Knight’s wings jerked, lifting them slightly off the bed. He grabbed Saint’s
hips as he came with a muffled shout, his hips slapping hard into his human’s.
He forced his head away from the bite before he could be tempted to sink his
teeth in a little harder, a little deeper, red eyes flashing as he used his magic to
heal the wound shut.
“Shit. Almighty.” His back was arched, his hips still rocking as his orgasm
stretched out.
At some point, Saint had reached between their bodies, squeezing his dick as
he came with a strangled, almost pained-sounding cry, his body seizing up.
They landed back on the bed with a muted thump when it was over. Both of
them were shaking, their naked bodies hot and slick with sweat. Knight couldn’t
help but lick Saint’s throat where he’d bitten him, going for any stray droplets of
blood.
He dropped his head onto Saint’s chest when he was done, breathing hard,
listening to the wild thump of his heartbeat. His wings drooped around them
like an extra blanket.
Saint made a disgruntled noise when Knight’s dick softened and slipped out
of him. Knight dipped his fingers down between his legs, feeling around his
stretched hole where he was soppy wet, thrusting two fingers inside, fingering his
release back into him.
“J-Jesus.” Saint trembled. Fuck, you’re filthy.
You like it.
I like you.
Those words should not have made Knight burn the way they did. I like you,
too.
When he made to remove his fingers, Saint clenched weakly around them.
The scent of his blush rose.
 You can—you can keep them in. Just for a little bit.
Yeah? Filthy little bunny.
When he looked up, Saint’s eyes were closed, but he was smiling.
They were silent for a few moments, catching their breaths, slowing down.
Knight could hear the sound of cars and people from here, though the walls
managed to muffle them enough. The dog was snuffling quietly on his bed.
Saint sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Knight took that as his
cue to remove his fingers, gently magicking the mess away from their bodies.
“Okay?” he whispered, squeezing Saint’s hip, his ear back on his ribcage,
listening to the pounding of his heart.
“Mhm,” Saint said, sounding half-asleep already. His hands were in Knight’s
hair, gently stroking.
“I’m not too heavy?”
“You feel good, just like this,” he whispered. Knight went warm all over.
“Now, stop talking.”
Knight laughed weakly. In another moment, Saint’s hands slowed, then
stopped altogether, his breathing deepening. Knight felt high, like he’d taken a
thick dose of druntreame. He closed his eyes and decided to join his lover in the
world of dreams.

OceanofPDF.com
 ELEVEN

Saint was on cloud nine. For a moment after he’d woken up, he’d been afraid
that all the years he’d spent deprogramming would mean nothing in the face of
crossing that “final” line last night. He’d been afraid he’d regress, that he’d be
disgusted with himself and end up pushing Knight away, and he’d have to
remember to be gentle with himself while he deconstructed all over again.
But the shame didn’t come. Neither did the guilt nor the disgust or the self-
hatred. There was no space for shame when he was filled to the brim with bliss,
so happy he felt like a hot air balloon being continuously pumped with warm
fire, rising endlessly into the sky.
He and Knight had changed positions at some point during the night and
were on their sides, Knight’s wing draped around him. That pesky tail was
wrapped around his thigh, Knight’s hand firm and warm on the curve of his hip.
When he clenched his asshole, he felt a deep ache in remembrance of how
Knight had felt inside him and shivered with remembered pleasure.
Knight had noticed he was half-awake and pressed a gentle kiss to his
forehead. Saint decided to switch off his alarm the first time it went off, feeling
so good he’d wanted just “five more minutes” in Knight’s heavenly embrace.
Except, he’d pressed the “off” button instead of the “snooze” button and had
had to run around like the main character in a slice of life anime when he’d
realised his blunder.
 He only just made it to his post in time, having to use a keke. Knight had
clutched at Saint’s thigh for dear life during the ride, deathly afraid of the little,
three-wheeled vehicle, which had made Saint laugh even as his chest had
bloomed with affection.
As they’d gotten off the ride in front of the school, a stray thought had flitted
through his mind. I wish you could kiss me right now.
Knight had turned to him and taken his chin in his thumb and forefinger and
planted a kiss on his surprised lips, right there in the middle of the pavement.
“Knight,” Saint hissed, blushing and looking frantically around.
“Don’t worry; no one saw.” Knight grinned and wiggled his fingers, red eyes
flashing.
How had he known? Are we still connected telepathically?
Yes. Knight’s grin widened. Do you want me to end the connection?
Saint felt a weird jolt at that. He didn’t know why, but it felt good having
Knight in his head like this. Along with the delicious ache in his backside, the
warm presence in his subconscious reminded him of last night, how good it had
felt to surrender to Knight completely, let him take control—
He cleared his throat. No, it’s fine. Now, go away. And remember we’re only
supposed to read up to chapter six. He eyed the novel in Knight’s hands pointedly.
Knight laughed. Your wish is my command.

Even though Knight’s second contract with Saint would do enough to make
sure the dog and all of Saint’s friends and acquaintances wouldn’t be targets of
his former church slash cult, unbeknownst to Saint, Knight had placed a ward
on his home, just in case one of them decided to pull a stunt like they’d done
yesterday.
And lo and behold, while Saint was having lunch with his co-worker, one of
Knight’s wards went off.
Someone had just walked up to the entryway to Saint’s abode.
 Knight had to take a deep breath to quell the rage building up in him. Then
another. And another. He listened to Saint’s laugh as he and Samuel talked in
the gatehouse underneath him, using that as a calming agent.
Knowing Saint didn’t have a view of the roof of the gatehouse while he
worked, Knight simply took his leave, disappearing and reappearing in the small
landing of Saint’s home, where there was indeed a strange person holding a small
bucket of what looked and smelled like blood.
Knight’s rage rose again. He let his glamour fall off.
The human was too startled to scream, their breath escaping their lungs on a
tiny, terrified gasp. Knight grabbed the front of their shirt in his right hand and
yanked them off their feet, lifting them up until they were eye to eye. The
human grabbed his wrist with both hands, struggling. They stank of fear, their
lungs barely able to take in air.
“Saint is mine,” Knight growled, flashing his fangs. “Do you understand?”
He made a disgusted noise when the human abruptly emptied their bladder,
beginning to sob and pray.
Knight grinned ferally. Then he abruptly let go. The human crashed to the
ground.
“Run,” Knight whispered.
They got up on shaky legs, turned, and ran, leaping over the fence like it was
nothing.
Knight chuckled. He stood still for a moment, but the two bonds in his chest
remained. Either what he’d just done wasn’t enough to deter the cult, or he’d
have to wait and see if it would.
The thought almost filled him with fear. He closed his eyes, flexing his hands.
He wanted to stay with Saint more than anything, but he’d gotten over his
weakness of yesterday.
After the magic that had been last night, if he was staying, he wanted it to be
because Saint wanted him to, not because of their contracts.
But even though Knight might not be well versed in everything human, he
had the feeling humans—thanks to their short life spans—were more selective
with whom they shared their hearts with. It made him feel maybe it was too
soon, too fast for Saint. Sure, they’d had liaisons in their dreams, but they
probably didn’t mean as much considering Saint hadn’t even accepted them as
something real until he’d been forced to summon Knight.
Which would make it all the sweeter if Saint now chose him.
But then there was the fact that Knight had nothing. Would Saint accept him
without the contract? When he had nothing else but his protection to offer? If
only Knight had the courage to ask.
He quickly got rid of the evidence of the encounter. He hadn’t broken his
promise to Saint, but he had a feeling Saint might still be upset with how he’d
handled the situation. But hey, at least he’d gotten the human to leave, and
maybe once they shared this encounter with the rest of them, they’d grow scared
and pull back.
Cross checking to make sure nothing of the stranger remained, Knight
teleported back to the roof of the school.

After lunchtime, as the day progressed, Saint began to feel a faint feeling of
dread. He tried to ignore it but it persisted.
Like Knight could scent his anxiety in the air, he asked, Are you all right?
I’m fine. Saint sent back firmly. The demon didn’t push.
The last time he’d felt this happy had been the first time he’d run away.
Months after he’d run away, when he’d stopped looking over his shoulder and
had thought perhaps, he really could start rebuilding his life. He’d thought
maybe distance would make the heart grow fonder, that his mother would
eventually understand—
Saint flinched away from the memories.
Every single time he thought—just when he was grasping onto some form of
happiness, they swooped in and crushed his joy, no matter how small it was, like
they could somehow sense it. Saint had learned to survive, then, pushing his need
to live further and further away, promising himself some “secure” future where
he could finally be free of them.
 That future felt so close to his grasp now, he could almost taste it. And
because it felt so close, ironically, was exactly why he was afraid.
He’d had to let Knight the Dog out of the flat because he’d whined and cried
for freedom, possibly too used to living outside. Hopefully, Saint could
eventually train it out of him. Knight had reassured him that it didn’t matter
where the dog went, he would remain untouched. If they ever came across him,
their eyes would pass right over him, like he was any local dog.
Teresa, Voke, Mrs. Efezino, Samuel, and heck, practically everyone at the
school was covered, too. That lay everyone Saint could possibly care about. Saint
was fine. He would be fine. They’d definitely get the hint this time around and
leave him the fuck alone.
Still, that feeling of dread refused to go. An insidious voice told him to clutch
at this all-consuming happiness while he had it, because he wouldn’t be having it
for long.
He told that voice to shut the fuck up.
His relief was palpable when he and Knight walked home—holding hands!
His heart pointed out giddily—and Knight the Dog came bounding from his
corner, mouth open, tail wagging madly.
Saint didn’t bother with the snacks, grinning when the dog’s tail practically
went wild when Saint didn’t drive him away as he opened the smaller gate to his
home and unlocked his door.
The dog was whining even though it was clearly happy. It darted back and
forth at the threshold, as if still unsure of Saint’s invitation.
“Come on,” Saint crooned. “You spent the night here last night, and you
were fine, weren’t you? Come on, big guy. It’s all right.”
The dog eventually darted in, tail tucked between its legs. Saint leaned down,
crooning and scratching behind its ears until it felt calm enough to explore,
sniffing absolutely everything in the room.
Knight had helped him out with some dog food. The moment the dog
smelled the bowl in the corner, it swooped in and began to eat, its hind legs
nearly lifting off the floor with how happily and eagerly it chomped away. Saint’s
heart felt so fucking tender.
 Finally semi-alone and without an audience, Knight tugged Saint into his
arms to kiss him properly. Saint grinned into his mouth. Then his stomach
growled.
Knight laughed, pulling back from the kiss to murmur against his mouth,
“Any requests?”
“Are you seriously about to become my personal chef?”
“Yes.”
Saint laughed. “Okay. Hm. I’ve always wanted to try ramen.” He brought up
a few references on Knight’s phone, which he hadn’t failed to notice was a
carbon copy of his own.
Knight’s red eyes glowed brightly as he looked through the pictures. “Done.”
Saint pecked his lips. “I’ll just go take a quick shower.”
“You take too many showers.”
“Pouting cause you’re going to miss me?”
“Yes.” Saint couldn’t help but kiss him again, his lower belly filled with
butterflies. “But my point still stands.”
He laughed. “You try working in the disgusting heat of this country all day
and tell me you won’t feel all sticky and nasty when you get back home. I’ll see
you in a bit, angel.”
Knight’s wings fluttered at the endearment, though his expression didn’t
change. Saint smiled giddily to himself.
Underneath the spray of the shower, he couldn’t help but think of last night.
He slid a hand down to squeeze his half-hard dick, biting his lower lip as he
stroked until he was fully erect and throbbing.
He was about to reach for the soap and slick his free hand, desperate to
recreate that fullness inside him, when he felt a curious knocking in his head.
He stopped, holding his breath. He felt the knocking again. His breath
caught, and his dick stiffened even further, pounding agonisingly.
He mentally pictured a door in his head opening, giving Knight permission.
Enjoying yourself, little bunny?
Fuck. Saint’s hips jerked, his dick bulging in his fist at the husky sound of his
voice. Guess demons did have supernatural senses, then.
 Instead of shying away like he instinctively wanted to, he replied, Yes, I am.
Very much.
Fuck. It was Knight’s turn to curse. Tell me exactly what filthy thing you’re
doing, Saint.
Saint’s fist began to move, slow and torturous over his straining length.
Stroking my dick.
Mm. Does it feel good?
He was shaking, his balls pulled up tight to his body already. Knight’s voice in
his head sounded so intimate; more intimate than he’d imagined phone sex
might be. Yes. So fucking good, Knight.
Good. Stop.
Saint whined, hips jerking. He quickly let go of his prick, turning to press his
forehead against the tile, every inch of him burning. Fuck. He’d almost come at
the command. Knight. He was so hard his erection stood straight up, pressing
insistently against the curve of his belly.
He felt a slight pressure against his hole. He whipped his head around, heart
pounding, but there was nothing and no one there.
Knight?
Hands on the wall, bunny.
Holy shit. Saint spun back around, his hands obediently slapping on the tile.
The pressure pushed unerringly into him, filling him up and making him cry
out, lifting onto his toes, fingers scrabbling at the tile. Oh my God. Oh my God.
It didn’t hurt, but he felt every inch as it stretched him as wide as he could go
just short of hurting him, until it was pressing against his swollen prostate.
Feel that?
Knight, fuck, fuck, oh my God.
His hips flew forward, his arse clenching around the girth inside him when he
felt another invisible touch on his dick, wrapping around it tight and stroking.
At the same time, the pressure in his ass began to move.
Saint frantically, helplessly rocked his hips, eyelids fluttering, his palms
pressed so tightly to the tile they hurt. It was a different but just as intense kind
of pleasure when his restraints were all in his own head.
 Saint was almost embarrassed he didn’t last long at all. All he needed was a
warm pressure against the tight, sensitive points of his nipples and he was
coming with a strained, broken cry, the orgasm so intense black spots danced in
front of his eyes. Knight didn’t stop his magic until Saint was whimpering,
trembling in oversensitivity.
All right? Warmth surrounded him on all sides, the pressure in his ass, around
his dick and nipples easing, then disappearing.
Yes. Jesus, Knight.
His response was a pleased, little rumble.
Saint had to rest against the wall for a few moments before he regained
strength enough to shower properly.
When he came out of the bathroom still on jelly-legs, Knight was on the bed,
his eyelids low on his eyes, pupils so wide they nearly swallowed the glowing red
of his iris.
Jesus Christ. Saint took in his flushed cheeks, his loosely spread thighs, and the
slightly rapid rise and fall of his chest. Fuck. Did you—while you were—while I
was—?
Yes.
Oh Jesus. Despite the intense orgasm, his dick threatened to rise again.
Though he still felt self-conscious, he didn’t tell Knight to look away as he
headed to get dressed. After last night—after just now …
You don’t have to turn away if you don’t want to, he said through the bond,
still too shy to say it out loud.
Knight paused; he’d been about to do just that. Really, now? Saint could feel
his eyes on his shoulder blades, making his skin tingle.
Yes.
Are you sure?
Yes.
It made him feel ridiculously sexy as Knight watched him moisturise. And if
he took his sweet time massaging the cocoa butter onto his skin, who was going
to check him?
Fuck. Why did he feel like he was giving a strip tease when he was putting
clothes on? And his plain old cotton pyjamas, at that.
 By the time he was done, they were both breathing slightly heavily, and Saint
was impossibly more than half-hard. Knight the Dog seemed to have tuckered
himself out and was curled up on his dog bed, eyes closed, content.
Knight reached for him when he came to the bed, eyes intent.
Saint crawled into his lap to straddle his thighs, cupping his face and joining
their mouths. Knight let out a pleased grunt, his hands cupping the round
globes of Saint’s ass and squeezing.
They kissed, over and over, so deep and so hard it was as though they wanted
to disappear into each other’s mouths. Their tongues tangled, breaths mingling
hotly, and they didn’t stop even when they were both trembling and gasping.
“Food,” Saint rasped between kisses.
Knight smiled against his mouth, the movement making Saint’s lower belly
flutter madly. He gave Saint one more kiss, soft and sweet.
They were both flushed as they pulled apart, their lips swollen and glistening.
Knight floated over their bowls of ramen as Saint adjusted his position beside
him, pressing his thigh to Knight’s, wishing he could somehow imprint all that
warmth radiating from the demon’s body onto his soul. When Knight’s wing
draped around him, tail curving almost possessively around his hips, his entire
body gave a giddy little shiver. It felt like he was in the cinema and his boyfriend
had just sneakily but not so sneakily placed an arm around his shoulders.
His laptop was already open and waiting, paused on an animated movie
they’d planned to watch.
“Oh, yeah. In all the excitement of yesterday, I forgot to help you with finding
the demon community in Arehjia like I promised. Shall we do that after the
movie?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.”
Knight leaned over to plant a kiss on his shoulder. He pressed play. If Saint
had had wings, they would have fluttered.
“Who is she, by the way?” Saint asked about two hours later. They were done
with their food and their movie, and Saint had typed up “demon community in
Arehjia” and had unsurprisingly gotten a few hits. “The, uh, demon you’re
looking for.”
He guessed he didn’t sound as nonchalant as he’d hoped because Knight
sounded amused when he said, “She’s a friend. A good friend. When I stumbled
upon the nicquiri community, she’d been the newest member. I guess we
bonded that way. Then she began to sneak off to the human world.” He snorted
out a brief laugh. “She was a lot braver than me.” He sounded a cross between
heartbroken and wistful.
Not wanting to stir bad memories by asking probing questions, Saint said
lightly, “I mean, I think you’re plenty brave yourself.”
“Maybe.” He glanced at Saint, his melancholy fading for a bit, replaced with a
warm smile. Saint stopped typing and turned to face him, giving him his full
attention. “But I never went for what I wanted. I never even tried to contemplate
if I could want—I was afraid to dream of anything other than what I had because
I didn’t want to lose the community. Demons aren’t wired the way humans are,
you know? Because we feed on emotion, we literally need community to survive,
or we eventually wither away and die.”
“So, it’s not really about bravery, then, is it?” Saint replied softly. “It’s about
necessity. You did what you had to to survive.”
“Yeah, but you had the courage to leave—to forge your own path.”
Saint huffed. “Yeah, but it wasn’t really about courage, though.” He thought
back to those days. He didn’t remember feeling brave; he remembered feeling
like he was going to die. Wasn’t it funny how he’d never experienced the violence
of his church first-hand, yet the thought of leaving had filled him with so much
terror? If they were just as innocuous as any other church, why had he felt so
afraid to leave? He’d felt like the punishment for leaving was death, when there
was no evidence of anyone saying or threatening that. He’d just known. That
thought had been the final nail in the coffin to cinch that he might indeed be in a
cult.
“It was me balancing my need to live against my need to survive. I had to
think about how, if I left, I would lose everything. My family. My friends. My
home. I had to think that if I did leave, it might be worse, that I wouldn’t survive,
that I might come crawling back, that I’d learn everything they’d said about the
“outside” world was true, and I wouldn’t last a day on my own. And if I did
come crawling back, the punishment for defecting would be severe. I thought
about all that, and I had to take a gamble on my happiness. And while I
wouldn’t change it for the world, it doesn’t mean I’m any braver than those who
actively choose to stay because they see that as the only way they can survive.”
Knight was watching him with soft eyes. Kiss me.
His eyes widened when Saint obediently leaned in, and Saint huffed out a
laugh. Did you forget we still have this thing on?
This thing? It’s called a telepathic link.
That’s such a mouthful.
They were both grinning when their lips met, then laughing because a grin
wasn’t exactly conducive for kissing. Saint didn’t fail to notice the little shiver in
Knight’s wings when their lips finally properly met in a sweet kiss, which
perfectly matched the fluttering butterflies in his belly.
When he pulled back, he turned to the laptop, running his pointer finger
along the touchpad because the screen had gone dark.
“What’s her name? Your friend.”
“We called her Pink.”
“Do demons not have names?” Saint asked curiously, remembering Knight
had phrased it similarly when Saint had asked him his own name.
“Not really. We get our names from friends, family, and community based on
certain characteristics, or from nicknames, or we pick one ourselves. We called
her Pink because of her hair.”
“She has pink hair? I like her already.” Knight laughed. “Why do they call you
“Cunning”?” It was such a unique name; Saint hadn’t forgotten it.
Knight hesitated briefly. “Because of the way I escaped my sect.”
 Saint turned to look at him once more. “And how did you escape your sect?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes. I really do.”
Knight stared into his eyes, one after the other, like he was making sure.
“In most sects in Hell, there are demons we call “Priests.” They are second in
command to the Sovereign, the sect’s leader, and they oversee everyone else in
the sect under the Sovereign’s command. They have magic, but not like nicquiris
can manipulate the aether; their magic is stolen from the earth in Hell, gathered
in gems and other precious stones. They use that to keep everyone in line.
“Depending on how big a sect is, there are usually multiple Priests. Tricking a
Priest is basically unheard of; most nicquiris either escape with the help of
another nicquiri, through the dreamscape, or they run off to the mortal realm
where the sentries can’t follow. Well, I kind of lured my Priest into a false sense
of trust, then I brutally murdered him and used his stones to escape. Hence,
Cunning was born.”
Saint was not about to unpack why he found the image of Knight deceiving
and then brutally murdering his captor sexy as hell.
“But, like I’ve told you before, I much prefer Knight.”
Saint ducked his head, blushing. He rubbed his finger over the touchpad
again. “Anyway, want to bet that most of these hits are all cults of some kind?”
he said, giving the preview beneath each link a thorough read through so he
didn’t miss anything. If there was an actual demon community in Arehjia,
would they be this easy to find?
“Are cults really that common in the human realm?”
Saint snorted. “Probably. Nigeria is a very religious country, with a lot of
narcissists posing as pastors and leaders, so I won’t be surprised. Do any of these
links jump out to you?”
“Yes,” Knight said, and Saint turned to glance at him in surprise. His red eyes
had taken that glow they sometimes did when he was using his magic. “The
third one down. I can’t take my eyes off it for some reason.”
Saint dutifully clicked on the link. Knight sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?”
 Saint glanced at him again, then at the website, resisting the urge to click
away. When he’d clicked the link, it had taken him to the search engine’s
standard warning page, telling him that the link he’d clicked was suspicious and
if he decided to proceed further, it was at his own risk.
“It’s an address.”
“It’s a what, now?” Saint turned to look again, straining his eyes. Nope, it was
still the warning page, nothing else on it. At the start of the URL was the
warning symbol telling him the site was not secure.
“You can’t see it?”
“No.” Saint’s heart began to pound. “What if only demons can see it?
Perhaps it’s a safety precaution?”
“That would make sense.”
“Can you see anything else? Apart from the address?”
“There’s a phone number. And a meeting time. Thursday, three PM.”
“This Thursday?” That was two days from now.
“Yes.”
“Fuck, okay.” He grabbed his phone. “Read me the address. What’s the plan
after you go to the meeting? If you meet any demons there, is your hope that
they might know where she is?”
“Yes. Or at least some magical way to find her. She might not be here in
Arehjia; she could be anywhere in the mortal realm. I just need a way to find her
and save her.”
Saint’s heart constricted. He stopped in the middle of typing and reached out
to place a hand on Knight’s knee. “We’ll—” He nearly jumped out of his skin,
dropping his phone back on the bed when he heard a ferocious growl. “Jesus.”
Their heads snapped in the direction of Knight the Dog, who had woken up
at some point and was now staring in the direction of the front door, growl
vibrating in his chest.
They glanced at each other. Saint couldn’t help the way his heart had started
pounding, his palms growing slick with fear.
Knight the Dog started barking, the sound deep and slightly alarming.
Knight did something with his hand, his red eyes flashing. He stared at the
wall like he could see through it.
 “It’s a woman.”
Saint stilled.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
“What is she doing?” Saint whispered, almost afraid to ask.
Knight shook his head in frustration. “Nothing. She’s just standing there.”
Oh God. Oh fuck.
“Is there a way you can show me? Through the link?”
Saint closed his eyes, bracing himself. And even though he’d been expecting
it, he still jolted when Knight sent him the image of his mother.

OceanofPDF.com
 TWELVE

“Your mother?” Knight asked with disbelief.

Saint was clenching and unclenching his hands, his eyes locked on the front
door.
“Every single time I’ve run—except this one—only one person had known
where I was.” Knight’s heart clenched at the thought of that kind of betrayal. He
reached out, placing a hand on Saint’s knee. Saint easily covered it with his own.
“I could never prove that she’d given them my address each of those times—
which was why I kept trusting her—but when I decided to move to Arehjia, I
was too paranoid. And she’s always been—” He shook his head almost violently.
“When I moved here, I cut her off like I’d cut off the rest. When nothing
happened for over a year, it felt like proof. However they found me this time, it
had nothing to do with her.” He shook his head again, letting out a bitter-tinged
laugh. “I’d thought of her as a victim, you know? Then I learned people can be
victims and perpetrators at the same time.”
“Do you want to talk to her?” Knight forced himself to ask. “You know you
don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“Don’t show me, but what’s her expression like?”
Knight turned to look. He wanted to lie because he didn’t want Saint facing
his mother after her supposed multiple betrayals, but he wanted Saint to make
an informed choice.
 “She looks sad. Scared, maybe.” Knight squeezed his knee. “Don’t let that
affect your judgement.”
Saint swallowed. “I won’t. I just—I need to see what she wants, all right? If I
don’t, it’s going to eat at me.”
“I get it. I have your back, Saint. Whatever happens, remember that I’m here.
I won’t let her hurt you.”
Saint glanced at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “I know.”
He turned away, then visibly shut down his emotions. The change was so
sudden and so complete, Knight almost felt like he had whiplash. The Saint
sitting beside him was now so cold and detached it almost made Knight afraid.
“Stay here,” Saint said as he left the bed.
Inappropriately, Knight felt his dick twitch at the cool command. “As you
wish.”

Saint wasn’t sure how to feel as he stood in front of the woman he’d called
“mummy” for most of his life. She was standing a few feet in front of the main
gate to the compound, which Saint noted was slightly open behind her. One of
the other men must’ve forgotten to lock it behind them. Either that, or they’d
willingly let her in, thinking she was rightfully coming to visit one of the others.
“They don’t know I’m here.” The first words she’d spoken to him in over
three years. “I just ... I had to come here to warn you.”
Saint stared at her. Knight was right, she didn’t look so good. Her hair was
hidden underneath a scarf, and she wore a plain, worn t-shirt with an old,
fraying wrapper tied around her waist, her feet in bathroom slippers. Her dark
brown skin was a little ashy, and she had more wrinkles on her face than Saint
remembered. Her lips were turned down, and her eyes were red and swollen, like
she’d been crying.
Saint hated that even after everything, he still wanted to save her. When he’d
first run away, she’d been his one source of comfort, of home. He remembered
her praying with him every other Sunday; her text messages in the mornings
wishing him a lovely day; her tentative questions about his defection, as if she
was contemplating leaving, too. He’d been so desperate for her company—so
eager to believe she’d been as much of a helpless victim as he was—that he’d
ignored all the red flags.
He’d completely ignored the fact that you couldn’t save someone who didn’t
want to be saved.
Those first two times they’d found him, he hadn’t even suspected it could be
her. Why would he have? But that third time? Especially with how close it had
been to the last? There was no way they could’ve been finding him so quickly
without an inside source, so he’d confronted her.
She hadn’t denied it. Instead, she’d begged him to come back, telling him it
would be easier, it would be for his own good. When he refused, and began
ignoring her calls and texts, she’d moved to emotional manipulation, sobbing
about how terribly they were treating her and how it was all his fault—if he truly
loved her, he’d come back and end her suffering, please. And when that hadn’t
worked—
Saint didn’t want to think of those last few messages. He’d changed his
number after that, then moved to Arehjia with zero ties to his old life,
determined this time would be different.
Behind him, Saint could hear the faint sound of Knight the Dog still barking.
“How did you find me?” he asked, thanking God his voice came out cool.
Steady.
“Saint.” He tried not to flinch. “If you don’t come back, Pastor Zeke is going
to use your father as an example.”
Was that supposed to scare him? Saint almost snorted. When he’d told
Knight about Nigeria being full of narcissists, his father had been included in
that. That man was practically the right hand of the Pastor, with grand dreams
of gaining his own following one day.
He didn’t like to remember those times, how his parents had simpered and
obeyed, doing everything their pastor told them to if they wanted to be “blessed
with God’s riches and get to heaven”. Nothing they’d done had ever been
enough.
 “If he doesn’t want to be used as an example,” Saint said, “then he should do
as I did and leave.”
She stared at him like she no longer recognised him. “Really, Saint? Wow. So,
you really have become this heartless.”
And he’d had enough. “I’m done with this conversation. Goodbye.” Knight
the Dog had stopped barking, he noticed faintly.
“No.” She snarled the word out so desperately Saint was stopped in his tracks.
“I have come here to say my piece, and by God, as the person who cried and
suffered to bring you into this world, to feed you and clothe you and raise you,
you will listen.”
There were tears in her eyes. Saint was struck with a hope so frantic it was
painful. And then she spoke.
“You ruined everything,” she whispered viciously. “Ever since you defected, I
have become a pariah. Your father went to Pastor Zeke to atone, and he threw
me under the bus. No matter how much I begged and pleaded—it didn’t matter
how faithfully I followed Pastor Zeke’s recommendations, nothing I did was
enough.” She took a step forward, and it took everything in Saint not to take a
step back. “Nothing is ever enough when the stain of you keeps following me
around. And now you’re selfish enough not to come back and pay for your
sins?”
“Fuck you.”
She blinked like he’d hit her, her lips parted with shock. She brought her hand
to her mouth. Said hand was trembling. “Saint, you don’t understand—”
“Don’t speak my name.” Don’t taint it with your hatred and disappointment.
“You don’t realise what you’ve done,” she said, half-yelling. “No one has left
the village in twenty years! You don’t realise what you’ve done.”
The honest fear in her voice nearly put that same fear in his limbs, but Saint
stood his ground. He refused to be moved by her tears, no matter how genuine
they were. In the end, he knew she was only here to save herself.
“What happens in the village is no longer my problem. I’m not coming back.
If Pastor Zeke and his ilk think torturing me or killing me—” She flinched.
Good. “—is the best way to teach his “congregation” a lesson about what’ll
happen if any of you try to even—God forbid—think for yourselves, then so be
it.”
“Selfish. You’ve always been—” Her eyes widened when she spotted
something over Saint’s shoulder.
Saint carefully didn’t look behind him. His mother grabbed the rosary
hanging from her neck and began to murmur a prayer, taking several shaky steps
back, her hand shaking violently.
When she looked at him again, her eyes told him he was going to regret this.
Her gaze went back to Knight, and she didn’t look away until she was outside
the gates.
Then she turned and ran.
Saint sagged like his strings had been cut. Knight waved a hand and the gate
slid closed, the padlock floating over and locking itself.
Saint spun around. He didn’t know if he was angry or grateful. “Knight.”
“I know.” He pulled Saint into his arms. Saint couldn’t resist. “I couldn’t let
her keep talking to you like that. And I wanted her to be afraid. Let her go back
and tell them you’re in leagues with a demon. That ought to show them.”
Saint’s laugh was startled out of him. “Don’t make me laugh! I’m pissed at
you.”
“Are you, really?” Knight teased, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“I am. But I am grateful.” He closed his eyes. “Maybe it’s evil of me, but a
part of me wanted her to be afraid, too.”
“Guess we’ll both be evil together.”
Saint laughed again. His smile disappeared. He bit his lower lip.
What’s wrong, little bunny?
Nothing. I’d just ... forgotten.
Forgotten what?
He huffed out a slightly bitter sound. How terrible she could make me feel.
Knight’s hands cupped his hips, slid sensually up his sides. Do you want me to
make you feel good?
Saint trembled. Yes. Please.
Knight cupped his chin in his right hand, tilted his face up and kissed him.
Saint sank into the kiss desperately.
 He pulled away after a moment, whispering breathlessly, “We can’t do this
outside—”
I know. I made us invisible. But let’s go in.
Knight kissed him again, then pulled him back into the house, making sure to
lock the gate and front door behind him. He pushed Saint against the door,
kissing him hard and deep, plundering his mouth until Saint’s knees threatened
to give out.
He pulled back from the kiss and Knight immediately began trailing kisses
down his throat. Glancing in the direction of Knight the Dog’s bed showed him
the dog completely passed out. He frowned.
“Knight. Did you knock our dog unconscious?”
Knight didn’t pause in his ministrations, sucking the sensitive point that
joined Saint’s throat and shoulder, making him shiver. “Maybe?”
“Oh my God, Knight.”
“He was getting too agitated, and I didn’t want him to do something to the
place while I came out to scare your mother.”
Saint laughed again. “Oh my God, Knight.”
Knight was grinning when he joined their lips again, kissing Saint until he
was breathless. He slid his hands down Saint’s back, cupping the globes of his ass
then squeezing.
“I want to eat you out again,” he whispered huskily.
Saint’s dick throbbed. He rocked his hips, grinding against Knight’s thigh for
some relief. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay. But first ...”
He pushed Knight backward, moving with him until the back of Knight’s
knees met the bed, forcing him to sit.
“Scoot up,” Saint said, his voice hoarse.
Knight moved up obediently, while Saint quickly divested himself of his
clothes. Taking his cue, Knight’s robes melted off his frame, revealing him in all
his naked glory.
Apart from the horns and the dark purple skin, he could’ve been the angel
Saint had nicknamed him. His erection was curving toward his belly, a beady
pearl of pre-come glistening at the slit.
 Saint remembered how it had felt to have the three ridges underneath the
tapered head create delicious friction inside him and squeezed his thighs in
memory.
“Fuck,” he said on a groan, climbing onto the bed until he was kneeling
between Knight’s spread legs, running his hands up his big thighs. “You’re so
gorgeous.”
Knight’s red eyes glittered. Saint cupped his left hand around his flushed
length and squeezed, his eyes greedily taking in the tight round balls underneath.
Then he peeked even lower, at the dark, intimate space between his cheeks.
He looked back up, beginning to move his fist, stroking over Knight’s sinfully
sexy prick. “There’s no way this thing went inside me last night,” he said gruffly.
He squeezed over the head, thumb stroking the ridges, and watched as Knight’s
balls spasmed in response. He looked up, meeting Knight’s eyes. “Must’ve used
your magic or something.”
Knight groaned softly and started thrusting into his grip. “Want me to fuck
you again?” His lips quirked, fangs flashing. “Harder this time, so there’s no
fucking doubt.”
“Fuck.” Saint’s dick jerked. “That sounds like an excellent idea. But first ...”
He bent over and licked a stripe up Knight’s dick, closing his lips around the
slightly tapered head.
“F-Fuck! Saint.” Knight groaned, tilting his head back, baring his throat.
Saint felt the stretch in his jaw as he took Knight into his mouth, flicking his
tongue over the slit and sucking. He pulled off after a few moments, already out
of breath when he hadn’t even done much.
Brow furrowed with concentration, he leaned down again, finding a balance
between his breathing, sucking, and stroking, until he’d gotten a rhythm.
The moment he did, his eyes clenched shut with bliss, a thick groan of
pleasure vibrating in the back of his throat. He couldn’t help but focus on the
ridges under the head, loving the way they felt against his tongue, the roof of his
mouth. His right hand moved down to his own length, which was stiff and
leaking already.
Yes, Knight said into his head. Saint’s eyes fluttered open, settling on his.
Almighty, just like that. Knight’s jaw was clenched, eyes bright and focused. Look
so fucking pretty sucking my dick. Look at that mouth. Fuck, Saint, you’re so
fucking lovely.
Saint moaned again, the praise making him take Knight just a little bit deeper,
even though he was afraid of gagging and showing his inexperience.
The tremble in Knight’s thighs, the sound of his appreciative groans
encouraged Saint to take more and more of him until his lips met his fist at the
base of Knight’s dick.
Saliva pooled in his mouth, spilling past his lips. He swallowed instinctively,
and Knight cried out, clutching at the sheets, his thighs tensing as he fought not
to thrust. It made Saint feel so fucking heady. He had to stop stroking his own
dick, afraid he’d come before he was ready.
He bobbed his head, hollowing his cheeks, his hand fisted tightly over the
base of Knight’s length.
“Almighty,” Knight snarled, his hips flexing uncontrollably, his dick pulsing
in Saint’s mouth, leaking a fluid that tasted creamy and slightly sweet. “Shit,
that’s so fucking good.”
He spread his thighs further when Saint reached up to cup and squeeze his
balls, before trailing his fingers down questioningly.
Is this—?
Yes, Knight sent immediately. His red eyes brightened for a second, and when
Saint’s fingers pressed between his cheeks and met his hole, he found him already
wet and ready.
Saint’s dick jerked between his legs, leaking profusely. He groaned around
Knight’s dick, pulling off to gasp, his hand taking over his strokes as he probed
two fingers gently against Knight’s hole.
“I can take both,” Knight growled. “Come on, Saint. I want to feel you inside
me.”
Saint moaned again, sinking two of his fingers into silky, tight heat. His
mouth fell open, his hips subconsciously rocking, his brain trying to imagine all
that sinful tightness around his dick.
“Fuck,” he gasped.
Knight bent his knees, giving Saint easier access. Saint had to sit up, shifting
closer, eyes locked on where he was thrusting his fingers into him.
 “Jesus.” He slowed his thrusts, testing the stretch with a third finger.
“Yes,” Knight hissed, rocking his hips down.
Saint dutifully added a third finger, groaning as Knight took him easily. He
pumped his fingers in, watching Knight take him so greedily it made his head
spin.
“Oh God. I want to fuck you. Can I?”

Saint looked up, meeting Knight’s eyes, his own eyes large and dark with
hunger.
“Yes,” Knight gasped, clenching hard around his fingers. “Yes, please. Fuck
me. Come on.”
Saint made a desperate whimpering noise as he pulled his fingers out and
grabbed his dick. His left hand balanced on Knight’s thigh as he pushed forward,
his eyes rolling back into his skull as he sank in easily, all the way to the hilt.
Knight’s mouth fell open at the stretch. He had to reach down to grab his
weeping prick, stroking himself furiously, clenching rhythmically around the
hot length inside him.
“Fuck, oh fuck,” Saint whined, gripping Knight’s hips, his own hips jerking
uncontrollably, face scrunched like his pleasure was so acute it bordered on pain.
“I can’t—oh fuck, oh fuck, Knight—I’m not going to—I need—”
Knight hooked his legs around Saint’s hips then abruptly flipped them over
so he was on top.
Saint cried out as Knight inadvertently clenched around him, his hips jerking
up, hands clawing at Knight’s thighs.
“Christ,” he snarled, every inch of him shaking, his thrusts jerky, wild and
uncontrollable. “Knight!”
Knight braced his hands on the mattress beside his head and began to rock his
hips, slapping his ass down into Saint’s lap, taking him in deep. His wings were
flared wide over the bed, his tail sneaking down between Saint’s legs to tease at
his balls.
“That feel good, bunny?”
Too good. Too fucking good. Oh God, angel, I’m not going to last.
“You deserve this, do you know that?” Knight said, then swivelled his hips.
Saint cried out, back arching, his watery eyes locked on his. His pulse was
thundering, his gaze greedy, desperate. “You deserve pleasure. You deserve to feel
good.”
“I do,” Saint gasped, looking like he’d never truly believed it until now. “I do,
I do, I do—” he repeated, each with more conviction than the last.
Knight switched from bouncing to grinding, clenching rhythmically around
Saint’s throbbing length.
I can’t, Saint gasped into his head, his nails digging hard into Knight’s thighs,
his balls tightening under the teasing touch of Knight’s tail. Oh fuck, I can’t—I
can’t—
“Do it,” Knight growled, changing his movements again, trying to match
Saint’s uncoordinated thrusts as he bounced in his lap. “Come inside me. I want
it. Fill me up, Saint.”
Saint managed to shove a hand between their bodies, gripping Knight’s dick
in an almost painfully tight fist. One tight stroke and Knight was coming like a
shot, wings flaring wide, crying out and spraying all over Saint’s belly.
Saint followed with a grunt, hips flexing. “Oh God, angel.”
Knight clenched his muscles, squeezing around him, milking him. Saint
whined, back arching, eyelids fluttering.
Knight collapsed onto his chest when they were done riding the aftershocks,
making sure to keep half his weight on the mattress rather than on Saint, his
wings draping around them.
Saint was breathing heavily, one trembling hand petting at Knight’s hair.
Was that okay? He asked shyly. I did not last long at all.
It was perfect. Knight grinned. And in case you didn’t notice, I lasted as long as
you did. He leaned up on one elbow to kiss him hard. Besides, I honestly could not
have pictured better for my first time.
 Saint’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as Knight pulled back from the
kiss. “Your first time?” he blurted.
Knight laughed. “Last night was a first, too. Why are you so shocked?”
Saint’s eyes bulged harder. “I don’t know.” He huffed. “In our dreams—” He
blushed. “—you’ve always been so confident and so sexy, I just ... assumed. I’m
sorry.”
Knight kissed his nose. “I’m officially banning that word.” Saint snorted.
“You think I’m confident and sexy, eh? Tell me more about that.”
“Shut up, Knight.”
Knight laughed.
Saint peeked up at him. “So it was really okay?”
Knight’s chest constricted. His gaze helplessly softened. “Yes, Saint.” He
kissed him again, soft and sweet. “Like I said, it was perfect.”

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 THIRTEEN

Saint didn’t know how to tell Knight that he wanted him to stay. For at least a
little longer. He didn’t know how this shit with the cult was going to play out,
but the fact that his mother had come all the way to his house to “warn” him
told him they were going to escalate soon. Which meant Knight might be
making his final moves, too, and their contracts would end.
It seemed Knight already planned on staying for a bit, since he was searching
for his friend. Could Saint offer that Knight could stay with him? At least until
he found her? Would Knight even want that? But Saint didn’t want a contract
to be the reason they stayed together. He wanted to choose Knight, the same
way he wanted Knight to choose him.
It was just past noon, and he was sitting in the little gatehouse while Samuel
did his rounds. His right hand held Samuel’s little portable handheld fan to his
face, while in his other hand, he held the book he, Knight, and Teresa were
reading. They’d progressed enough to get to the first sex scene. The day was
blistering hot, and the sexiness of the scene was not helping.
Knight’s silence was very suspicious. He wondered if the demon was on the
same page he was. A bolt of arousal shot through him at the thought. Was
Knight feeling all hot and bothered right now? Was that why he hadn’t yet done
his little magic thing to help cool Saint down?
He was just wondering if he should poke his head over the roof, ask for a little
kiss while no one was here, when he felt a sharp, brief pain in his head, like his
literal brain had been stung by a wasp.
“Ow.” He clutched the side of his head, which was still throbbing. What the
fuck?
Knight? Are you all right?
Saint slowly dropped his hand, ignoring the ache, which was slowly fading.
His pulse thundered. Unlike the bonds he and Knight shared thanks to their
contracts, Saint had never been able to feel the telepathic link in the same way,
possibly why he and Knight often forgot it was even there.
Now, though, he swore he could feel its absence. Apart from the throbbing,
his head felt almost too light.
Knight? He tried again, throat bobbing with a swallow.
Silence.
Taking a shaky breath, Saint stood. He dropped the novel on the plastic chair,
then left the gatehouse, pretending he needed to stretch. When he was standing
at the other end of the gate, he turned to look back.
Knight wasn’t on the roof.
For a moment, Saint just stared.
Knight? Can you hear me? What’s happening? Where did you go?
Nothing.
Okay, Saint thought to himself, trying to force his racing heart to calm down.
He slowly walked back to the gatehouse and took his seat, placing the novel in
his lap. Okay. All right.
Maybe ... maybe Knight had gotten a warning or something from one of their
contracts. Perhaps Knight the Dog was being attacked right now and he’d had to
teleport to his side to make sure he was safe.
Then what happened to the telepathic link?
Knight? Saint tried once more.
Don’t panic, he told himself. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Just cool
down and wait until you get home. He might even return before then.
Saint forced himself to open the book, though he couldn’t concentrate on
any of it. Samuel eventually returned from patrol, and Saint had an actual
conversation with him; he even remembered laughing, but he had no idea what
the fuck either of them had said, his thoughts running a mile a minute.
 He was too distracted to say his usual goodbyes to his favourite kids and
parents. Thank God Mrs. Efezino was early today, which meant the moment the
school was closed, Saint could go home.
The thought of walking made him feel like throwing up, so he took a keke.
His anxiety seemed to have been manageable all day long but had finally reached
its peak. Each time he’d tried to contact Knight through the telepathic link, it
was like he was simply talking to himself in his head.
The keke dropped him off at the top of the dirt road, and Saint briskly walked
down to his compound.
He felt no relief when he saw Knight the Dog bounding out from his corner.
The dog froze, then started barking at something behind Saint, spittle flying
from its lips, tail tucked between his legs.
Saint didn’t bother looking around. He immediately broke into a run.
He was yanked back unceremoniously by his collar before he could even
make it a step. He opened his mouth to scream, and a sharp smelling cloth was
clamped over his nose and mouth.
He inhaled sharply with shock before he realised he should have held his
breath. He tried to fight, eyes on his gate and his compound, his lips weakly
mouthing, “Help me.”
His arms were already too heavy, his eyelids refusing to stay open. His words
had come out a rasp instead of a shout. Hands caught him under the armpits as
he began to sink to the floor.
The last thing he saw was another person stepping into his line of sight,
rushing at Knight the Dog with what looked like a stone. Knight the Dog turned
and ran, the stone missing him by just a few hairs when the stranger lobbed it.
Thank God, was Saint’s last thought, and then he blacked out.

Knight had made a decision, damn the consequences. He was going to ask Saint
if he could stay. Obviously, the only way he could stay was with a contract—he
wouldn’t even dream of Saint selling his soul; it just didn’t feel like something
Knight had earned or would ever deserve. Saint was just ... so good. So sweet. So
lovely. Knight wasn’t sure how old he was, but he had the rest of his human life
ahead of him, especially once they dealt with the cult once and for all.
Saint would probably tire of him once that happened. Knight was probably a
novelty, a release after he’d been trapped for so long. Once this whole ordeal was
over, Saint would happily tell Knight he’d had an amazing time and he would
never forget it, and that would be the end of that.
But Knight wanted him anyway, for as long as he could have him, even if that
wouldn’t be long at all. He would be honest, lay on his cards on the table, even
though the thought terrified him.
Outside of escaping his sect, he’d never wanted anything this ardently. Where
once his future had felt like a big question mark, an empty vastness, now all he
could see was Saint. Whatever shape the rest of his life took, his only fervent wish
was for Saint to be in it.
Right now, Saint was underneath him in the gatehouse, reading their book
club’s novel. The other security guard, Samuel, had gone on his rounds.
Knight couldn’t concentrate on his book. He’d initially planned on waiting
until this contract with Saint was over before he spoke about his feelings, just so
he’d have an excuse to disappear if Saint rejected him, but he’d decided, fuck
that.
It would be awkward if Saint said he wasn’t interested in anything else, but
Knight was a big boy, he could take it.
He was wondering if he could sneak down to give Saint a few kisses because
he missed his mouth, when he felt one of his traps at Saint’s house go off.
Using his magic, he quickly made the roof underneath him transparent.
Below him, Saint was completely engrossed in his book. Knight’s heart swelled
with fondness.
Not wasting another moment, he teleported straight to the house.
Saint’s mother was standing at the gates. She seemed to feel Knight’s presence
when he appeared, because she spun around, her left hand already flying to the
cross at her throat.
“You have some nerve coming back here,” Knight growled.
 The small woman was praying frantically, rolling her fingers around the balls
of the rosary.
Slowly, her shaking right hand lifted, holding something out toward Knight
as if to ward him away.
It was a straw doll. Come to think of it, it looked like a crude, miniature
version of him, with horns and wings and a tail.
Knight almost laughed. He made to take a step forward and felt a sharp,
piercing pain shoot through his skull, at the same time that something bright
and blinding flashed in front of his eyes.
He cried out, stumbling backward, eyes clenched shut against whatever it
was.
When he forced himself to fight the pain and open his eyes again, he wasn’t
standing in front of Saint’s house anymore.
He glanced around, heart pounding. He was in a forest. And from the height
of the trees and the feel of the atmosphere, he knew, somehow, he was back in
Hell.
Saint, he thought frantically, immediately trying to go back to him.
The Veil didn’t budge. He tried again. And again. And again.
He sank to his knees, staring at his shaking hands.
No.
What the fuck had that woman done to him?

Saint’s head lolled groggily. He made a noise, soft, pained. He was lying on
something hard and unforgiving, his arms and legs spread out from his body and
tied down at the wrists and ankles. Around him, multiple people were talking.
His eyelids fluttered; it hurt to open them, but he wanted to see where he was.
He stared up at paintings of angels on a curved white ceiling. He could faintly
make out stained windows. It was dark behind them, though it didn’t tell Saint
how late it was.
 “He should be waking up soon,” a slightly familiar voice was saying. “When
he does, ring the bells immediately. Then I want each one of you to go down to
the village and make sure every single soul is inside this building as soon as
possible.”
Saint’s heart leapt into his throat, and he was suddenly wide awake. He
recognised those cheap paintings on the ceiling, the high curve of it. To his left
was the carving of Jesus erected on the cross, still bright and polished to
perfection, the only thing that Pastor Zeke had ever really cared about. Fuck,
even the smell was the same.
He must’ve been out for at least six hours; Arehjia was a five-hour drive from
the little village that had once been his home.
He’d thought he’d feel afraid if he was ever brought back here. A bone-
chilling terror that would freeze his limbs and steal his breath.
But all he felt was cold, hard rage. He was literally tied down on some kind of
concrete slab on the church’s altar, with men he didn’t know or recognise
talking around him like he didn’t exist, and all he could feel was fury.
What had they done to Knight?
Someone approached the stone slab and none other than Pastor Zeke himself
was standing above him.
“Ah,” he said, a slight smile perpetually curving his lips. Once upon a time,
that smile had made him look kind, humble. But once Saint’s eyes had opened to
the truth, it made him look like he held a secret no one else knew and was
endlessly laughing at their expense. “Saint. Saint. Saint. I knew this day would
come.” He turned, signalling to someone. “The bells, Jacob. He’s awake.” He
turned back to Saint. “Nothing to say?”
Saint glared at him, wishing he could somehow burn a hole into his forehead.
Knight, he thought desperately. Where are you? Are you hurt?
Pastor Zeke leaned down abruptly. His smile didn’t disappear, but his gaze
had hardened. He grabbed the short strands of Saint’s afro, the pain of it making
him suck in a sharp breath.
He leaned down so they were almost face to face, whispering harshly, “You
think you’re the only one with connections? Did you really think hanging
around a demon would deter me?” Saint refused to let himself react, even
though his heart pounded with shock and alarm. “What you failed to consider is
that I have powers of my own.”
He let go abruptly. Saint’s head pounded agonisingly.
Fuck. He almost laughed. Of course having a devoted following wasn’t
enough; how could it be? Pastor Zeke had probably made deals with Native
Doctors—Nigerian shamans—so he could keep his power for as long as possible.
Perhaps, without his mother’s help, and with no other leads, Pastor Zeke had
turned to his Native Doctors to help him locate Saint.
Dealing with Native Doctors, just like dealing with demons, came with a
price. Saint wondered what price Pastor Zeke had paid.
The bells of the church began to toll.
“Chika, bring the cane.”
Saint didn’t outwardly react, his heart speeding up once more. He’d
forgotten, or perhaps he’d violently suppressed it, but he was remembering now,
some of the reasons he’d been so terrified to leave the village.
Reasons like Pastor Zeke flogging members of the church in front of the
entire congregation to punish them, then ordering the village to shun them for a
specified period afterward. Sometimes, if the “sinners” didn’t want to be
shunned, they took their punishments in private, and from the rumour mill—
from the few times Saint had seen folks leaving the sacristy dead-eyed or in tears
—the private punishments were even worse. And they were pointless in the end
because the village still shunned them anyway, like their punishments had made
them tainted.
Saint shook with fury and torment at the reminders, the latter only making
the former burn hotter. He must’ve forced himself not to remember all these
years, a part of him knowingly afraid he might give in to his thirst for blood and
do something reckless. And then where would he be? There was no way he’d
have been able to stop Pastor Zeke and his ilk on his own.
But he wasn’t alone anymore.
Knight, where are you?
“The rest of you, go into the village,” Pastor Zeke was saying. “Make sure you
rouse everybody and bring them here. It is time we all learned a lesson in
discipline and forgiveness.”
 He turned to look at Saint, a beatific smile in place. “After all, I am nothing if
not forgiving.”

Knight’s nail beds were bleeding. His brain felt like it was too big for his skull.
Travelling the Veil usually took nothing at all; it was like an instinct, like
teleporting. Closing your eyes and then you were there.
But right now, because of whatever trick Saint’s mother had played on him,
he could see the Veil, like a shimmery fog all around him. Each time he reached
for a corner, trying to peel it back, to see into the mortal realm, it was like
dipping his fingers in a smoke made of acid.
Knowing he couldn’t go to Saint bleeding, he healed himself quickly and
tried again. Manipulating the aether was another thing that was as easy as
breathing. Knight had just never done it long enough that it made every inch of
him ache, like he’d been bashed all over with a battering ram.
But the longer he tried to pull back the Veil, every inch of him straining, the
more solid the Veil began to feel.
His mind and heart were locked on Saint, and he began to catch glimpses.
Hazy images of Saint being stripped naked. Strapped kneeling to an elevated
stone slab. Was he in a church?
He could hear a faint ringing, like toiling bells.
Knight.
He jolted. “Saint?” he said out loud. Had that been him? Or had Knight been
so desperate for him he’d hallucinated his voice?
Knight, Saint repeated, his voice calm and clear and so fucking lovely Knight
wanted to sob. I need you.
Knight grit his teeth. Ignoring the pain in his limbs, the pain that was
threatening to split his head, he grabbed the smoke in front of him like it was a
cloth and ripped.
They’d taken Saint’s clothes off, leaving him in just his underwear, and had
forced him to kneel facing the pews. His arms were held out and tied down by
his sides, forcing him to maintain his posture or risk dislocating his shoulders.
None of the people had arrived yet, just Pastor Zeke and his lackeys.
And Saint’s father. He’d been the one to strip Saint naked. Saint refused to
meet his eyes. He was sitting there right now, in the front pew to Saint’s left.
If he hadn’t been bound so tightly, he’d have been shaking. Not with fear or
cold, but with his burning rage. His heart felt cold, his very soul seething with
hatred.
Pastor Zeke had changed into his vestment and was holding a Bible. He paced
in front of Saint, mouthing an impromptu sermon. On top of the stone slab by
Saint’s knees, his thin, polished wooden cane glimmered.
I hate you, Saint thought. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
Then, with every fibre of his being: Knight. Knight, I need you.
A few seconds later, he blinked rapidly. There was someone standing at the
end of the nave, between the rows of pews. He’d appeared like a phantom from
white smoke.
Dark wings arched high. Glowing red eyes. Thick ram-like horns and a slowly,
flicking tail. Swirling black robes, and deep, purple skin. His hands were fisted by
his sides. Saint faintly noticed they were leaking something, dark liquid dripping
slowly from his fists to the floor. Was that blood?
When he blinked again, Knight had moved.
All the men turned to look when they heard the sound of a bloody gurgle as
Knight ripped the nearest man’s throat out, and the body hit the floor.
Then chaos.
The men began to run, most of them shouting. Knight popped in and out of
existence, leaving the men dropping like flies. Some managed to escape through
the side doors. Pastor Zeke had been the first to move, running in the direction
of the sacristy.
The air burned in Saint’s throat with the iron taste of blood when he was the
only one left in the main hall.
Knight popped into existence in front of the altar and tore his bonds off.
Then fell into his arms.
On his next blink, they were gone.

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 FOURTEEN

“Knight.”
Knight’s head lolled. He was lying on a familiar bed, his head cradled in
someone’s lap. Vaguely, he could hear a dog barking. “Why is Knight the Dog
still outside?” A strangled laugh that sounded like it was strangely mixed with a
sob met his ears. His eyes fluttered open. He smiled, though it felt wobbly
around the edges. “Hey, bunny.” He frowned, blinking rapidly to focus his gaze.
“Why do you look so distraught?”
“How can I help you?” Saint was saying desperately. “You’re bleeding
everywhere. Knight!” he yelled when Knight attempted to close his eyes. “Don’t
you fucking dare! What do you need? Tell me what you need right now!”
“But I’m so tired ...”
“If you die on me, Knight, I swear to God! I thought demons were
immortal?”
He tried to laugh, but he felt too weak. Gently, he felt Saint easing him out of
his lap and onto the bed.
“Okay,” he was saying. “Okay. Fuck. Okay.”
Knight felt him leave the bed. He tried to make a noise of complaint, his heart
beginning to pound with panic, but he was just too tired. He heard the sound of
rustling, and when he blinked again, Saint was back, kneeling beside him on the
bed.
 A hand gently tapped his cheek. His hazy eyes landed on his lover. He looked
so sweet. So kind. “Knight, can you take your robes off for me?”
Knight blinked, and his robes were gone. The moment they disappeared,
Saint was curling up half on top of him. He felt so warm and soft everywhere.
Oh. He was naked.
“Mm.” Knight felt some energy returning to his limbs, letting him lift a hand
so he could stroke Saint’s bare back, the curve of his hip.
“I don’t know if this is going to work, but ...”
He made a confused noise when one of Saint’s fingers pushed into his mouth,
pressing hard against the sharp point of one of his fangs.
The taste of blood bloomed on his tongue. Saint’s blood.
Knight took what felt like his first real inhale since he’d been forcefully sent
back to Hell. He grabbed Saint’s wrist, keeping his hand there, sucking
forcefully from the wound, groaning deep in his throat.
“Oh my God,” Saint moaned, his body arching needily against Knight’s, his
dick slowly filling against Knight’s hip.
The scent of his arousal thickening in the air had Knight almost gasping, the
blood and his lover’s emotions rapidly filling all his limbs with energy until he
was spinning them around so he was on top.
He let Saint’s hand drop from his mouth, hooked one of Saint’s thick legs
around his waist and rocked their hips together.
“Knight,” Saint cried, jerking up against him.
Their mouths met in an almost violent clash of lips and teeth, tongues
tangling, breaths mingling. Performing a small spell still had Knight’s head
aching at the effort, but it was so fucking worth it to hear the sinful sound Saint
made as the space between their bodies became slicker, the glide of their dicks
sinful.
Saint pulled back from the kiss when he needed to breathe, his nails digging
into Knight’s shoulders as he sobbed, “Yes, yes, yes—” arching his hips and
making the space between their bodies even slicker as he came.
Knight lightly sank his teeth into Saint’s shoulder, his orgasm following right
on the heels of Saint’s, his entire body shaking.
 “You bastard,” Saint said when they’d barely caught their breaths. “How
fucking dare you? Don’t scare me like that again.”
Knight laughed softly, still winded from both the weakness of earlier and his
orgasm. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. Just don’t fucking die. Can demons die?”
“Yes, Saint. We’re immortal in the sense that we don’t get sick, we stop ageing
at some point, and we don’t die natural deaths, but like any other creature, we
can be killed.”
“Bastard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising. Fuck.” He was shaking.
Knight waved a hand, disappearing the mess between their bodies. Then he
pulled Saint close, hugging him tight, wrapping his wings around him. “I’m
sorry.”
“Fuck,” Saint said again.
Knight held him until he stopped shaking, his heart so swollen underneath
his ribs he was afraid said ribs would crack.
“What happened?” Saint pulled back to ask. “Our ... the link ...”
“Right.” Knight took a deep breath. “So, I felt someone trigger the wards I’d
set on the house—”
“The what you did what now?”
“I’d set wards on the house,” Knight confessed sheepishly. “I didn’t tell you
because I didn’t want you to worry. I just didn’t want a situation like what had
happened with Knight the Dog to happen again.”
Saint was quiet for a moment. Then the corners of his lips ticked up. “You
called him Knight the Dog.”
Knight rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I felt someone trip the wards. I came to
check and found your mother here.” Saint hissed in a sharp breath. “She was
holding something. A doll made of straw. Whatever it was, it must’ve been some
kind of jack; it sent me right back to Hell and blocked my ability to traverse the
Veil.”
“Fuck,” Saint cursed. “Fuck! I knew she hadn’t come here last night just to
“warn” me,” he spat. “They must’ve sent her on purpose to scout, knowing I
wouldn’t hurt her. But how could they have suspected about you?”
“Ah.”
Saint narrowed his eyes. “Knight.”
“Okay, so, there may have been someone who’d triggered the wards before she
had. I scared them off and didn’t erase our encounter from their memories on
purpose. I thought it’d be enough to make them stop,” he said guiltily. Instead, it
had made them suspicious.
Saint squeezed his arm to show him there was no harm done. Knight exhaled
shakily with relief.
“There’s no way we could have known. Pastor Zeke has someone magical on
his side, it seems. I don’t think it’s a demon; possibly a Native Doctor—a witch.
He most likely didn’t think he had anything to be afraid of.” Saint’s jaw
clenched. He looked up. “If he was able to make a spell like that—how did you
manage to come back?”
Knight shrugged. He ducked his head to place a kiss on Saint’s bare, round
shoulder, hiding his expression in the process. “I heard you,” he whispered. “For
a moment, our link connected, and I heard you. And nothing mattered more
than getting to you immediately.”
Saint’s pointer finger and thumb came underneath his chin, tilting his face
up. He kissed Knight lightly on his lips.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t.”
He smiled. Then his smile disappeared. He looked apprehensive, suddenly, as
he whispered, “The bond ... the contracts ...”
“Still there,” Knight confirmed, watching him carefully.
Saint rolled over until he was lying on his back so he could stare at the ceiling.
Knight shifted closer to his side, his left hand resting on Saint’s bicep. He
couldn’t place his scent. His expression was completely devoid of emotion.
“He’s not going to stop,” Saint said quietly.
Knight shook his head. Maybe Knight’s attack at the church would make him
pause; maybe he’d leave Saint alone for another month or two, heck, even
another three years, but ... “No, he’s not.” His grip on Saint’s arm tightened.
 “I think—” Knight’s heart pounded at the finality in Saint’s tone. “—that
you should do what you need to do.”
Saint sat up when Knight didn’t immediately respond. Knight sat up as well.
Saint turned to look at him. He was deadly serious. His scent, his heartbeat, his
breathing—every inch of him was steady.
“This is me giving you permission to do what you have to do to make him
stop,” he repeated.
“You understand what that means, yes?”
“Yes,” he said unwaveringly. “I’ve had to solely focus on myself after I ran
away because there was fuck all I could do to stop him—to stop any of them.
But now—I have you.”
“You have me,” Knight confirmed, squeezing his arm again.
“I could’ve taken it all—for the rest of my life if I had to—as long as I had
you.” Knight trembled. Almighty. It felt like his heart was caught in a clenched
fist. “But being back there made me realise I can’t let him keep hurting anyone
else. There’s no true justice to be had when it comes to powerful men like him in
this country. And it doesn’t make me as bad as him, wanting him to pay.”
“You’re nothing like him,” Knight said vehemently. He slid his hand down,
tangling their fingers, squeezing Saint’s hand tight. “Sometimes, the only way to
get a tyrant like that to stop is to make them.”
Saint began blinking rapidly again. Knight could almost taste the salt of his
tears. It made him want to pull Saint closer, but he resisted, feeling Saint needed
his space right now.
“I just ... I need you to do one thing when you go back. I know this bit isn’t
my responsibility, and that some of his “followers” haven’t been manipulated by
him and are there because they’re just as despicable, but I at least want the true
victims like me to be ... all right.”
“Whatever you need,” Knight said, squeezing his bicep again. “What’s your
request?”
Knight stood at the altar to the church, taking in the aftermath of his attack.
What seemed like the entirety of the village had gathered here. Some of them
were crying, sitting in the pews. Most of them looked stoic. The bodies still lay
around them; some of them were literally sitting in spilled blood.
The pastor was giving a sermon, walking up and down the nave. Knight
sneered.
“Take it in,” he was saying, his head held high, a Bible clutched in his hand.
“This is the evidence of our village’s decay, of our sin. This is our divine
punishment for letting our very own children go astray.”
Apart from the few whose sobbing increased, the congregation didn’t
otherwise react.
“Bring her,” the pastor said.
Knight turned toward one of the side entrances between the altar and the
front pews, where the pastor had pointed.
Where two men were leading Saint’s mother in, her wrists wrapped tightly in
ropes. Knight stiffened.
Saint’s mother had been crying, her eyes red and swollen, but they were dry
now, her chin held up high. No doubt she thought whatever Pastor Zeke was
about to do to her was her just dessert.
No more.
Knight stepped off the altar and began to make his way down the nave.
He didn’t know how, but the pastor spotted him a moment before he pressed
the tips of his claws to his throat.
One hand flew to his chest, searching for something underneath his robes,
the other hand going for his pockets, his eyes wide with alarm. “You—”
Knight violently slashed his hand sideways, sending blood spraying. For a
moment, there was shocked silence, the congregation staring like this wasn’t
happening.
 Then, teleporting back to the altar, Knight let himself appear.
The screaming began. Some of the folks began to flee, hightailing it out of the
church like the hounds of Hell were at their heels. Some fainted. Some dropped
to their knees in the pews, wailing and praying frantically.
Just like Saint had requested, Knight was in what he’d like to refer to as his
“angel” form. His skin, hair, and eyes were in shades of brown, but his robes and
wings were white. His horns and tail were hidden.
“As you can see,” Knight said, making sure his voice was heard not just in the
church, but all through the village, “there is no God here. Beware of false
prophets,” he quoted, making the unnatural white of his wings and robes glow,
“which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves.”
The more lucid members—the ones Knight hoped were victims, just like
Saint—were turning their heads toward their dead leader with realisation.
That last quote had been the only thing Saint could think of to give the true
victims some piece of mind. A little nudge to help them heal and move on. And
for the others who had planned on following in this man’s footsteps, perhaps
this would make them rethink their choices. Hopefully, it would be enough.
Clutching his chest, holding his breath, Knight disappeared.

Back in Saint’s abode, Knight dropped to his knees.

“Knight!” Saint gasped, flying off the bed and rushing to his side.
The bonds in his chest were gone. The contracts were gone. Immediately, he
felt all his energy sapping.
“What is it? What’s happening?”
“Contracts,” Knight forced out. He reached out and grabbed Saint’s hand. It
was now or never. His heart thundered. “Saint. I-I can’t offer you anything. I’m
not—”
Saint sobbed out a laugh, pulling his hand from Knight’s so he could cup his
face in his hands, press their foreheads together. “I want you. Just you.” Knight
was flying. He was soaring. He wanted Saint to say those words again and again.
Saint pulled back again, eyes hard and desperate. “I want to make a deal.”
Struggling to take in air, it took two tries for Knight to make the circle using
his rapidly draining hold on the aether. He could feel himself flickering between
the Veil, between Hell and the mortal realm. Saint’s hold on him never wavered.
“Tell me.”
“I want you to stay with me,” Saint said, staring directly into his eyes, “until
you get tired of me.”
“So, the rest of your life?” Knight teased, but he couldn’t help but duck his
head, instinctively hiding how serious he was.
Saint tilted his face back up. He looked just as scared as Knight did. His eyes
seemed to echo Knight’s own fears; Is it too soon? What if he does get tired? What
if we break apart? Then one of us might be stuck to the other forever; who would
want that?
But overpowering all that fear and doubt was the blinding, desperate
yearning.
“Yes,” Saint said with a deliberately careless shrug, “if that’s what it takes.”
Then he bared his neck. Knight didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward and sank
his fangs into Saint’s throat. Saint cried out, his hands flying to Knight’s head,
gripping his locs tight.
“Igris,” he said, breathing hard, “Entis, untis, represe.”
The bond lit up between them like a fire.
Knight pulled back from Saint’s throat, sealed the bite shut, then licked the
blood off his lips.
Their lips met, harsh, frantic, their teeth clacking together.
Saint yelped when Knight’s wings beat, lifting them off the floor. He flew
them over to the bed then unceremoniously let them fall onto it, their lips still
connected.
Knight kissed him until he was senseless, breathless. He pulled back, red eyes
flashing, and their clothes were gone.
Saint gasped as Knight abruptly flipped him onto his stomach. He cupped
Saint’s hips, lifting them until his ass was high in the air. Knight took a moment
to admire him, all that brown skin and soft flesh, his for the taking.
 “Knight.” Saint wiggled his hips impatiently.
Knight laughed. Hi, bunny.
His lover jolted. Hi. Hello. Oh God, angel. I missed the sound of your voice in
my head. Is that weird?
Not weird at all, Knight sent back.
He stroked his hands firmly over the plump curve of Saint’s ass cheeks, then
spread them wide. Before Saint could take a breath, he’d dipped his head and
licked a wet stripe against the split.
“Oh, oh fuck,” Saint groaned, his hole clenching greedily against the caress of
Knight’s tongue. “Knight.”
Knight held his hips firmly to keep him from moving, then lashed his tongue
at that greedy little hole, getting it sloppy wet. Saint was whimpering, clutching
the sheets, thick thighs shaking. Knight pressed the tip of his tongue against his
entrance, then slid it in to the hilt, until his lips were pressed against slick, warm
skin.
“Knight!” Saint cried out, rocking back against his mouth. “Oh please, please.
I want you so much—”
Fuck. Knight got rid of his claws and slid one finger inside. He pumped it
quickly, his unnaturally slick saliva helping to ease the way.
“Yes,” Saint panted. “Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes—”
He whined through the thrust of a second finger, reaching back to push at
Knight’s head when he was getting ready to add a third.
“Now,” he rasped. “I want to feel you—want to feel it for days every time I
move—”
Knight’s brain short circuited. He leaned up and shuffled forward frantically,
gripping his dick, which was hot and throbbing, aching needily in his fist.
He pressed against Saint’s greedy little hole, angling his hips so he’d hit that
sweet spot inside on every thrust. His eyes flashed as he used a little bit of magic
to ease the way as he sank in to the hilt. He wanted Saint to feel it, but he didn’t
want Saint hurt.
“Fuck!” Saint cried out, clamping sinfully around him, so tight Knight saw
stars. “Yes.”
Right there?
 Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes echoed through the bond between them as Knight roughly
began to pump his hips. So good, oh God, please, please—
Not hard enough? Knight sped up, going harder, faster, until the bed began to
rock with his motions. The obscene sound of their bodies slapping nearly
drowned out the sound of Saint’s cries of pleasure. That good enough? Am I
hitting it right, little rabbit?
Daskjdlkjf
Knight husked out a laugh. He adjusted his position, one hand on Saint’s
upper back gently pushing until he was lying flat on the bed, head twisted to the
side on the pillows. He straddled Saint’s hips, holding onto his shoulders for
balance, then roughly began to pound him into the mattress.
Saint was practically drooling, a muffled cry escaping his lips with every
thrust. He looked gorgeous like this, brown skin flushed with heat and sweat,
spread out underneath Knight, his fleshy ass cheeks dancing with each slap of
Knight’s hips.
The constant strokes against his prostate and the pressure of the mattress on
his sensitive, leaking dick seemed to be enough. Saint came with an almost
anguished sounding cry, seizing up in Knight’s arms, clutching at the pillows for
what looked like dear life.
The scent and sight of it was enough to tilt Knight over the edge, too. He
didn’t stop thrusting as he came, gasping raggedly, shaking as he filled Saint up
until it squelched, wet and messy between them.
They collapsed in a sweaty heap, panting hard.
Stay, Saint sent before Knight could ask. Knight sighed, gently kissing
between his glistening shoulder blades.
It took several moments before they caught their breaths. Saint made a
pleased little noise as Knight slipped out of him. He made another noise when
Knight lifted his hips and buried his face between his cheeks, lapping at his used
hole.
He gripped the pillows, whimpering, rocking weakly back into Knight’s
mouth as Knight licked up every drop of his release. Neither of them got hard
again, all fucked out, but the scent of pleasure was still thick in the room, both
of them enjoying the act of Knight cleaning him up with his mouth.
 Knight gently dropped his hips when he was done, feeling Saint’s deep sigh in
his own chest. He moved to his side, and Saint shifted, shuffling into his arms,
hand sliding up into his hair to pull him down for a kiss.
“So … this means you’re my boyfriend, yeah?” Saint whispered shyly, his hand
cupping Knight’s face, thumb gently stroking his cheek.
“I should fucking hope so,” Knight teased.
Saint grinned and kissed him again. Knight rolled them over, his wings
spreading wide, blanketing the bed. Saint laughed into his mouth as Knight
pressed him against the mattress, losing himself completely to the meeting of
their lips.
The scent of his happiness—of their happiness—mingling in the air, was like
paradise.
“Where’s our dog, by the way?” Knight asked when they pulled apart for air.
“Sharing custody of the dog, already?”
Knight laughed.
“I went to check on him after you left to ... complete the mission, and he was
gone. Guess he got tired of waiting for me to open the door. I’ll have to make it
up to him tomorrow.”
“We’ll have to make it up to him.”
Saint grinned again. He looked up, meeting Knight’s eyes. “You can help
other people, right?” he whispered seriously. “Make other contracts? I just—I
don’t want you to feel indebted or obliged to me. Or trapped.”
Knight had to kiss him again. “I won’t,” he whispered. “But yes, if it’ll make
you feel better, I can make other contracts.”
“Okay. Good. And you still have your community in Hell.”
Knight paused. “Ah.”
Saint blinked. “Knight.”
Knight tried not to laugh at the suspicious tone. “Remember how I told you
the nicquiris were the exact opposite of a sect? And I was afraid that if I asked for
something else, I’d lose them? Well, I was proven right. I got caught coming
from the mortal realm, and the unofficial leader banished me.”
“Oh, fuck, Knight. I’m so sorry.” He pressed a tender kiss to Knight’s collar
bone. Knight felt the soft press of those lips like a brand on his soul. “Does that
mean you can’t go back to Hell at all?”
“Not at all.” He snorted. “Ammon doesn’t have that kind of power, though
I’m sure he wishes. I can go back any time. I’m just not a part of his community
any longer.”
“Fucking asshole.” Saint huffed, throwing his thigh over Knight’s hips.
Knight cupped the swell of his ass, pulling him closer. “Well, then,” he said,
placing another gentle kiss on Knight’s jaw. Knight felt that one burn through
him, too. “You’ll just have to make a new community here on earth, won’t you?”
His heart felt so fucking full. “I guess I will.”

OceanofPDF.com
 EPILOGUE
A Few Days Later

“This can’t be it,” Saint said, eyes wide.

“What does the map say?” Knight asked, fond and amused.
“There’s no way.” Saint glanced down at his phone, then up at the building in
front of him, then down at his phone again. “There’s no way,” he said again.
“That’s a castle, Knight. That’s a literal castle.”
“I take it castles aren’t a common sight in Arehjia?”
“In Nigeria, more like. Unless it’s, like, a travel destination.”
There was a sign at the base of the castle’s wide steps, pointing them toward a
pathway on the side of the main building. Knight could hear slightly muffled
chatter. Apart from the rich vegetation, he could also catch the scent of food in
the air.
Meeting in the garden; just follow the path, the sign said.
“Are you nervous?” Saint asked, probably noticing the way Knight’s wings
had tensed.
“What if none of them know how to help me find her?” he forced himself to
ask, even though he hated to voice his fears. It felt like by doing so, he was going
to somehow make them come true.
Saint reached out to tangle their fingers. “Then we’ll look for another way,”
he said simply. “No matter what happens, you know I’ve got you, right?”
 Knight smiled, his heart achingly tender. He squeezed Saint’s hand in lieu of
saying the words that had filled his throat. This thing between them was still so
new; he wasn’t going to risk scaring Saint off with his larger-than-human
emotions.
For the past few days, it felt like he’d been living in a dream. He and Saint had
been living in what Teresa—after Saint had announced he and Knight were
official—had playfully called “the honeymoon phase”, most of their time spent
with either fucking, cuddling, or with Saint showing Knight all the things
human couples did when they were falling in love.
His lover had confessed that he didn’t really go out and hadn’t properly
explored the sights since he’d moved to Arehjia, so trying out all the fancy
restaurants, watching movies in an actual cinema, eating by the lake, going to
nightclubs to dance—each activity usually with them partially glamoured so the
humans didn’t look twice in their direction—had all been new experiences for
both of them.
Knight hadn’t thought he could fall any deeper, but it seemed the depths of
his feelings for Saint were endless.
As they made their way down the designated pathway, approaching a few tall
hedges and what might be a back garden, Saint’s scent grew sharp with
nervousness.
“Who’s nervous, now?” Knight teased.
Are you sure I should come with you? I know when you texted, they said you can
bring your human partners or friends, but—
Exactly, Knight interrupted, squeezing his hand. Either I’m going with you, or
I’m not going at all.
Sap. Saint’s scent bloomed with happiness and another emotion Knight was
afraid to name. It smelled like warmth, like home.
He squeezed Saint’s hand hard as they turned left, then right again when
another sign prompted them. This pathway opened up into a little conservatory,
which seemed to be the location of the party. The roofed space was surrounded
by hedges on all sides with more pathways leading deeper into the garden. It had
a small, stone fountain in the middle, with curved benches along the hedges on
either side. Bright flowers bloomed in the greenery.
 There were a handful of people and demons spread out in the space; probably
about ten or so people, both demon and human alike. For a moment, Knight
and Saint just stood and stared.
A woman at the drinks table to their direct right noticed them and
immediately came over.
She was tall, as tall as Saint and just as fat, with warm, dark brown skin, her
afro cropped short. She was wearing a hot pink top that was tied underneath her
breasts, and ripped, high-waisted baby blue jeans.
“Hello,” she said with a kind smile. “You must be Knight.”
“Yes.” Knight nodded. He squeezed Saint’s hand. “This is my partner, Saint.”
“Hello.” Saint waved nervously.
“Nice to meet you both and welcome. I’m Joy. Klaus must be around here
somewhere.” She glanced around. Klaus had been the demon Knight had been
conversing with the past few days; it had been their phone number on the
website. They’d been the one to tell Knight he could bring his human
connections if he wanted, as long as they were aware of the existence of demons
and would understand this meeting was for the benefit of the demons, not them.
“This whole thing was their idea, and usually they’d be the one to welcome the
new guests, but I guess they slipped out for a moment. Please don’t feel nervous;
we’ve only been doing this for a few weeks now, so it still feels a little bit new to
all of us. I promise we don’t bite.” She winked. She looked around again. “Let
me introduce you to my—ah, here he comes.”
Another demon approached. Knight stiffened.
He didn’t know how he knew, but his feeling was only confirmed when the
other demon met his gaze and stopped moving, too, their eyes wide with a
similar disbelief.

Saint glanced desperately at Joy. The moment Knight had spotted who Saint
assumed was Joy’s demon partner—which, how the fuck was this his life,
meeting other people with demon partners—he’d frozen. And Joy’s partner had
frozen, too.
“What’s happening?” Saint asked. Knight?
“I don’t know,” Joy said, glancing between the two demons, her eyebrows
raised questioningly. Then her expression cleared, and her eyes seemed to widen
with realisation. “Wait, Malachi, is this—?”
“Yes,” the demon called Malachi said, sounding weirdly choked up.
Knight? Saint prompted again.
I think—this is my—
“Brother?” Malachi said tentatively, like he was finishing Knight’s thoughts.
“Yes,” Knight said, sounding just as gruff as he did.
Brother? Saint’s eyes nearly bugged out. I didn’t know you had siblings!
Sibling, Knight replied. Just one.
He and Malachi reached out at the same time, grasping each other’s arms,
pressing their foreheads together. Before they closed their eyes, Saint saw them
shining with mirroring emotion.
“Come on,” Joy leaned over to Saint to whisper. “Let’s give them some
space.”
They moved away, closer to the refreshments table. Knight and Malachi were
still gripping each other’s arms, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together.
Despite himself, Saint’s throat felt thick with emotion for his lover. He had so
many questions. What had happened? How had they been separated? Had it
been from birth, before Knight had become a slave for his sect?
“Chapman?” Joy offered.
Saint tore his eyes away, offering her a smile. “Yes, please. Thank you. Did you
know Malachi had a sibling?”
“Yes,” Joy said. When her eyes landed on the demon, they were incredibly
soft, her lips curved into a private smile. Saint’s heart thumped. He wondered if
that was how he looked when he was looking at Knight. “They’d been separated
at birth, apparently. Malachi has always wondered where they were. Who knew
they’d end up in fucking Arehjia?” she said with a short laugh. She held her
drink up in a mock toast. “Small world, eh?”
 Knight and Malachi had stopped pressing their foreheads together. Instead,
arms still clasped, they were now talking in low tones, Knight more excited,
Malachi more reserved.
Saint smiled. When he took a sip from his drink, it was refreshingly cool and
sweet. Small world indeed.

“So,” Saint said a few hours later. Their hands were tangled, and they were
walking through the forest to the main road. They’d had to walk a bit to get past
Malachi’s wards—turned out Knight’s brother was the owner of the castle and
lived there with Joy—and Knight could have teleported them home, but they
both wanted to stroll. Walk off all the food and drink and laughter.
He was full, both in his belly and in his heart. For the first time in his life,
could see his future with almost perfect clarity; him and Saint coming here to
hang out with the other demons and their human friends and partners—
throwing parties, having a picnic or simply welcoming any newcomers. Building
a real community, with no conditions at all, his lover by his side. He wanted it so
badly it almost felt impossible that he might actually get to have it.
His phone now had ten more contacts in it apart from Saint and Teresa. He’d
felt a strange swell of belonging at the sight of all those names, especially that of
his brother, even though they’d only just met.
He’d never let himself think about his sibling, about that all-consuming love
he’d felt when he’d first been brought to life, afraid he’d spend an eternity
endlessly chasing that warmth only to never find it.
But he’d gotten all that and more. He hadn’t asked the demons about how he
could find Pink, not wanting his tentative new friends to think he was just here
to use them, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t think that at all. When the time
came, he knew they would do all they could to help.
The sun was setting, the hues of purples, oranges, and pinks making Saint
look slightly ethereal. Or perhaps that was just Knight’s happiness talking.
 “What do you think? Beats your “community” in Hell by a mile, am I right?”
Saint asked with a grin.
Knight had to feel that smile against his mouth.
“Yes,” he whispered after the kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “It was
pretty much perfect.”

One Year Later

“Knight!” Saint laughed when the demon swept him off his feet into a bridal
carry at the front door. “I haven’t even gotten the keys out.”
“Get them out, then,” Knight teased, nuzzling his jaw.
Saint couldn’t help the slight tremble in his hand as he pulled them out of his
pocket and inserted the front door key into the keyhole. He held his breath as he
twisted, his heart skipping at the sound of the mechanism unlocking, then
pushed the door open.
Knight sensed his hesitation, how big of a deal this was to him, because he
murmured, “Ready?”
Saint pulled the key out, his hand still trembling. “Ready.”
They stepped over the threshold. Saint had known he’d feel this choked up
when he finally moved into a space of his own that felt permanent, where the
rest of his life might truly begin—no stalkers, no fears, no hesitations.
What he couldn’t have predicted was how he’d get here. How much he’d have
changed, and who had helped him on that journey.
Knight took his chin in his thumb and forefinger at the same time that Saint
reached up, and their mouths met.
Saint laughed, though he wasn’t sure why. Knight let him slide down to his
feet, kicked the door shut behind them and then pushed him against it, kissing
him until he was breathless.
 “Welcome home,” he whispered as they pulled apart for air.
Saint was used to his heart doing mad things when Knight said romantic shit
like that. “I love you.”
Knight’s red eyes flared, like his heart was doing the same thing Saint’s was. “I
love you, too. So much.”
He kissed Saint again, hard and brief, then took a step back.
“Be back in a moment, bunny.”
“Take your time.”
Absolutely not.
Saint laughed. Knight disappeared. Saint fell against the door, giddy and still
in disbelief that this was his life.
Knight reappeared on his next blink, all Saint’s things, and their dog, in tow.
The landlord had said no pets allowed, but Knight had used his magic so none
of the neighbours—or the landlord himself, should he stop by—would look
twice at Knight the Dog and think something was off about his presence.
Knight the Dog barked in greeting, coming over to scent Saint’s hands, before
bounding back into the apartment to explore. There were only three open
rooms—the bedroom, the sitting room, and the kitchen; there was a guest toilet
by the sitting room and an ensuite in his bedroom—so Saint left him to his
devices.
Knight waved a hand and all the boxes meant for the bedroom followed them
in. Saint didn’t have a lot of stuff, so it took nothing at all to get unpacked.
The apartment hadn’t come furnished, and Saint felt only a little bit guilty
when Knight popped their chosen furnishings into existence with his magic.
They’d spent hours poring over interior designs on his laptop until Knight
practically had their selections memorised.
They dressed the bed, then went to the rest of the house to finish with the
interior decorations. The moment they set Knight the Dog’s bed in one corner
of the sitting room, along with his toys, he rushed over and promptly lay down,
grabbing one of the squeaky toys in his mouth. They’d walked him earlier, so he
was all tuckered out.
Saint’s eyes stung a bit as he stood in the furnished living room. It already felt
warm, lived in. Knight pulled him into his arms.
 “Food? Then Pride & Prejudice?”
“Again?” Saint raised a teasing eyebrow.
“Yes,” Knight deadpanned.
Saint laughed and kissed him, his smile and expression open and tender.
“Sounds perfect.”

When Saint opened his eyes later that night, he found himself standing in the
middle of a clearing in a familiar forest.
His lips quirked, and his heart began to pound. A little over a year and a half
ago now, when Knight had first appeared to him, the act of dreaming, especially
of this place, had been an entirely involuntary action.
But Saint had learned how to “travel” to this particular dreamscape on
purpose. He loved playing this game with Knight out in the real world, in that
forest where Saint had first finally let go of his fears and surrendered to his
desires, but there was something about this forest in the dreamscape that felt
special; just for the two of them. Saint had chosen it for that reason.
His intent formed the summoning circle underneath his feet, before he took a
step out of it, disappearing into the trees. He waited, but it didn’t take long after
that for his demon to appear, his knight in shining armour.
Or his knight in billowing black robes? Grinning wildly, Saint spun around
and began to run.
He didn’t need to look to know Knight was grinning, too, waiting for him to
put some distance between them before he’d start his chase.
Exhilaration burned through his blood, and only a little bit of fear. He heard
it when Knight finally began to stalk him through the trees; it made his heart
pound harder, his feet move faster.
The terrain shifted, as it usually did in these dreams, aiding Saint in his run.
“Run, rabbit, run, rabbit—”
 The voice sounded right by his ear, making him almost jump out of his skin.
He let out a jubilant laugh, running even faster.
When Knight eventually caught him, arms wrapping around his waist from
behind and lifting him into the air, Saint squealed.
Knight didn’t seem to mind that Saint wasn’t really playing the game as they
usually did. In fact—
I love you, he was saying through the bond. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Saint spun around, kissing him greedily. The terrain shifted once more until
they were back in the clearing, an inviting carpet of grass all around them.
Knight laid them down on the soft moss just as their clothes disappeared.
I love you, Saint sent back while kissing him so deeply it was as though he
wanted to find a home in Knight’s mouth.
They began to move their hips, moaning into their kisses, bodies rocking
sinuously in the grass until they were both stiffening and crying out into each
other’s mouths.
The orgasm was enough to wake them up in the real world, in each other’s
arms in their brand-new bed. Saint was hard, his erection throbbing and
insistent, but it was easy to ignore it in the face of his excitement. He pressed his
face into Knight’s chest, giggling. Knight pressed little kisses all over his face,
which made him laugh harder.
“What’s got you feeling so bubbly?” Knight said, helplessly grinning, like
Saint’s happiness was his own. Saint could feel Knight’s own arousal against his
hip.
“Can’t you feel it?” Saint whispered.
Knight frowned. “Feel what?”
“Close your eyes.” Saint’s heart pounded. Pink had snuck over earlier to draw
the circle while Saint had been at work and Knight had been out with Malachi
and their other demon friends. She’d set a spell on it to trigger to life at Saint’s
prompting.
Knight’s eyes flew open. He was breathing hard. “What—”
Saint sat up, kneeling in the middle of the bed. Knight followed. His eyes
were so wide, so full of fearful hope. Saint loved him so much it felt like his heart
expanded every day, creating room for just a little more.
This isn’t happening, Knight was thinking. It couldn’t possibly be.
And yet, and yet—
“I want to make a deal,” Saint whispered, grabbing both his hands, squeezing
them tight.
There was a lump the size of Knight the Dog in his throat.
“I want you to stay with me,” Saint whispered, “until you get tired of me.”
For a moment, Knight struggled to speak. He and Saint still had the contract
he’d made a year ago, the bond like a friend in his chest. Despite Saint’s urging
for Knight to make other contracts, Knight hadn’t wanted to. If Saint thought
he’d get tired and want an out, then he had another think coming.
Knight’s mouth was wet, his heart stuttering like it was malfunctioning.
This isn’t happening.
“So, the rest of your life?” he teased gruffly, not looking away from that dark,
penetrating gaze.
There was no fear, this time. Just disbelief ricocheting between them, like
they never could have imagined they’d get to this point.
“Yes,” Saint said. His lips quirked. “If that’s what it takes.”
Knight’s gaze instinctively went to his shoulder, remembering Saint had
bared his throat the last time, sacrificing a bit of his blood to create the contract.
He jolted when Saint kissed his knuckles, one after the other. “I offer you my
soul,” he whispered, “in exchange for nothing at all.”
“Saint.” Knight’s voice came out an unintentional growl. He kept swallowing
the saliva pooling in his mouth. His blood burned so hot he was sure it had been
replaced with lava.
His tail was flicking in the air, and his wings were poofed up, arched high and
wide, like a bird trying to impress its mate. “Are you sure?”
I love you.
 “Yes,” Knight responded to that. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Please.” He took his right
hand from Saint’s grip so he could quickly wave it through the air. A piece of
paper appeared, the edges sparking with embers that slowly cooled off, leaving it
singed. He pressed the paper into Saint’s hands, feeling like he was jumping off a
cliff without his wings to break his fall. “My True Name.”
Saint clenched his fist gently around the paper, pressing it to his heart. He
leaned forward, and they kissed, deep and passionate.
“Igris,” Saint said into his mouth. Faintly, Knight only then noticed Saint’s
heart was pounding just as erratically as his. “Entis, untis, represe.”
The bond lit up with such intensity they both jolted, their hands flying to
their chests.
“Can you—” Saint was panting. He held his fist out, the one gently cradling
Knight’s Name. “I want it on me. Like a tattoo.” He tapped his heart. “But
meant only for you and me.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck—
Knight did as Saint wished, and for a moment he just had to stare; his True
Name, dark like a brand across his lover’s heart. Then he had to kiss him. They
fell back onto the bed, clutching wildly at each other.
They were already naked—the way they slept most nights—so all Knight had
to do was push Saint flat on his back and straddle his hips. A flash of his eyes and
his intent, and he was wet, stretched and ready.
“Knight,” Saint cried out as he sank down onto him.
He grabbed Saint’s wrists in his hands, pressed them flat to the bed above his
head, then began to ride him, so deep and so slow, Saint was sobbing in barely
any time.
“I love you,” Knight whispered. He couldn’t stop staring at his name on
Saint’s chest, then up at Saint’s eyes, which were shiny and heavy-lidded.
“I love you,” Saint sobbed. “Please, I love you.”
Knight kissed him, ignoring his pleas through the bond for him to speed up,
to make him come.
When they finally did reach their peaks, they were both trembling and teary-
eyed, mouths slack with pleasure.
 They cuddled under the sheets after Knight had cleaned them up. Knight still
couldn’t stop staring at his name on Saint’s chest, tracing the lines with a finger.
He didn’t think he’d ever get to have this, not just with Saint, with anybody.
After what had happened with Pink, he couldn’t help it, he’d felt cautious.
But Pink had been so lucky Mrs. Efezino—or Jasmine, as they called her, now
—had helped her break free of the control of her captor, who’d apparently
worked in the same building as her. He’d suspected, the first time he’d met her,
that just like her daughter, Jasmine could see him, too, but he hadn’t been sure.
But she’d seen Pink. She could’ve ignored her like she’d ignored Knight, but
she’d saved her instead.
Small fucking world, as Joy would say.
Knight pressed a kiss to Saint’s forehead. The air between them was warm.
Goodnight, little rabbit.
Saint’s eyes had already fallen shut. When he replied, he was smiling, his voice
soft and sleepy even through the bond. Goodnight, angel.

OceanofPDF.com
 Acknowledgements

I don’t know what it is, but SWEET SURRENDER has been one of the
smoothest and most enjoyable writing experiences I’ve had in a long time. If you
knew me personally, you probably wouldn’t realise it because your girl is good at
suppressing Negative Emotions™, but I was very stressed most of last year due
to Personal Reasons™, so each book I wrote and published felt increasingly
harder than the last.
This year, though, I decided enough was enough. I took a step back. I scheduled
more breaks. I decided to tackle one project at a time even if it killed me (good
news, it didn’t kill me, even though my ADHD brain was very sure it would),
and I succeeded. The writing for this book went so easily I was afraid it was
almost too easy—which made the editing process a nightmare but hey, you win
some, you lose some.
So, first of all, I’d like to thank Past Viano for putting her foot down for the good
of her mental health and not risking burning out. Thank you Past Viano; I love
you. You’re so smart. You rock.
Thank you to my patrons and their endless, unwavering support. I can’t wait to
come back to updating there soon! I’ve missed you all so much.
Thank you to my family, my mother and my brothers, for always having my
back.
And thank you to you, dear reader, for taking the chance to buy and read
SWEET SURRENDER. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I
adored writing it.
Until next time!

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 Also by Viano Oniomoh

Looking for more paranormal erotic romance? In the mood for something
contemporary? Perhaps you’d prefer an enchanting fantasy?
For more books filled with swoony romance and BIPOC LGBTQ+ main
characters, check out Viano’s other books:
Check out Viano’s Books

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 About the Author

Viano Oniomoh is a passionate reader and writer, who was born and raised in
Nigeria. She spends fifty percent of her time writing, forty percent reading, and
the other ten listening to BTS. She may or may not use magic to get everything
else in her life done. She also has no idea how to write about herself in the third
person.
Stay in touch with Viano via her social media pages linked below, or
alternatively, you can contact her via her website at vianooniomoh.com
Viano Oniomoh on Twitter
Viano Oniomoh on Instagram
Buy Viano a Coffee

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