Atlas, Part 1 (A Four Horsemen Companion Duet)

Chapter 6

As soon as Atlas got far enough away, he stopped, leaning back against a nearby wall with a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes as images of Conquest and Raziel bombarded him. Haunted him. Fucking hell . He was equal parts angry, jealous, and throbbing in his pants. Even after coming, he was still unsatisfied. Raziel was so fucking beautiful, like putty in Conquest’s hands. Witnessing the familiarity and love they shared had been more than he could have imagined.

Fuck Conquest for letting him see that, knowing he could never have it. A deliberately cruel show of power and possession. He’d gotten his point across, just like he’d wanted.

Atlas palmed his cock, grimacing at the wet spot he’d left. He needed a fucking shower. A cold one. Maybe two.

For the first time since this had all begun, he wanted to go home to his small apartment. For just a fleeting moment, he wanted time to stop, wanted a second to breathe and be surrounded by his own things.

After he found a quiet shower and cleaned himself up, he spent the next few hours coordinating men, trying—and mostly failing—to get ahold of someone in charge in other countries, sending search parties out, and mostly using all of it to distract himself from the buzzing in his ears.

He couldn’t get the sounds out of his head. Raziel’s small cries, the way he screamed Conquest’s name as he came. Conquest’s voice getting rougher, more guttural, when he was turned on and when he was manhandling Raziel like a fucking god. It had already been the kind of voice that reached deep to stroke his insides until he was hard and wanting. How had it gotten better ? That was the real cruelty.

The two of them drew him in, making it hard for him to breathe, to think . That had never happened to him before. Most of his relationships had been surface level, more for the pleasure of it than anything with deeper feelings. Not even Matty had turned him inside out like this. They’d been a slow build from friendship into lovers, and it had been quiet, comforting. Conquest with Raziel was like pouring oil over a burning fire, and he was getting hot.

What the fuck were they doing to him? He wasn’t this person. He might act hastily and dive in without thought when there was no time for it, but he’d never been this reckless before. He’d never jumped without a parachute.

He wasn’t irrational, or thoughtless, and he’d never looked at someone who wasn’t his to look at. He had a lot of flaws and unfavorable traits, but he’d like to think his integrity was without question. When he looked at Raziel, any semblance of decency flew out the window. He wanted to touch, and taste, and bury himself in that hot flesh. Wanted to run his hands over those wings, lick them, and rub his dick all over them.

And Conquest? That sexy motherfucker pressed buttons in Atlas he hadn’t even known he’d had. That cocky, arrogant confidence unbalanced him. He’d never met someone so goddamn sure of themselves. Atlas had never been into bigger guys, simply because he refused to give that much power and vulnerability to another person. And “big” didn’t even begin to cover Conquest. His thighs were as big as Atlas’s fucking head.

It didn’t seem to matter, because Atlas wanted that beard rubbed all over him , wanted those gray eyes to turn to liquid silver as he wrecked him the way he had Raziel. Wanted to feel the burn and the power of his muscles.

His lack of control when it came to them pissed him off. He wasn’t an animal. He wasn’t ruled by his hormones, and he certainly didn’t let anyone jerk him around the way Conquest had been doing from the moment they’d met.

Conquest knew how Atlas felt, could see it every time the Horseman looked at him. So why wasn’t Atlas already dead? He’d be an idiot if he hadn’t worked out that Conquest had zero regard for human life.

Luckily, it seemed for the moment that they were avoiding him. He hadn’t seen them since he’d witnessed their fuck. Famine returned with his pet spider—Atlas shuddered—at some point, and Atlas caught glimpses of him as he moved about the base. Atlas had no fucking idea what Famine was doing. Even when he stayed in the map room, pouring over documents and commandeering multiple laptops, he wouldn’t explain.

Did Atlas want to know? Doubtful.

What was their goal, their purpose? If they really were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, that meant death for all of them. Atlas couldn’t turn their help away, he knew that. Without them, they would have already lost this battle. But he also knew that they were on borrowed time before both Conquest and his brother turned on them. Not to mention the other two he’d never met. He had to make plans for when that inevitably happened.

An hour later, Thomas forced him to head back to their barracks to rest. Atlas tried to refuse, but medics were the meanest people on the planet, and he was all but kicked out of the building.

On his way there he drove past the officer’s mess. It was still standing. Sort of. Half the ceiling had caved in, windows smashed out. With only the moonlight to guide him, it was hard to see the extent of the damage.

Atlas slowed the jeep down and parked next to it on a whim. The car door closing behind him was loud in the strangely quiet evening. What had once been a bustling military base was nothing but a mass graveyard, waiting for the living to follow the dead to their final resting places.

The quiet that had overtaken so much of the world, with so many of its people gone, was eerie. Horrifying. An unnatural stillness that made Atlas cold and want to wrap arms around himself to keep warm.

The door was locked, so Atlas made his way around the building and vaulted over the broken glass of a window. He wouldn’t break the door even if it would be easy to do physically. There was already so much of the world broken; he didn’t want to add another piece to it, not if he didn’t have to.

The lights still miraculously worked, and he flicked on the ones above the bar. They were dim, softer and less blinding than the main overhead ones. It was as somber and quiet as the rest of the place. He’d spent a lot of nights here, with other officers. Shooting the shit and winding down after long days. He’d never been in here alone.

Atlas righted chairs and stools as he moved through the room. As if by tidying the mess, he could somehow erase the damage that had been done. He couldn’t fix it. Just like he couldn’t save Matty. Couldn’t save so many others.

He was so fucking tired of losing people.

His eyes closed as he braced his arms wide on the bar, bowing his head. He screamed silently, mouth opening as he let the grief tumble out, a single tear dropping to the floor. It was an avalanche pouring out of him. A torrential rainstorm. Fire blazing across a forest. So much agony, there were moments he couldn’t bear it. The pressure bearing down on him, the eyes looking at him, thinking he could save them all.

He couldn’t.

“What are you doing, traveling alone?”

Atlas whirled around, heart leaping into his throat. “Fucking Christ , Con, make some noise,” he snapped, taking the pounding in his chest and his fear out on the easiest target. He swiped angrily at the track of a tear on his cheek. “What the hell do you want? Come here to fuck with me some more?”

Something almost like regret flickered in Conquest’s eyes. Couldn’t have been. He did a visual sweep of Atlas’s body that had Atlas’s pulse speeding up for an entirely different reason. “I didn’t touch you.”

“You think that’s the criteria?” he sneered. “I’m not in the mood for you or whatever this is.” What would he have to resort to, to make Conquest fuck off?

Atlas’s heart dropped to the floor as he saw the destruction behind Conquest. No. “You broke the door,” he said helplessly.

“Yes. It was locked.”

So matter of fact—no idea that he’d so casually gutted Atlas.

He sat heavily on a stool, heat prickling behind his eyes. It was just a door, for Christ’s sake. Why was he so upset? He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his eyes, in a desperate attempt to stem the tide. He couldn’t cry in front of this man. This giant hulk that had done nothing but scoff at their plight. Atlas could just imagine what he had to say about weakness, and no matter what it said about him, he couldn’t handle it right now and especially not from this beacon of strength.

“Why don’t you just give up?”

Atlas huffed out a laugh. Then he threw his head back and laughed even harder, a pitch of hysteria in the sound. He laughed until his stomach hurt and no sounds came out.

Why don’t you just give up?

Atlas let out one more huff of laughter, the last he had left in him, and then slid off his stool. “You are the biggest fucking asshole I have ever met, and I’ve met some real pricks.” Couldn’t avoid them in the military.

The ghost of a smile graced Conquest’s face, like he was more amused than offended by the statement. “Was that supposed to be a revelation?”

Something was in there that made someone like Raziel fall in love with him. Atlas couldn’t see it. Not beyond the surface handsome face. Would Matty have liked him? Probably. He’d never been good at seeing the bad in people, the lone antelope in the middle of a pride of lions. Atlas didn’t like him; there was nothing remotely likable about this Horseman. Love was blind, indeed.

“Do you want something, or are you just here to make a bad situation worse?” Atlas asked acidly. “If that’s the case, I suggest you get the fuck out before I make myself a real problem for you.” He hadn’t even started making Conquest’s life hard, and he had no qualms about upping his efforts.

Conquest didn’t respond straightaway. He moved with deliberate strides around the tables, his intelligent eyes taking in everything as he came closer. There was nothing written on his face that gave away what he was thinking. Atlas might have backed up and away from his overwhelming presence if he hadn’t already been pressed against the bar with nowhere to go.

“You’re doing everything that you can,” Conquest said eventually.

Some of the fight left Atlas even as he tried to hold tight to it. It slipped through his fingers, and all that was left was brain-numbing fatigue. “A compliment, from you?”

“An observation.”

Atlas rolled his eyes. “Right.” What had he been thinking? He could kill every last Demon that existed and save everyone, and Conquest would still have a list of all the things he’d done wrong and could do better, without a single nice thing to say amongst it.

“The destruction of the world is inevitable even if this hadn’t happened.”

“You’re a real fucking comfort, aren’t you?” He didn’t need to hear how they were doomed. Did Conquest think he didn’t know that already? It wasn’t going to stop him from fighting until he gave his last breath. He would never give up, not when he had the strength to make a difference. Not when he was still capable of fighting. He had to keep going. For himself. For Matty. For all the people that had been so senselessly slaughtered.

Maybe their chances of survival were hopeless, but Atlas had never been very good at accepting his fate.

“Is that what you’re looking for? Comfort?” Conquest might not have been sneering, but it was right there in his voice.

“Even if I was, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to go to someone like you for it.”

Conquest had him by the throat before he could react. He should have been prepared for it, considering how much Conquest liked to do it to him.

He didn’t bother struggling. What was the point? It was wasted energy, and he had a combat knife strapped to his thigh if Conquest took it further and actively tried to strangle him to death. Right now, he was just holding Atlas with the promise of a threat. Conquest’s entire existence was the promise of a threat.

“And who would you go to, Atlas?” Conquest asked, thumb digging painfully into the underside of Atlas’s chin. “Raziel? You think you have a right to turn to him?”

Atlas wasn’t stupid enough to answer that. Didn’t need to anyway. Conquest wasn’t asking because he wanted an answer.

“Would you ask for a touch, Atlas?” The way he said his name was more than a blatant threat, almost sharp enough to cut through Atlas’s skin. Atlas bristled at the sound of it. “A kiss?” Conquest leaned in close, lips brushing Atlas’s cheek, his beard rough and sending a shiver down Atlas’s spine. “What would it take to make you feel better? What would you ask for?”

“Fuck you.” Atlas bit back a groan when Conquest’s hand cupped his dick and squeezed. He was already half hard, and Atlas hated how easily Conquest got him riled up and hot for it. How much he wanted Conquest to strip him naked and do whatever he wanted. No wonder Raziel was so pliant for him.

“Or something else?” Conquest dragged his tongue down Atlas’s neck, and Atlas had no hope of containing the deep noise that pushed out of his lungs. Fuckkk.

“What would you do for a kiss, Atlas?” Conquest hauled Atlas up onto the bar, using the hold on his throat, and forced himself between Atlas’s knees. His hardness brushed against Atlas’s, and his entire world tilted, spots marring his vision as heat roared over him like he’d been thrown into the pits of Hell. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for it to imprint in his mind. Creating a memory that was going to haunt him, he just knew it.

He should have thrown it in Conquest’s face that he was just as hard for it as Atlas was, but all he could think about was how fucking good it felt, and why didn’t he press harder? Atlas needed more contact, not distance.

“Would you let me fuck you?” Conquest asked harshly, his voice sinking into Atlas’s very soul.

It took him a second too long to get his bearings and bite out, “No.”

Conquest breathed deep, nose skimming Atlas’s throat without making contact. The heat was enough to drive him wild, and if he moved just an inch, they would touch. “You’re lying,” Conquest whispered.

“Get away from me.” It sounded weak even to his own ears.

“I can smell how aroused you are, Atlas. I can see it in your aura. Do you know what color you are?”

Atlas faltered. Had he just said—? No, he couldn’t have. “My what?” he asked, seeking clarification.

“Everyone has a color, an aura that’s their essence.”

“Can everyone see them?”

The cocky grin was too much, making Conquest’s face that much more handsome, the shape of his lips curved like they were made for the arrogance that seeped out of him. “Just me.”

He should have expected that. “Convenient.” He bit his bottom lip. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “What color is mine?”

Atlas expected an argument or an outright refusal to tell him, to hang it over his head that he knew, and Atlas didn’t.

Instead, he easily said, “It’s orange. A soft orange, like the reflection of fire on water. Flickering heat. And when you’re turned on? That orange darkens, twisting and heavy, begging me for relief.”

“Bullshit.” Orange? And he would never beg.

His breath hitched when Conquest’s thumb brushed under his top, skin against skin for a heartbeat.

“After everything you’ve seen, and this is where you draw the line at unbelievable?”

“What color is yours?”

Conquest leaned back far enough to search Atlas’s face. Atlas kept deadly still, wondering what the fuck he was looking for. What did he see? Was he looking at his aura? Was it just on all the time?

Did he see the whole world in that kind of vibrancy all the time, with every single person he encountered? That sounded exhausting.

“I can’t see my own,” Conquest said. “Perhaps it doesn’t exist.”

“Why wouldn’t it? You exist, don’t you?”

Conquest finally stepped back, and Atlas could breathe properly again. He sucked in short, shallow breaths. Conquest was too big, stifling, taking up too much room and overwhelming Atlas’s senses.

“Why did you stop here?” Conquest asked.

“You’ve been watching me.” Wouldn’t come to him, or speak to him, but still watched him like some fucking stalker? Lovely. And while he was doing this, Atlas didn’t see an Angel anywhere. “Where’s Raziel?”

“Not your concern.”

“Is he safe?” Atlas pressed. Would Conquest leave Raziel somewhere he was vulnerable? They’d been left alone to fend for themselves against Demons before, when Atlas had to protect Raziel himself. Would he do it again? Atlas wouldn’t think so, after what had happened, but what did he know?

“His safety is not your concern,” Conquest growled, face twisting angrily.

Atlas slid off the bar and didn’t back down, head held high even as Conquest towered over him. He might be able to intimidate others with his size, but Atlas wasn’t them, and he wouldn’t back down. Especially not when it came to Raziel. “Where is he?”

“You think you have a right to that knowledge?”

“Whether you want to accept it or not, I care about him,” Atlas said. Not being allowed to touch him in the way that he wanted didn’t mean he suddenly didn’t care. “So yes, I have a right to it. You don’t get to decide that. You can’t control everything .”

“No?” Conquest tipped his head lower. “If I killed you right now, all my problems would disappear.”

“Should I be flattered I rank so high?” He hadn’t asked for any of this. He’d been living his life just fine without this shit. Maybe he hadn’t been totally fulfilled, and maybe it had felt like something was missing. But that hole wouldn’t be filled by mass murder, war with creatures not from this world, or a beautiful Angel and his deadly guardian.

Conquest snarled wordlessly and grasped Atlas’s nape, hair curling around his fingers. He used the hold to yank Atlas’s head back, holding it tight, pain skittering across his scalp. “You have no idea how lucky you are that you’re not dead.”

“It’s only the living who suffer; why should that be lucky?” Matty didn’t suffer where he was. He didn’t have to deal with seeing the world he loved burned to the ground so completely. Didn’t have to see everyone around him die needlessly in a war that could hardly even be called that. Not knowing if he would be next, or when. Dreaming about an Angel that was so far out of his reach he might as well be on another planet. Taunted by this god of a man that he wanted so badly he could feel it tightening his gut, his dick still hard while at the same time he wanted to punch him in the face and tell him to fuck off and play his games with someone else.

Conquest thumbed Atlas’s bottom lip, and he felt it all the way to his toes. “Don’t envy the dead, Atlas. Only the living can change their fate.”

Atlas didn’t have a response for that. What did it even mean? What did he know of the dead, other than how to create them?

“The dead have no control,” Conquest said as if seeing the question in his eyes. “They wander aimlessly. The ones that are unable to accept their fate are worse. Twisted abominations of what they once were.” He tipped Atlas’s head up further, forcing him to look. Those gray eyes were like rivers of silver, intense and mesmerizing. They were fucking beautiful. Gateway to the soul. What did Conquest’s soul look like? As molten as the rest of him? What kind of thoughts did he have? What Atlas wouldn’t give for just one glimpse.

“How do you know that?” Atlas asked, voice nothing but a whisper between them.

“Because I once guided the dead.”

Guided the dead? Why was it every time Conquest opened his mouth to explain something, Atlas only had more questions? “Now you add to their numbers?” Why the switch? Raziel was over a hundred years old. How old was Conquest? Had he not always been a Horseman of the Apocalypse? How much history was there?

At thirty-five years old, Atlas suddenly felt insignificant in the great scheme. He would perish one day, and Conquest and everyone else like him would continue on. A blip on their radar. A blink of an eye. No wonder they cared little for the lives of humans.

“Precisely.”

That smirk shouldn’t be sexy. It was deadly, and concerning, and signaled Atlas’s doom. Yet all he wanted to do was lift his head just enough to see if those lips were as soft as they looked. Would Conquest show him before he killed him, at least? He’d already made him suck his thumb—even the memory of it, despite the danger, was enough to raise his blood pressure—what was a kiss?

“I know what you want.” Conquest rested a hand against Atlas’s throat. “You’re as easy to read as Raziel.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then, since you’re so fucking sure of yourself?”

The pressure around his throat increased. “You’re afraid. I can smell it. I can see it.”

Did that have something to do with his “aura”? Atlas didn’t like that all his secrets were laid bare because Conquest could see something about him that he couldn’t see himself.

“You think I can’t admit when I’m afraid?” He had a man twice his size all but choking him. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to do it if he really wanted. Anyone who said they weren’t afraid in this situation was a liar. “You scare the fuck out of me.” For more than one reason. Some louder than others. He didn’t owe Conquest the specifics.

“Do I?” Conquest pressed his thumb to the hollow of Atlas’s throat. “And why is that?” He leaned in so close that his beard grazed Atlas’s jaw. Fuck , that was… How would that feel other places? How would it feel against his cheeks while he took a taste? Raziel had looked like Conquest’s kisses had drugged him. Was he that good?

“Because you think I’m going to kill you?” Conquest asked, voice low and seductive. Lips pressed to his ear. “Or because you’re hard right now, and you hope that I’ll touch you and show you just how good I can fuck you?”

Atlas swallowed around Conquest’s thumb. That… wouldn’t be quite how he would have worded it. But in a nutshell… all of the above.

“Not just me. You want him as well. And he doesn’t belong to you.”

Atlas couldn’t help but snarl. “He’s not an object.”

“Wrong,” Conquest said, lifting his head enough for Atlas to see the dark glint to his eyes. Dangerous and sexy. His arousal spiked, uncontrollable. “He’s my object. My love. My life. He gave his to protect mine.”

Atlas’s throat closed, an uncomfortable lump making it hard to swallow.

It was obvious to anyone how much Raziel meant to Conquest. How much the big guy loved him, cared for him. Maybe he had some archaic ideas about possession, but he treated Raziel with dignity, respect, and an indulgence that was kind of romantic if Atlas thought too hard about it. Which he didn’t. Or at least tried not to. He lusted after the Horseman; he didn’t need to feel for him as well.

“And you think you have a right to a piece of that?”

He knew he didn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been a moth to their flame from the moment they’d met, with no chance of getting himself free.

“No.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“I don’t give a shit what you think. You’ve made it perfectly clear where I stand. I’m not trying to change that.”

“Aren’t you?”

He might have if he thought it would work. If he thought for a second that Conquest felt anything like he did. If either of them did. But it was just a dream more akin to a nightmare, and he was ready to wake up.

“Con?”

Atlas froze at Raziel’s sweet voice. He tried to turn his head, but Conquest wouldn’t let him, holding tight to his chin. Atlas didn’t bother to fight it; Conquest was too strong, an inhuman strength that Atlas could spend the rest of his life pushing against and never move an inch.

“I told you to stay with Famine,” Conquest scolded. “It’s not safe for anyone to be traveling alone.”

Atlas knew that had been directed at him as well. He didn’t give a fuck what Conquest thought; he wasn’t in charge, and Atlas would go wherever he wanted. He couldn’t fight him physically , but his mind was his own. And he would do anything to keep it that way.

“I missed you,” Raziel said. Atlas could hear the smile in his voice, the complete confidence in his place with this man. Why wouldn’t he feel that way? Conquest would never hurt him, and they knew it.

Conquest scowled. His hold loosened enough on Atlas that he was able to twist, spying where Raziel half bounced across the room to them, happiness in every step.

“I told you I wouldn’t be long,” Conquest said. “When I give you an order, I expect you to listen.”

Raziel didn’t answer. He climbed up onto a stool and then used it to get on the bar. He crossed his legs and glanced between them. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Raziel bent forward, stretching his arms out over his legs and spreading fingers over the bar’s surface. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It looks like you didn’t stay with Famine the way I told you to,” Conquest said.

Conquest hadn’t removed himself from Atlas’s space, still touching him like he had every right to. Atlas wished he weren’t so acutely aware of it. He could use a second to breathe. Having Raziel right there, almost fucking bent over on the bar, wasn’t helping.

“I’m strong,” Raziel said soothingly, like he was trying to settle a wild beast. “I can handle myself.”

“Can you? Is that why you needed a human to protect you, to save your life?” Conquest asked, turning his attention completely to Atlas. Unfortunately, it didn’t make it easier for Atlas to breathe. They made it hard for him to think .

“That’s not fair.” Raziel sat back. “I—”

“I need you safe , Raziel,” Conquest said darkly. The hand around Atlas’s throat squeezed as if it were his fault, as if he hadn’t been the one to save Raziel. “I need you to be more careful, do you understand me? You’re stronger than you were, but they don’t fight like you do. All they want is your blood on their hands, and they’ll do anything to get it. We still don’t know what will happen if you’re killed again. Death can’t always be there, and especially not right now. We don’t know whether you would come back to me, and that’s not a risk I will ever be willing to take.”

Atlas frowned. “What the hell does that mean?” he asked. Again?

Raziel deflated, face softening and lips turning down. He rolled up onto his hands and knees and crawled toward them.

Atlas about swallowed his tongue. Fuck me . Would Conquest notice if Atlas’s dick paid attention to that? Hardly his fault when Raziel was all but bringing a fantasy to life.

Once he got close enough, Raziel lifted himself up onto his knees, twining his arms around Conquest’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I would never want to leave you. I froze. They were coming at me all at once, and I panicked.”

“We’ll work on it,” Conquest promised before claiming his lips. Raziel moaned, melting against him, hands sliding into Conquest’s thick hair. The movement caused his side to brush against Atlas’s arm, and Atlas bit his lip to stop himself from making noise.

Fucking hell , Conquest was still holding on to him while they were kissing. Were they planning on letting him go, or was this another form of punishment? Watching from afar wasn’t enough? He was so close now that he could feel it, without really being able to feel it. A whispered touch without ever making contact. He tried to pull away from Conquest’s large hand. The asshole held strong, and Atlas could have sworn he kissed Raziel harder. He was doing this on purpose, the fucker .

“I love you,” Raziel murmured against Conquest’s lips. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Don’t move around without someone with you.”

“Okay.”

“Not the human. Someone competent.”

Atlas clenched his fists against his hips. “I’m right here,” he muttered. “And also, fuck you very much, I’m not as useless as you think I am.” He could hold his own, had fought plenty of Demons, and he was still fucking here, wasn’t he?

Those gray eyes turned on him, and he froze, like a deer in headlights.

“Whether you’re useless or not isn’t part of the equation. What they’ve unleashed so far is nothing . You haven’t even begun to meet the worst of them. Not even close. None of Diablo’s Fallen Angels have been sighted. None of the highest-level Demons. Diablo himself isn’t even on the field yet. Do you want to know what will happen when they appear?”

Atlas fought not to react to the words. It had taken the entire might of the American armed forces to hold back what they’d seen so far. It had decimated their ranks and the population. And these were what… the weakest of their ranks?

He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer, but he had to ask the question. “What will happen?”

“It will be the end for all of you. Only two of the Four Horsemen are available to help you. We are the only thing stemming the tide right now, and we’re not infallible.”

“Are you actually admitting that someone can kill you?” Atlas scoffed. There was no way. Conquest was the most arrogant person to have ever lived.

“If they throw everything at us? We’re dead, and so are you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Even if he felt more than a tendril of fear at the words. What could he do that they couldn’t?

Conquest’s palm curved up Atlas’s throat, and his fingers dug painfully into Atlas’s jaw. Atlas both hated and craved how goddamn handsy he was all the time. He acted like he had every right to touch Atlas, and it should have pissed him off. He wanted to tilt his head and show throat at the same time he wanted to bare his teeth. Mark him up and see how he liked that show of possessiveness.

He was going insane. It was the only explanation.

“You want to be his guard, Atlas? Think you have what it takes?”

“Without me, he wouldn’t even be here,” Atlas shot back. “Do you think you have what it takes to keep him safe?”

Conquest wrapped a hand around Raziel’s throat and turned his head with a thumb against his chin. And then Atlas was looking into those beautiful blues. They were warmth incarnate, with infinite patience and softness that was so anathema to everything Atlas had learned about the world they were from. Brutality. Death. Savagery.

Raziel held none of those traits. A light so bright he was a beacon in the darkness.

“I know you have an idea of what I would do to you if something happened to him.”

Raziel’s gaze flickered. Pleased. He liked the show of ownership, of Conquest’s desire to keep him safe. Atlas couldn’t blame him. It was intoxicating, and Atlas wasn’t even the recipient of it.

“I would die first.” A vulnerable truth. No matter how little he got of either of them, he still cared about Raziel. He would give his life if it meant protecting him. Conquest could rant and rage and throw shit around if he wanted to, but it wouldn’t change how he felt. Contrary to his belief, Conquest couldn’t control everything.

Conquest finally stepped away from him. Except he took Raziel with him, and cold swamped Atlas, like he’d been pushed into a freezing pool of water, during winter. They took every bit of warmth with them, and the chasm between him and them had never felt so big as it did right in that moment. They were mere feet away, and yet it felt like an entire gorge.

“Whatever fight you think you’re in,” Conquest said. “You’re not. You’re pawns, and eventually, all the pawns are pushed off the board to make way for the real pieces.”

Atlas flattened his lips. He refused to believe that, no matter what Conquest said. “So what are you doing here, then? You can’t tell me that you and your brother would bother with a lost cause. You’re not here because you think we’re going to lose.”

Conquest smirked. He tipped Raziel’s chin up. “Where is Famine? I can’t feel him on Earth anymore.”

“Checking on Death,” Raziel answered, turning his head into Conquest’s palm and nuzzling him. “I told him I would go directly to you. Maybe they have news about War?”

Atlas wasn’t sure he wanted to meet the two men they called War and Death . Not exactly reassuring titles. Names? He’d never heard them called anything else. “Are they your actual names?”

“Yes.”

“Your parents couldn’t think of anything else?” Who named their kids that? Had they been slated to be Horsemen from birth?

Conquest pulled Raziel into his arms. “We don’t have parents.”

“Everyone has parents.”

“Every mortal has parents,” Conquest corrected. “My brothers and I don’t. We exist.”

Atlas’s brows drew in. They what? That made zero sense. “That doesn’t—that’s not how existing works. Not to mention, how can you be siblings if you don’t have the same parents?” Even one same parent. How could someone just exist?

“Is that the criteria for family?” Conquest asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Someone had to have created you,” Atlas pushed. Had they just sprung up from the ground?

“God did.”

Atlas’s brain hurt too much from this conversation. “So he’s your dad?”

Conquest sneered. “No.”

There was a story there. Did Atlas want to know? Partly yes, and partly hell no. From what little he’d seen, the world Conquest and the others came from was brutal and bloody. And liable to lop off his head at the first opportunity.

“What’s that?” Raziel asked, dancing around Conquest and heading to the far corner of the room.

“The pool tables?” Two were badly broken by the fallen roof. The other two were surprisingly intact.

“That doesn’t look like a pool. Where’s the water? It’s small.”

Atlas took a second to parse through that information. “No, not like a swimming pool. Like billiards. It’s a game.” He shot Conquest a challenging grin. “You ever played pool before?”

Conquest idly took in the table, the balls, and the cues on the wall. The ones not broken anyway. “No.”

“Do you want to play?”

“Yes!” Raziel said immediately. “Will you show us how?”

There was nothing on Earth that could have stopped Atlas from agreeing, not with the way Raziel smiled at him. He would give him anything he wanted.

Atlas reached up, grabbing the triangle rack hanging above the table, his shirt stretching up to reveal his stomach.

“You have a tattoo,” Conquest said.

Atlas tugged his top down, hiding it from view. “So?”

“What is it?”

“None of your business.”

Conquest’s half-cocked smile sent heat through him. He didn’t know what to do with that look. One second, he was making sure that Atlas knew they were off-limits—Raziel especially—and the next second, he was checking Atlas out like he wanted to lay him over the pool table and fuck him. Wanted to see his ink.

Which was it? Both? Neither? Was Conquest just fucking with him for fun? That one he could believe. These people, these out-of-this-world creatures, they weren’t anything like Atlas had ever encountered before. They didn’t play by the same rules as anyone else. Their cruelty and complete disregard for human life was abhorrent. It didn’t stop Atlas from wanting to lick Conquest from head to toe, or wanting to kiss Raziel and see if he tasted as good as he sounded.

He would never be able to unsee what Conquest had shown him. He was so much fucking bigger than Raziel, and the Angel had taken him so beautifully, his body completely accepting the intrusion. It was a dance they’d stepped to before, a familiarity between them that made him dizzy.

Raziel, standing directly beside Conquest, emphasizing their size difference and reminding him of it, was not helping. The Angel was so fucking small, and Conquest was so fucking big . Sweet, kind Raziel with his wide smile was nothing like Conquest, who was an asshole and so goddamn arrogant. Yet the love between them was obvious for anyone to see. How did they work? How had they even met? He wanted to learn everything, and that path of thought was dangerous.

Atlas fucked up the order of the balls the first go-around, too distracted by the man in front of him, and had to redo it. They were fucking hell on his concentration.

Heat licked at his cheeks, and he ignored it, acting like he knew what he was doing instead of making a fool of himself in front of them. Atlas used pool as a regular stress relief with friends. Matty had taught him how to play, though never enough to beat him. Matty was an absolute sweetheart everywhere except at the pool table, where he suddenly became a shark with zero loyalties. Had been. Atlas clenched his teeth as grief reminded him that Matty wasn’t here anymore. Past tense. He was gone.

“What has that look on your face?” Conquest asked, eyes narrowing.

Of course, he’d noticed and wasn’t polite enough to not say anything about it. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“So what?” Atlas bristled. He was allowed to have secrets. He owed Conquest nothing. His life, his grief, none of it belonged to him.

Conquest stepped closer to Atlas, and before he could back away, Conquest had his hand wrapped around Atlas’s throat.

“Stop fucking doing that,” Atlas hissed. He tugged at Conquest’s hold. Just because it wouldn’t do anything didn’t mean he would stop trying to get out of it. He was not some fucking dog to be led around, with Conquest acting as his handler and his leash.

“Should I dive inside, find out for myself?”

Dive inside? What the fuck did that mean? He struggled harder. “Let me go,” he said dangerously.

“No.” Conquest smiled. Atlas’s heart leapt into his throat, breathing suddenly secondary to the pure sexual invitation. He could only be described as devastating . Chiseled jaw, thick beard, heart-shaped lips, and those eyes . His personality should have rendered his good looks obsolete. Turned Atlas off completely. It did the complete opposite, Atlas so drawn to him he didn’t know what to do with all the feelings he evoked.

Raziel tugged on Conquest’s arm. “I thought we were playing pool?”

“Well, get on with it, then,” Conquest said, the corner of his mouth tipping to morph it into that familiar smirk.

One that should have pissed him off. And it did, a bit. It also made him hot. It didn’t matter what expression passed across his face. Conquest could turn him inside out with any look. He made Atlas vulnerable in ways he never had been. He didn’t think that he could ever top the way that Conquest had made him feel in that room, with just the three of them. Conquest hadn’t even touched him, and it was still the hottest thing he’d ever experienced.

Since their world had crashed into his, there had been death, destruction, and life as he knew it had been reduced to almost nothing. But he’d met them . And it was hard to regret any of it when they brought everything inside him to life.

He was well and truly fucked.

Raziel peered curiously at the rectangular table covered in green felt. Why would they call it a pool table if it wasn’t a pool? Why use the same word for two different things? Had they run out of words to use? Atlas had used another word too. Billiards. He didn’t understand.

He placed his hand on it, eyes closing.

Billiard table. A large rectangular table used to play the game of pool, with a flat surface of felt for the area of play. The table is surrounded by raised sides and cushions of rubber around the rim.

“What are you doing?” Atlas asked curiously.

“He’s learning,” Conquest answered for him.

Raziel whirled around and beamed. “We’re going to play, right?”

“If the big guy thinks he can handle it.” Atlas smirked, and it changed his whole face from handsome to sinister in a way too sexy to be real. Raziel’s heart sped up the same way it did with Conquest.

He turned away and met Conquest’s eyes. His face blank, Raziel couldn’t read him. What did he think about all of this? About Atlas ? He’d let Atlas watch them be intimate together. Constantly had his hands on him; did he notice just how much he touched Atlas? Conquest looked at him the same way that Raziel did, albeit with a dangerous glint in his gray eyes. Conquest always looked like that, though. Like he was contemplating whether he wanted to commit murder or not. An automatic check he did with everything and everyone that stepped in his path.

Raziel didn’t want to hurt Conquest with any of this. Never wanted him to feel like he wasn’t Raziel’s whole world. He always would be. He loved Conquest to the point that sometimes it hurt, thinking about how much, and nothing would ever change that. Atlas fascinated him, and he wanted to touch and see what it was that pulled him in so thoroughly. He didn’t know why it was hard to look away from the sharp beauty of his face, why there was something so familiar about him.

But not at the expense of Conquest.

He bounced over to Conquest and plastered himself to his front, tipping his head up. “I’m on your side,” he said quietly. In all things. Conquest needed to know that.

Conquest buried his fingers in Raziel’s hair and pulled his head back a little further. His critical gaze intimidated even the strongest of Demons. It had once made Raziel quiver in fear. For his life, for his sanity. Now it meant safety. Being the center of attention for this Horseman was unlike anything else in existence. Heady. Exhilarating. Warm .

Conquest kissed him softly, lips clinging. He coaxed his mouth open with a demanding tongue, sliding inside. He took his time until Raziel’s knees weakened, and his entire body tingled, arousal making him dizzy.

Atlas waited for them, hip leaning against the table, a blush covering his upper cheeks. The underlying current between all of them couldn’t be ignored.

Atlas cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”

Raziel almost thought he meant, like, something sexual. His body got on board with that quickly, already oversensitive from Conquest’s drugging kisses. Then he realized Atlas meant the game. Which made more sense.

“How do we play?” Raziel asked curiously.

“First, pick a cue.” Atlas pointed to where a few long sticks hung on the wall. Most of them were broken, but there were five still intact.

He smoothed his palm down one of them. Cue stick. Tapered sticks made of wood used to strike a ball. Standard length for pool and billiards is 2.25 inches in diameter in America.

“We’re playing eight ball,” Atlas explained. “The aim is to get all your balls in the pockets before your opponent and then sink the eight ball”—Atlas showed him which one that was—“in the pocket that you indicate you’re going to. That bit’s important; you have to declare where you’re hitting it. Goes in the wrong pocket? No dice. First we break, which is”—Atlas placed a white ball on the line opposite the triangle of balls he’d created—“hitting this ball into those ones. There are two kinds of balls, stripes and solids. I think which is which is pretty self-explanatory.”

Heat rushed over Raziel as Atlas bent over the table, lining his cue up with the white ball. “Is… is that part of the game?”

Atlas tilted his head so their eyes met, a sly grin across his face. “Gotta get a good shot, sweetheart.”

The growl that came from Conquest only made Raziel burn hotter. When he turned to look, he found Conquest staring at Atlas with a speculative gaze. All of Atlas, including the ass he had tilted up so provocatively. Was this game supposed to be like this? Was it a… a sex game?

A smile flirted on Atlas’s lips, like he knew what they were thinking. He hit the white ball, and it smashed into the others. A loud smack sounded, and then the balls scattered. A solid “five” went in the top left pocket. Atlas straightened, turning with a hand wrapped around the top of the cue. “Guess I’m solids.”

Raziel was solid too. Uncomfortably solid. First from Conquest and now Atlas. Is this how he would die? Sexual frustration? It seemed a cruel way to go.

Atlas lined up and hit another two balls into a pocket.

“How long does your turn go for?” Conquest questioned, eyes narrowed at the table. “The game seems awfully one-sided.”

“Until I foul or fail to put a ball in a pocket.”

Conquest scowled, looking two seconds away from breaking the stick in Atlas’s hand. “Explain.”

“I foul if I don’t hit any balls.” Atlas bent over again—was he going to keep doing that? It was getting hard enough to breathe in here through the thick tension as it was—and moved his cue around, changing the angles. “Or I pocket the cue ball.” He half stood and then moved closer to Conquest before bending again, giving Conquest both an eyeful and access to touch. “Excuse me.”

Conquest didn’t move. Atlas’s eyes met Raziel’s, and then he brushed up against Conquest, ass pushed against his hip as he lined up his shot. “If I hit the eight ball first,” he said, his voice a little huskier now. “If I touch the ball with my hand.”

He hit the white ball, and it went wide, only grazing a solid. Nothing went in the pocket. Did that mean a foul?

Raziel couldn’t think about anything else except the positions Conquest and Atlas were in. If Atlas shifted a little to the right, Conquest’s cock would be right near his ass. If they weren’t wearing clothes, he could slide right in.

Before Conquest, Raziel would never have had thoughts like this. Nothing so wanton or needy . Now it was all he could think about. And it should bother him, shouldn’t it? The idea of Conquest touching someone else. Except this wasn’t just someone else . This was Atlas. Conquest was his home, and Atlas felt like coming home.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Conquest said in a low voice. “And you aren’t prepared for the consequences.”

“We’re just playing pool,” Atlas said. If he was going for nonchalance, he ruined it with the waver in his voice.

Conquest’s hand hovered over Atlas’s hips, expression hard. Raziel’s fingers itched. What would Conquest do if he pushed the hand down so they made contact? He almost took a step forward to do just that.

“Is this how you always play?” Conquest asked in a gravelly voice, the roughness of it like a physical caress down Raziel’s spine.

“People usually move.”

“And if they don’t?”

Atlas bowed his head, knuckles going white around his cue. It arched his hips just a fraction, almost putting him in contact with Conquest’s hand. “It means they want something else.”

“Do I want something else, Atlas?”

Raziel couldn’t breathe. Too afraid to make a single noise in case he broke the spell they were under. He couldn’t let this pass him by without knowing, without seeing . This time the touch would be with a certain intent that hadn’t been there before. Not violent. Not to show dominance. For something else entirely.

“I don’t know,” Atlas said on a groan, his mouth hanging open as he closed his eyes. “Do you?”

Yes. Please.

Conquest looked right at Raziel, and his chest tightened. He felt like he was on a precipice, one foot already over the edge, and all it would take to go over was a single whisper of a touch.

“Do I, baby Angel?”

A loaded question. Did Conquest want to touch Atlas? Raziel knew he did. Did Raziel want him to? Yes. Without hesitation. Whatever misgivings they had—misunderstandings, charged energy, or even hatred—Raziel wasn’t part of that. He’d spent so many years of his life alone and lonely, surrounded by Angels that wouldn’t even look at him, sneering at him behind his back. Forgotten, lost, isolated.

Conquest gave him everything that he had ever dreamed of. Love, companionship, endless patience, and adoration. Why would he say no to more of that? They’d both felt the connection. Why would he deny either of them the happiness that could be theirs if they reached for it?

“Please,” fell from Raziel’s lips. Barely a whisper. Had he even spoken? He had to have, because Conquest’s nostrils flared, and then a hand curled around Atlas’s hip. Raziel jerked as if he were the one being touched. Conquest’s large hand splayed across so much of Atlas’s body. If he wasn’t wearing a shirt, it would be right over that extraordinary tattoo on his side.

Atlas lost his grip on the cue, and it clattered against the side of the table and then onto the floor. Conquest moved Atlas’s hips so they were directly lined up with him and then pushed forward, fitting himself in the curve of his ass. Atlas groaned, hands stretching and curling and stretching again over the green felt.

Raziel ached, butterflies dancing in his stomach.

“Is that what you want?” Conquest growled harshly. He fisted Atlas’s hair and yanked his head back as he thrust his hips, mimicking the real thing. Raziel leaked in his pants, and he pressed his palm down over it, adding pressure. “You want me to fuck you, Atlas? Tear your ass apart and make you feel me?”

Atlas had no words, blissed out with mouth open and eyes shut tight. He looked so beautiful that Raziel wanted to get closer, feel the rapidly beating pulse on his neck, down across his shoulders and right where he and Conquest were joined together. He also wanted to stay right where he was, content to witness the way they fed off each other.

“I could rip your pants down right now, force myself in your dry hole, and tear you apart, and you’d love every second of it.” He pressed his lips to Atlas’s ear. “Wouldn’t you?” He shoved so hard against Atlas that the pool table moved. He shifted, covering Atlas, hands spread on the table either side of his body, almost concealing him completely from sight. “Wouldn’t you?” he demanded.

Raziel ventured closer, needing to see better. He hiked himself up onto the table, directly in front so that he could see them properly.

“Is this what you want, Raziel?” Conquest asked harshly, anger, lust, and a hint of pain in his voice. He moved one arm, wrapping a hand around Atlas’s throat, a place he seemed to favor holding him.

“I want you,” Raziel answered honestly. No matter what he wanted with Atlas, losing Conquest wasn’t part of the equation. If that was the price to pay, he wouldn’t. He could never forget the human with fire in his eyes, but he couldn’t live without Conquest. They were in it together, or they weren’t in it at all.

“And him.”

Raziel’s throat worked as he tried to think of how to answer that without shattering the man he loved more than anything. He reached forward, hand hovering over Atlas’s cheek, so close he could feel his body heat, and then down to where Conquest held him around the throat. “Yes.” Pointless to lie, no matter what the truth meant. Conquest already knew. Maybe he was struggling to admit that he wanted Atlas, too, but he was well aware of Raziel’s feelings. Raziel could never hide from him. “With you.”

Conquest’s nostrils flared. “No.” He shoved away from Atlas, hard enough that Atlas grunted in pain. “No,” he repeated hoarsely before sweeping from the room, cape gliding behind him.

Atlas stayed where he was, not lifting his head, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing. Like he was frozen in time, unable to move and let the world back into the bubble they’d created.

Dread ran through Raziel veins as if his own acid was eating him from the inside out.

What had he done?