Atlas, Part 1 (A Four Horsemen Companion Duet)

Chapter 9

Watching Atlas sleep disconcerted Raziel more than it comforted him. He went to poke him again, and Conquest caught his hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

“Stop.”

“I’m just checking.” Raziel pouted. “He’s sleeping like the dead!” The barest hint of the rise and fall of his chest wasn’t enough to convince Raziel that Conquest hadn’t actually killed him earlier. He’d been so unresponsive afterward, letting them wash him and put him to bed without a single protest. So unlike their prickly, argumentative mortal that Raziel was worried.

“I would know if he were no longer breathing. Let him sleep.”

Resisting the urge to poke once more, Raziel rested his head back against his pillow and settled for stroking the strands of Atlas’s hair between his fingers. Still damp from the shower, sliding over his skin like silk.

Conquest watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, gaze speculative. Half propped up against the headboard, he had the perfect view of Atlas and Raziel, who were lying down. Atlas curled against Conquest, head on his chest. They looked beautiful together, with Conquest’s hand rested possessively on Atlas’s shoulder. Better than Raziel could have imagined. His heart fluttered with his happiness, and he wondered if that was how he was supposed to feel? He didn’t have the same struggles as Conquest, not with what Atlas could mean to them.

“Is it—do you regret it?” he asked quietly. Conquest had given so many liberties to Atlas, allowed him to have so much of them both. Raziel only hoped it was because he’d wanted it and not just because Raziel did.

“Regret is useless.”

The nonanswer frightened Raziel. Conquest had been the first person to look at him and see him , to treat him like he was more, believe in him. The first to ever love him. He never wanted to damage what they had.

“Sometimes we feel things that are useless.” Raziel had felt a lot of emotions over the years that he could have gone without. It didn’t mean they hadn’t plagued him anyway.

The corner of Conquest’s mouth twitched, almost as though he were amused by the statement. He raised a hand, knuckles caressing the underside of Raziel’s jaw. “I won’t share you, Raziel. None of you. Not your heart, your body, or your soul. They answer only to me.”

Raziel leaned into the touch. “I know,” he said, voice barely a whisper. He retracted his fingers from Atlas’s hair. Or tried to. Conquest trapped him there with his own large hand.

“Did you like fucking him?”

Raziel jolted at the abrupt question. Atlas reacted to the sudden movement, murmuring in his sleep. He curled further against Conquest, his mouth open, lips pressed to Conquest’s skin.

“I don’t want to say the wrong thing,” Raziel said. He didn’t want to break the fragile steps forward they’d taken.

“It’s too late for modesty, Raziel. You had your dick inside him. He had his inside you. I fucked him until he broke. Tell me how it felt. I want to hear it from your lips.”

“I liked it,” Raziel said, voice cracking. “Being so close to him. To you .” Having Atlas between them had been an extraordinary experience. Conquest’s warmth surrounding them both, and Atlas so beautifully wrecked by them. “I liked…” He trailed off, biting his lip. His cheeks and throat burned in embarrassment.

Conquest noticed, of course. “What did you like?” he pursued.

“I liked him inside,” Raziel said. He didn’t know why the words were so hard to say after everything they’d done together. Being so candid about it, freely talking about it, didn’t come easy to him. And he still didn’t know how Conquest really felt about all of it, and he worried that one wrong word was all it would take to crumble the fragile foundation they’d built. “And when you were inside him, it was like you were in both of us.”

“You didn’t like fucking him?”

Raziel brushed the pads of his fingers across Atlas’s back and then up to his shoulder, where one of Conquest’s hands rested. “It’s not that I didn’t. It was nice? It just wasn’t…” How did he explain that he didn’t like it as much? That he’d felt empty? That he’d wanted someone inside him while they all touched?

“Not what you need?” Conquest asked, correctly interpreting what he struggled to say. “You need to be fucked, baby Angel?”

Raziel didn’t answer, lips trembling. Was that wrong?

Conquest’s Power pushed out from his hand, the light purple dancing in thin lines around them and then up under Raziel’s chin, tilting it up.

“Don’t be ashamed of what you like,” Conquest said. “I love nothing more than having you squeeze around me, fucking you hard and deep until you’re so gone for me that the rest of the world falls away.” The energy brushed across his temple and then into his hair, bumps of pleasure erupting as it moved over his skin. Raziel’s eyes fluttered closed on a stuttered breath. “If it’s a cock in your ass that does it for you, then I’m happy to oblige. I don’t think Atlas considered it a hardship either. And he can now relate to the feeling you crave. I bet he’s never had a cock in his ass before you. Doesn’t seem like his style.”

“Oh.” Raziel tilted his head. Conquest sounded confident in that conclusion. “Does he not like it?” He could have said something if he didn’t want that. They would never have forced it on him if it wasn’t his preference. Even Conquest wouldn’t have; Atlas would learn he was all bark and no bite when it came to the people he cared about.

“Don’t worry, he loved every second of it all.”

“Does that mean we’re doing this again?” Raziel asked tentatively. “That you want…” Him? The answer might have seemed obvious after the sex, but Conquest’s behavior didn’t always present the way it looked below the surface. He didn’t jump to the same conclusions, or decide on the same end, simply because he chose to walk his own path. Not to mention the contrary streak he had. One similar to Atlas’s, in fact.

“I meant what I said when I told him that no one else will ever touch him again. I’ll kill anyone who dares, and then I’ll kill him for allowing it.” He paused. “I also meant it when I said that I won’t share you.”

“I don’t understand,” Raziel admitted. How could it be both?

“You care for him.” Conquest looked down to where Atlas slept deeply, looking far more peaceful in slumber than he ever did when awake. All his worries gone, the heavy weight of responsibility lifted. “ I care for him,” Conquest said, sounding as though it pained him to admit it. “He’s somehow part of this. An extension to what we are, not an addition. Sharing insinuates that I’ll allow others to bring you pleasure for the sake of pleasure. That won’t ever happen. If this was just about sex, I would never have let it get this far.”

Raziel’s wings fluttered and tightened around them, cocooning them further. He would keep them forever if he could.

“You belong to me,” Conquest said gruffly. “And so does he. When he touches you, I’m touching you. Do you understand?”

An extension, not an addition.

The third side of a triangle they hadn’t known existed. A piece that had changed their shape, never to return to the original. “They say that three denotes divine perfection,” Raziel murmured quietly. “The tripartite nature of the world.”

Conquest’s eyebrow arched elegantly. “Who is they ?”

“Books, mostly. Francisco Goya painted a picture of the Tetragrammaton: adoration of the name of God. Do you think it means something?”

“I don’t put any stock in anything said by anyone that worships that power-hungry dictator. So, no.”

Raziel had spent so many hours reading the books in Heaven’s library, and then, when Conquest had given him his freedom, the vast expanse of knowledge in the mortal libraries. Soaking everything up so he could know more. About the world, about himself. He’d been purposely kept in the dark in Heaven, held back from reaching his true potential because they were all afraid of what would happen.

Conquest allowed him to spread his wings and seek out knowledge. Encouraged his thoughts and never tried to hold him back. The opposite, in fact. He worked hard to strengthen Raziel, believing that he had so much more growth inside him. He was whole, safe, and strong because Conquest believed in him and gave him a safety net he’d never dared to dream of having.

Raziel caressed down Atlas’s neck, lingering on a bruise in the shape of Conquest’s lips. Their human shivered but didn’t wake. “I think it means something.” Atlas had an energy about him that Raziel found strangely familiar. Like he’d known him before. Whether it was wishful thinking, or events that were echoes of Abaddon’s life, Raziel didn’t know. He would hold tight to the feeling because it brought him a quiet peace he’d never experienced.

Atlas shifted in their arms, eyes slowly opening. He blinked a few times, and then it was like he went from “asleep” to “awake” in point two seconds. He attempted to sit up, and Conquest kept him down with a hand on his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Conquest asked, a dangerous thread to his tone.

“How long have I been asleep? I need to get back.”

“They’re fine,” Conquest said dismissively.

Atlas tried to get up again, and Conquest sent him a warning look. That he ignored. “You don’t know that; fucking let me up.”

“Famine is with them; he’ll contact me if they have need of you.”

“I have video meetings with the prime ministers of Australia and Canada, and then I need to coordinate with what’s left of the logistics team about supplies. I can’t—”

Raziel put a finger over Atlas’s lips, quietening him. “Breathe. If it’s going to fall apart, it will happen whether you’re there or not.”

“Was that your version of a pep talk?”

“Not good?” Raziel asked, trying to bite back a smile.

“It needs a little work.”

Conquest drew Atlas up enough to kiss him, mouth moving slowly over his. The only thought in Raziel’s mind as he watched was how striking they were. How Atlas fit between them, against them, around them. With them. Slotted into place like he’d always been there. Raziel would do anything to protect him. Even if it meant darkening parts of his soul. It would be worth it to keep both of his men safe.

“When I’m ready to leave, we’ll return you to your duties.”

“You don’t get to decide when I leave,” Atlas growled. “Just because I let you fuck me doesn’t mean that you own me.”

“That’s precisely what it means.” Conquest shifted a leg over Atlas’s lower half, trapping him in. A good idea since the glint in his eye was a clear message that he wanted to get up. “It means that your ass belongs to us now, and if I tell you to bend over and present it to us even in a room full of people, you do it. It means when I tell you to do something…” He licked up Atlas’s throat and across his cheek before kissing him, hard. “ You do it .”

Raziel ran a hand up Conquest’s calf and thick thigh, the coarse hair tickling, exploring while they argued.

“Is this controlling bullshit a one-way street? Or do I get to tell you to jump off a cliff, and you just have to do it?” Atlas asked sarcastically. His breath hitched when Raziel continued his physical perusal of their bodies, going up Atlas’s chest and then across Conquest’s arm.

Raziel only half listened to them, bending down to bite gently on Atlas’s shoulder. He smelled of soap and tasted of salt. He picked up Atlas’s dog tags, trailing his fingers up and down the warm metal chain. The tags clinked as he played with them.

“I warned you,” Conquest said darkly, “that you weren’t prepared for the consequences, and you didn’t listen. It’s too late now; you chose your fate.”

“That’s insane, you know that, right? Wanting to have sex with you doesn’t mean I hand over complete control of me.”

“If all you wanted was a quick fuck, you picked the wrong people to do it with,” Conquest said, eyes hardening.

“Don’t put words into my mouth.”

“I don’t need to.” Conquest leaned forward, lips brushing on every word. “Your intent doesn’t matter, Atlas. You chose this path, and now you’re walking it.”

Atlas’s sharp jaw twitched.

“Tell me about your tattoo,” Conquest said, not giving him a chance to argue. He splayed his hand right over it, almost completely covering it. Raziel shifted some fingers, taking another peek at the stunning artistry. A large analog clock in the center, a banner above with two clocks peeking out from atop, and then another banner at the bottom, with two clocks peeking from below.

“What about it?” Atlas asked suspiciously.

“You don’t expect me to believe that something like that is random, do you?” Conquest drawled. He brushed his knuckles over the top words. “Why these words?”

“It’s personal,” Atlas bit out, stomach rippling under Conquest’s touch.

Raziel traced around the numbers of the largest clock. “Are we not personal?” he asked, hurt. They’d shared so much, so why would he hide pieces of himself from them? It meant something important to Atlas, and Raziel didn’t like the thought that they didn’t mean enough to know.

“It’s not that—it’s—” Atlas sighed. He dropped his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. It stretched out his chest so that Raziel and Conquest could get a better look at the artwork across his soft skin.

“We didn’t have a lot of money growing up. Food stamps, secondhand clothes, and on my birthday, I got new shoes and pencils for school. My parents did the best they could with what we had, but there was no way we could have ever afforded for me to go to college.” He let out a ragged breath, and Raziel picked up Atlas’s hand, kissing his knuckles before pressing them to his cheek. It seemed to give Atlas the strength he needed to continue. “So I joined the military because what other options did I have? I wanted to do something with myself, be enough that they would never have to worry about where their next meal was coming from for the rest of their lives. Guess I succeeded at that since they’re dead now.”

Raziel swallowed hard, a tear tracking down his cheek. He held tighter to Atlas’s hand.

“And the words?” Conquest asked quietly.

“The military put me through school, gave me everything that I’d wanted, everything I’d been looking for.” He huffed out a laugh. “What they don’t tell you is how much they take in return. Once you sign on the dotted line… there’s no freedom. Your life isn’t your own; it belongs to them. I got this to remind myself that I’m still in charge of my own fate. That it doesn’t matter what they try to take, there are parts that they never get to have.”

I am the master of my own fate.

Even that had been taken from him now. No wonder he fought so hard to keep what little of the world he had left.

“And the other?” Conquest asked. “That isn’t the line from the poem.”

Raziel traced the words. You are the captain of my soul.

Atlas paused. “You know Henley?”

“I know a lot of things.”

Atlas’s lips curved up in a mocking smile, though he still didn’t open his eyes. “I don’t know why I changed it. Instinct, I guess? Like it was meant to be different. I can’t explain it.”

“Who is ‘you’?” Conquest asked. “Who owns your soul, Atlas?”

His eyes did open then, searching and finding Conquest’s instantly. Something shifted between them, and then they were kissing, Atlas surging up and meeting him in the middle. Atlas groaned as Conquest took over, as demanding as ever. It was impossible to do anything but surrender against that kind of intensity, Raziel knew. No use fighting the magnetic pull. The pleasure of surrendering made it worth it.

Raziel moved Conquest’s leg out of the way so that he could straddle Atlas. His fully hard dick nestled against Raziel’s ass, and he wanted more. He rocked his hips, biting his lip on a moan. The double sensation of watching the men together and the frotting was almost too much. He spread his wings, resting them on the bed behind him, over their legs and the sheets, the luxurious feel of it making each individual feather tingle pleasantly.

He had to get Atlas inside him. Where was the—there. Raziel snatched up the lube from the nightstand and poured too much over Atlas’s cock in his haste. Didn’t matter. More was good.

Conquest rose up onto his knees and moved to cover Raziel’s back. He nuzzled Raziel’s neck. He took the lube from Raziel, and then moments later, three lubed-up fingers shoved into him, not giving him a second to adjust before they fucked him. “Feel how wet and ready you are for him, baby Angel.”

Raziel arched into him even as he lifted himself just enough to grasp Atlas’s cock and line himself up. He moaned, throwing his head back as Atlas sank deep inside him. His knees shook from the pleasure, and he all but fell the last few inches, slamming down onto Atlas’s hip and impaling himself.

He struggled to control his Gift as Atlas overtook his senses. He knew he was leaking it, the tips of his wings dripping. He couldn’t let it touch Atlas.

“Control it,” Conquest whispered in his ear. “You’re stronger than that, baby Angel.”

He was. Raziel closed his eyes, turning his head, Conquest’s lips finding his. He was stronger than that. This terrifying giant looked at Raziel and saw a strength no one else did, and it made him feel powerful, worthy .

His wings fluttered as the poison dried, disappearing under a flurry of sensations from these incredible men. Raziel reached back and twined his arms around Conquest’s neck as he lifted and lowered himself on Atlas, using the hold as leverage.

Needy whimpers filled the air as Atlas hit that perfect spot inside him. Yes, right there. He pressed harder against Conquest, licking into his mouth with erratic strokes of his tongue, trying to convey just what he felt, what he needed.

But Conquest knew. He always knew. He wrapped his large hand around Raziel’s dick, and that was all it took for him to come, his orgasm cascading out of him like a tidal wave, spraying over Atlas’s chest, some falling over the tattoo.

Conquest let go of his mouth, giving him a moment to breathe as he came down from his high. He nudged Raziel forward, coaxing him to spread over Atlas. It forced Atlas’s cock out of him, but their lips found each other, and he was too distracted to care, eagerly ducking into Atlas’s mouth and tasting him.

He cried out, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Conquest thrust into him, taking up the space Atlas had left behind, stretching him that much wider. Conquest didn’t give him time to adjust to his bigger size, immediately fucking hard into him.

Conquest had taught him what pleasure really means and how powerful it could be. Without him, there was no pleasure. No matter how many times they did this, Raziel would never get enough of feeling those rough hands gliding over his skin, that perfect thickness splitting him open until there was nothing else left to do but feel . Conquest owned him; he was never more in tune with what that meant than when Conquest was with him like this.

And now Atlas, right in the heart of who they were. Making a space for himself where there had been no space.

Raziel’s legs flattened and spread on the bed to make room for Conquest’s sheer bulk, his wings plastered against Conquest’s chest, rubbing on his skin as he rolled his hips, getting deeper on every thrust. Raziel couldn’t control the sounds coming out of him as he clung to Atlas, using him to hold himself steady as Conquest used him.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Atlas rasped, pushing his lower half up against Raziel.

“I—” Raziel hesitated. “Do you want me to?” He would if that’s what Atlas wanted. It hadn’t been bad in any way, and he’d enjoyed himself.

Conquest slowed his thrusts, curving his hands around Raziel’s waist. “Tell him what you want,” he said forcefully.

Atlas cradled his face, brows drawn in. “Do you want something else, Raziel? It’s okay; tell me.”

“I like…” Being used wasn’t quite right. It felt good with Conquest because he loved Raziel, not because he treated him like a toy. The emotion changed it into something so much more than physical. “I like…” He tried to get the words out. His throat closed, a lump forming. “I like…” Why couldn’t he just say it? Conquest had made him say way filthier things than that during some of their sessions.

Admitting what he liked sexually shouldn’t be this hard. He knew they would never make fun of him, or mock him for it.

“You like being fucked, sweetheart?” Atlas asked. He worked his hand between them, wrapping his long fingers around Raziel’s dick. “You like getting filled?” He kissed the corner of Raziel’s mouth and then up his jaw, pressing lips to his ear. “You don’t like being empty and left wanting?” He reached around to where Conquest was rocking in and out of him, a finger sliding in alongside.

Raziel moaned, eyes sliding shut as he bit his bottom lip, hanging his head and burying his face in Atlas’s shoulder.

Conquest licked up his throat and sucked on the underside of his jaw. “Tell him, Raziel. Say it .”

“I do,” was all he could manage. Please be enough.

“Does that include your pretty mouth?” Atlas asked, thumbing Raziel’s bottom lip.

The word “yes” all but fell out of him. Yes, please. Having them on either side of him, loving him, felt like asking for too much, when he’d already gotten more than he deserved from Conquest. He reached for it anyway.

Atlas’s blue eyes flicked over Raziel’s shoulder, and whatever unspoken conversation he had with Conquest, suddenly Raziel found himself pulled to his knees, the angle forcing Conquest deeper, impaling him. He fisted his hands in the sheets, wings fluttering like tiny tremors.

His breath caught when he lifted his head. Atlas looked ferocious, like a warrior that had found its prey. Him. He was the prey. His stomach flipped, lust spreading.

Atlas carded his fingers through Raziel’s hair, gently tugging and getting him into position. For his cock. Raziel’s eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the touch. He opened his mouth, expecting Atlas to fill him and give him exactly what he’d asked for.

Instead, he took his time, gliding the head over Raziel’s lips and then across his cheek, under his chin, leaving a smear of pre-cum in his wake.

Raziel flicked his tongue out, tasting it, saltiness bursting on the tip. Conquest picked up his pace again with unyielding thrusts, and Raziel braced himself, hands digging into Atlas’s thighs.

Atlas pushed his thumb into Raziel’s mouth, and he closed around it, sucking and twirling his tongue like he would if it were Atlas’s dick. Raziel moaned when Atlas finally worked himself inside, silky skin invading with a heavy weight on his tongue.

Every time Conquest filled him, he forced Atlas further down Raziel’s throat, choking him. The moment of reprieve when he pulled out wasn’t enough time for him to suck in a ragged breath before he shoved back in. He had no choice but to take them both as they fucked him on either end.

The touches on his face, over his ears, and across his hair were so soft that Raziel barely felt them under the onslaught of everything else, and yet they carved a place out in his heart. Atlas, a hardened warrior—so much like Conquest in so many ways—treated him gently, with kindness and consideration. His past hurts had sharpened all his jagged edges until it had become how he defined himself, and yet here, with them, he was so much more than that.

He was theirs . Atlas called to them, like a kindred spirit calling them home. Raziel wanted to find all the hurts he carried and heal them. Most of all, he wanted to be let in so that he could love Atlas the way that he loved Conquest.

Atlas shifted above him, hands sliding over his shoulders, and then the sound of him and Conquest kissing covered Raziel like a blanket. He shuddered, unbelievably turned on, his eyes fluttering closed.

Feeling them connecting above him made his heart soar. Lust pooled in his belly as everything tightened, and he careened like he was flying through the clouds. He was so close again, he just needed to get a hand on himself, and he would come a second time. He sucked harder on Atlas and pushed back, taking Conquest deeper. Back and forth, trying to take as much of them both as he could.

“Do you need something, baby Angel?” Conquest asked before pressing a kiss to Raziel’s shoulder. “I can smell how close you are.”

Raziel lifted from Atlas so that he could breathe out, “Please ,” in a raspy tone.

Atlas fisted himself, tipping Raziel’s head up with a finger under his chin. “I want to come all over your face.”

Raziel’s dick twitched, balls tightening.

“Come for me,” Conquest ordered before thrusting hard, hitting that incredible spot inside of him and staying there, pushing up against it and overwhelming him. He came instantly, shivering from the intensity.

Atlas groaned, wrist moving furiously, and then he followed, cum splashing over Raziel’s face. On his bottom lip and chin and a little on his cheek. Raziel’s tongue darted out to taste what he could reach. He bent forward, even as Conquest continued to fuck hard into him, and took Atlas’s cock back into his mouth, lapping up the rest of his release.

“Fuck ,” Atlas hissed, cradling the back of Raziel’s head with one hand, tiny thrusts as Raziel cleaned him.

Raziel made sure to get every last drop even after Atlas twitched from the sensitivity. He couldn’t waste it, not when it tasted so good.

“You look…” Atlas trailed off, licking his lips.

Conquest pulled out of Raziel, and then he was being turned around, pressed into Atlas’s chest. Their eyes locked, heat between them with the flames that Conquest stoked deep in his heart, keeping him warm and safe.

Raziel’s breath left him in a sharp exhale at the first touch of Conquest’s tongue against his cheek. Licking Atlas off him . If he hadn’t already come, he would have right then.

Conquest took his time, cleaning every inch of Raziel’s face, even the parts already clean, before kissing him. The sheer volume of emotion in every stroke of his tongue was too much. It pulled Raziel in a million different directions, his skin vibrating, hands clenching and unclenching. He surrendered everything to this man that held the most vulnerable parts of him and treasured them.

Raziel reached down, wrapping his hands around Conquest’s still-hard cock. He hadn’t come yet, and that wouldn’t do. After everything he had done for them, he deserved release. He bent and flicked his tongue over the head, then all the way down his considerable length and back up again. He suckled the head before opening wider and getting as much as he could in his mouth.

When Atlas joined him, he eagerly turned his head, kissing him for a long moment before they returned their attention to Conquest.

Their tongues met every so often as they worked Conquest over, tasting every inch of him and taking turns to suck him deep down their throats. It wasn’t long before Conquest was close, and Raziel held the base of his cock, eagerly coaxing Atlas to take him there. He wanted to see him swallow around the thick length.

Conquest groaned, hands in both their hair, and then slammed himself into Atlas’s mouth, stilling and twitching as he came. Cum dribbled out of the corner of Atlas’s lips. Raziel licked it up, moving from Atlas’s lip up and over Conquest’s hardness. He waited until Conquest pulled out and then dragged Atlas’s bottom lip down, tasting more of it. Atlas kissed him properly, sharing it with him.

Raziel cupped his cheeks, not wanting to let go. He’d never imagined what this would be like, sharing Conquest with another person, because it was the last thing he would ever want. As much as he belonged to Conquest, the same was true in reverse. Conquest was his .

It didn’t feel like Atlas took anything from Raziel. Instead, he slotted in beside Raziel and added something special to what was already incredible.

Raziel leaned against Conquest’s thigh with a contented smile, tired enough that if left long enough, he knew he’d fall asleep. Atlas spread out on his back like a starfish. Raziel’s smile widened, gaze flicking over his impressively built body. The military had only done good things for his physique. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to work out where to get some extra energy so I can shower—again—get dressed, and go back to work; you know, where we’re dealing with the end of the world?”

“Sounds like a Tuesday,” Conquest said.

Atlas blinked, lifting his head in surprise. “Was that a joke? From you ?”

“Don’t get used to it. I’ve been through the end of the world more than a few times. It stands to reason that a few of those probably happened on a Tuesday. Though it wasn’t always called that. Different cultures, different times in the Cycle. Some don’t get as far as this.”

“Cycle?”

“This has happened before, and it will happen again. Every time we wipe the slate clean, mortals start again from the beginning, and they build it all back up again. You’re like cockroaches.”

Atlas rolled his eyes and dropped his head back down. “Charming. Have you really decimated an entire population of people for… for what?”

“It depends. The two main reasons are that the world has become too full of sin, and God summons us, or the world has become too full of purity, and Diablo summons us.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I suppose to you it seems that way. This isn’t humans killing other humans. It’s inevitable that every Cycle will come to an end. Whether you do it to yourself—which has happened more than I imagine you want to know—or we do it, it circles back around to the beginning. Sometimes the Cycle is short, sometimes it’s longer.”

Raziel didn’t know much about them himself. He hadn’t lived through a Cycle resetting itself, wasn’t old enough to have experienced it. The humans as they were now, in this time, were all he knew, and there was so much he didn’t know, because he’d stopped trying to learn. He’d read about them, from their society around a thousand years ago. Then he’d given up learning more when he realized he would never set foot outside of Heaven. If he’d known they would be so short-lived, he might have put more effort into at least understanding them.

“I’m supposed to be okay with you killing all of us because of some divine purpose?” Atlas asked, turning his head on the blanket and staring bleakly at Conquest.

“Not divine,” Conquest said. “Just a purpose.”

“You know that makes it worse, right? I’m not going to just accept that bullshit excuse and lie down and take it like there’s no other option.”

Raziel caressed Atlas’s calf, feeling the strength of his leg under his fingertips. He wasn’t anywhere near as big as Conquest, but he was defined, all corded muscle with gorgeous features. Stunning in a completely different way. Captivating and beautiful.

“Refusing to believe won’t change it,” Conquest said, sounding almost regretful about it. Knowing how this ends, getting attached seemed like a mistake. Except that Raziel thought like Atlas; there had to be another way that didn’t end in everyone dead. Mortal life was worth more than that.

“One of us is right, and one of us is wrong,” Atlas said curtly. He stood and gathered his clothes. “Only time will tell which is which.”

Conquest threaded his fingers behind his head, stretching out on the bed, with Raziel asleep beside him as Atlas looked through his closet. “What are you looking for?”

“Just gathering stuff,” Atlas said absently, shoving more clothes into the duffel bag at his feet. “I can’t come back here. It’s not safe.”

Conquest could argue that there was literally nowhere in the world that was. “Would you want to come back here?” Atlas seemed to have some attachment to the place even as small and shabby as it was.

“I just said it’s not safe.” Atlas shot him a look. “I know what you think of me. When I’m not naked, at least.”

“What makes you think I don’t also think it while you’re naked?” Conquest asked with a crooked smile.

The next piece of clothing—a black T-shirt—got shoved into the duffle with a tad more aggression. “I’m aware it was stupid of me to come here alone, or at all. I don’t have any intention of making the same mistake twice; there are plenty of new ones out there for me to get acquainted with.”

“Reassuring.” Conquest glanced to Raziel, curled into Conquest’s side, face soft in sleep, no different than it looked when awake. His Angel was simply soft . “And what do I think of you? I’m curious.”

“Don’t do that.”

The corner of Conquest’s mouth lifted. He didn’t answer, letting the silence linger until Atlas broke first.

“You’re an asshole. I know what you think of us.”

Us. Did Atlas not see that he couldn’t consider him part of that rank now? The companion of a Horseman carried a heavier weight than that.

“It’s hardly a secret.” Conquest freely admitted it. In fact, he enjoyed reminding them just how weak and pathetic they were. It wouldn’t do for them to have delusions of grandeur, after all. “There are a select few I would raise above the rest.”

Atlas squinted at him. “A few?”

Was he jealous ? “Just one,” Conquest corrected himself.

Atlas faltered, the jeans in his hand slipping out to pool on the floor and over his shoes. “And—who is that?”

“Are you looking for an ego stroke, Atlas?” He hardly needed one. The entire continent looked to him because they thought him worthy. Not enough adoration for him?

“I want to know,” he said firmly. “Are you talking about me ?”

“Who else would I be talking about? Have you seen me speak to another mortal?” He dealt with Atlas, the one in charge. The rest of them didn’t matter to him.

Conquest gently rearranged Raziel, making sure he was comfortable with a pillow under his head, before sliding from the bed and standing. He strode across the room, unashamed of his state of undress, and tipped Atlas’s defiant chin up with a single finger. “I’ve never met another human like you. Stubborn, infuriating, contrary.”

“Wow, what compliments.”

Conquest ignored that. “You lead from the front, even when you aren’t prepared for it. You fight, even when fighting is futile. You stand strong, like an old oak tree in the wind that refuses to give up, and you protect with your life, even when they don’t deserve it. And none of them deserve it, Atlas.”

“That’s not who I am.” Atlas’s nostrils flared, pain flickering in his blue eyes. He swiped up the jeans and shoved them into the bag in angry, jerky motions. “I can’t protect anyone. I lost someone important to me because I couldn’t protect him. My parents, my friends, my family. They’re all gone , and I couldn’t help them.”

The futility of the fight hadn’t sunk in yet. In the end, Atlas would lose everyone. The mortals weren’t making it through this even if Diablo hadn’t surfaced. Did he think the Horsemen roamed for altruistic reasons? “If you’d been there, you would have died alongside them.”

“You’re wrong. I killed the monster that took Matty from me,” Atlas said through gritted teeth. “If I’d been there, I could have saved him. I would have.”

Conquest tipped Atlas’s head to the side. So much anger and spite in him, settling in like a disease. If he wasn’t careful, it would eat him alive. “You weren’t there. And you can’t change that.” No use lingering on the past.

Atlas’s blue eyes darkened until they were almost black as raw fury took over. “You don’t know how to comfort people, do you?”

“Is that what you what? Comfort?” What would that do, except give false hope? It wouldn’t change the facts, and it would only make it harder to move on. No matter what regrets Atlas held, the past could never be changed. Conquest and his brothers knew that harsh truth better than anyone. The only option available was to move forward.

“From you? No, thanks. That’s akin to just throwing myself in a fire. That’d probably hurt less.”

Conquest probably should have been offended, but he’d never been the “kind” brother, and even Famine had his limits. “You take risks that frustrate me.” He brushed the pad of his thumb against the rapidly beating pulse in Atlas’s throat. “How can someone be so incredibly smart and so incredibly stupid at the same time?”

Atlas jerked his head to the side, dislodging Conquest’s touch. “Was that the comfort part, or is that coming in the next bit?”

“Anyone that attempts to touch Raziel dies. He’s mine, and no one gets to play with things that belong to me. I’m not generous, or kind, or giving .” He sneered the last word. Softness only ever gave an enemy an opening to exploit. He trained Raziel so that he could get to his full potential. When he harnessed that, he would be one of the most dangerous pieces on the board—the added bonus being that he would be safer: a strength for Conquest, not a weakness.

“You let me touch him.”

“Yes, I did.” Conquest pressed down into the hollow of Atlas’s throat, hard enough that it wouldn’t be all pleasure. Atlas swallowed around it, eyes hard and defiant as he stood still. So much stronger than any human had the right to be. Resilient and gorgeously defiant. “He was drawn to you from the very moment he met you. When you shot and stabbed me.”

“That doesn’t say anything flattering about you.”

“Would you like to know how many have done that to me and lived to tell that tale?”

Atlas wet his lips, and Conquest tracked the movement. “No.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the only reason you breathe is because of Raziel. You owe him so much more than just your life. Those parts of Raziel, the ones that are too soft for this world, those are the same ones that I love most. His heart is too big, and he takes risks in his own way because he gives no thought to his own safety when others are in danger. Something I believe the two of you have in common. He fights for a world that doesn’t exist, has never existed—one of peace, and love, and understanding. If I could, I would lock away those parts forever, never to see the light, so that they can never be burned out.”

As if he knew they were talking about him, Raziel rolled over in his sleep, grabbing a nearby pillow and hugging it to his chest before wrapping it in his wings.

“Why are you telling me this?” Atlas asked, watching Raziel nuzzle the pillow.

“The parts of Raziel that I dislike are the parts I will protect with everything in me because they are the most precious.” Conquest fisted Atlas’s hair, his other hand moving around his throat, trapping him where he was. “And that’s what it means to love someone.”

“I don’t know that love.”

“No?” Conquest didn’t doubt it. There was a difference between giving up his life for another and giving up his life for a person’s soul. One was martyrdom, and the other took everything.

“You are one of the parts of him that I dislike,” Conquest said. “The way he looks at you makes me want to kill everything in sight, burn the world to the ground, and watch as the mortals scream in agony for eternity, with you right in the middle.” He rested a thumb against the side of Atlas’s jaw and applied pressure to emphasize his point. “One twist of your neck, and you would be gone forever.”

Atlas flattened his hands against Conquest’s stomach, heat searing like a brand. “It won’t change the way he feels.”

Clever mortal. “No, it wouldn’t.” It would destroy his Angel, and that alone would stay Conquest’s hand, no matter what Atlas did or said. He had more immunity than he realized. “But the dead pose far less of a threat than any living being.” In most circumstances, though the nuances weren’t worth getting into. Atlas wouldn’t understand.

“So why don’t you do it?”

“Because the same part of Raziel that I dislike is the one I dislike in myself.” He kissed Atlas, drawing in his sounds even as he squeezed his throat, cutting off his air supply. He could kill him just like this, overload him with pleasure and deprive him of the oxygen he so desperately needed. He eased up just enough for Atlas to suck in a wheezing breath. “I look at you the same way that he does.”

“No, you don’t. You want to kill me as much as you want to kiss me,” Atlas rasped. “I can see it in your eyes. Which part wins?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? Will you kneel at my feet—a prize that belongs to me and to my Angel—or will you lay at them, nothing but a husk left as your soul departs for another world?”

It warred inside him, the anger and the lust, the need and the hatred. Conquest couldn’t remove the connection between Atlas and Raziel any more than he could remove it from himself and Atlas. The roots had sunk in too deep, and to poison it would be to poison them all.

Would Conquest kill them all to remove it? Or would he let the roots grow and wrap around them like a vine that would never let go?

Conquest didn’t know the answer, and the uncertainty frustrated him. He’d spent his entire existence sure of his path—no matter which path it happened to be—with no regrets and no indecision. He walked with his head held high and knew the steps to reach where he wished to go.

Now there were no steps, no path, and not even Valkyrie could see what Atlas’s future held. An omen for them all, one specific only to him? Death’s mare needed a manual.

“I’m not a prize, and I don’t belong to you,” Atlas hissed. “We’re not objects for you to collect like… like ornaments!”

Conquest begged to differ. He could do whatever he wanted with them both. Before he could let Atlas know just what it meant to let a Horseman touch him, a bolt of energy hit him square in the gut. He paused, turning his head as he focused.

Raziel abruptly sat up in bed, eyes wide, fists clenched in the sheets.

“You felt that?” Conquest asked, brows drawn in as he attempted to pinpoint where it had come from. He’d never felt the loss of his crown like he did in this moment, when it would have made a difference.

Raziel nodded, chest heaving. “It hurt,” he said, circling his stomach with his arms as if to protect himself. Somewhere deep down, his instincts knew that it meant danger. They’d only scratched the surface of Raziel’s untapped power.

“What is it?” Atlas asked. He rested his hand over the handle of the blade sitting on top of his set of drawers. He wouldn’t need that, and it wouldn’t be enough even if he did. He had no hope of fighting the players who had just entered the field.

“An Archangel has come to Earth,” Conquest said, lips curling. It had been too long since he’d spilled Uriel’s blood, and he looked forward to sharpening his blade on the remaining two. “Both of them. Well, well, well. I was wondering when they’d come to play.”

“Did you just say an Archangel ?”

“How do you know it’s both of them?” Raziel asked, unable to hide the spike of fear in his aura. Caused by Beings in Heaven that should have been an Angel’s ultimate protection. Their savior. Their hope .

Without Michael, a darkness had crept into the highest ranks of Heaven. What would the bleeding heart think when he returned to find his closest companions twisted beyond repair? Maybe that’s why he hadn’t. He knew what awaited him and was biding his time, hoping they would come out the other end whole. Would he welcome Raphael back into his arms after everything the redheaded Archangel had done since he’d lost him? The Archangel of Patience had run out of it awfully quickly when it had been personal.

“Too much power for just one of them.” Conquest gathered his armor and laid it over the side of the bed. “Did you know, baby Angel, when you first came to Earth, I thought you were one,” he mused. He slotted each section into place, fastening every clip and belt securely. “It angered me, how long it took to find you. Like you’d blinked out in a matter of seconds.”

“M-me?” Raziel stuttered. He leaned up on one elbow. “I don’t have that much power.” He frowned, thinking. “I was pushed. Maybe it was a reflection of—of—Uriel. He was the one who—?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Conquest said, leaning a knee on the bed and bending to caress Raziel’s cheek with his thumb. It didn’t surprise him Uriel had been the one to do it, the piece of shit. He’d risen to the ranks of Archangel too quickly after his run-in with War, and that rapid elevation changed how an Angel thought and behaved. The Archangel of Diligence was as cold and unfeeling as the wings he so coveted. A heart made of ice, a soul even colder still. “Only you came through the fog: you were the one that hit my radar.”

“It couldn’t have been me,” Raziel said helplessly, shaking his head. “I’m not… I didn’t even have my wings then…” He trailed off, biting his bottom lip. Conquest loved watching his Angel work things out, his clever mind visibly going through the facts. “Did—did Abaddon…?”

“Yes.” More than. The only thing stronger than Abaddon’s hate had been his Power. He’d been strong enough that he hadn’t even used it half the time, preferring to get more up close and personal with his kills, the sadistic fuck. “Darkness will always be stronger than light because they don’t limit themselves. He was more than a match for any Archangel stupid enough to take him on. If it’s true that you were made from him, then you have a lot more untapped potential than anyone upstairs could have imagined. He’s the only Demon that had a right to stand beside Diablo even if he was a fucking prick.” Understatement of the year. Conquest wasn’t afraid of him, but he couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction he got whenever he’d bested him. No better therapy than smashing that smug face into the ground.

Raziel absently played with a thread on the blanket. “I wish I knew more about him.”

“No, you don’t.” Not unless he wanted more nightmares.

“Who the fuck are we talking about?” Atlas asked. He perched himself on the opposite edge of the bed, right beside two of Raziel’s wings, stroking the feathers between two fingers. Conquest couldn’t fault him; he used every opportunity to touch them as well.

“Abaddon the Destroyer, the highest-ranking Demon for Diablo,” Conquest said. “Be very glad he is no longer alive. If he were, there would be no population left.”

“Sounds like a real charmer,” Atlas said dryly.

“No Demon ever created could match his depravity. He was Diablo’s right hand, with too much power and no soul. His only desire was to kill, and maim, and hear the screams of his victims.”

“That’s fucked up.” Atlas frowned. “Who is Diablo? Wait, you said was , past tense. If this ‘Abaddon’ was that bad, who killed him?”

“Me.” It hadn’t occurred to Conquest until right then that the creation of Raziel had stemmed from his own action. If he hadn’t murdered Abaddon during the Holy War, Raziel wouldn’t exist, nor would the events that had led them to this room, with this infuriating and devastating mortal.

He’d enjoyed killing Abaddon, enjoyed it more now knowing what he’d gotten out of it.

“He’s me,” Raziel said quietly, fists clenching into the cover, stretching it.

Atlas froze, fingers beneath Raziel’s feathers, against Raziel’s skin that Conquest knew was hot to the touch. “What?”

“I was created from him. When he died, God did something with him. Destroyed his very identity to create me. That… that horrible depravity, that was me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Conquest said. He took Raziel’s chin in his palm and forced him to look up. Pain and a strange loneliness lingered in his blue eyes. “Your soul is your own. I would know if pieces of Abaddon were in there.” Even without his crown, there would be no hiding it. “You have his strength, and you have his Power. But your actions, and who you are, they’re not the same as him.”

Raziel smiled sadly, and Conquest knew he didn’t believe it. Only time would heal that wound and solidify any certainty that he was his own person: an Angel with a heart of gold. Something that Abaddon could never have been. Whatever form his soul had taken as a mortal—Conquest didn’t care—it had been blackened beyond repair. And now he was gone. Good riddance. Raziel didn’t need to spend even a second of his time thinking about him.

“I saw him,” Raziel said, voice barely a whisper, like he was telling the story to himself, and they were eavesdropping bystanders. “I was him, when Uriel killed me. The things he was doing…” Raziel looked down at his trembling hands. Conquest held them steady, smoothing a thumb over the top. Raziel didn’t stop speaking. If he needed to get it out, Conquest would listen. “They were horrifying. Enjoying the screams, ripping flesh from bones. And I… I enjoyed it?”

“An illusion, Raziel.” He turned Raziel’s hand over, caressing his palm. “If I found you a mortal to play with right now, would you enjoy it?”

Raziel jerked in surprise, pulling his arms back against himself, his wings curling with them and away from both Conquest and Atlas.

“The fuck?” Atlas sputtered. “We’re not fucking toys!” He looked two seconds away from charging Conquest.

Conquest ignored the threat—if it could be called that—his eyes locked on Raziel. “I can find one for you. Say the word, and I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need. You can do whatever you want to it, if it makes you happy.”

“What the fuck ?” Atlas repeated. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Be quiet,” Conquest said firmly. Surprisingly, he obeyed, backing down as his gaze flitted between the two of them.

Raziel visibly swallowed, horror in every facet of his expression. He shook his head. “No, I—No.”

Conquest had known the answer even before he’d asked the question. As if his baby Angel could ever hurt something that wasn’t actively trying to kill him or someone he cared about. “You aren’t him. Being born from him is not the same thing.”

“We hold the same DNA, don’t we?” Raziel said stubbornly.

“DNA doesn’t work the same for us. It’s irrelevant. Your experience and history shape you more than what your blood says. Abaddon became who he was based on something in his past. And his proximity with Diablo. No one can be that close to him, for so long, and not become just as twisted as he is.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“It’s an ‘it doesn’t matter.’ You’re focusing on the wrong things.” Even when an Immortal put themselves in the Cycle, they came out different on the other end. Their personality, the parts that made them them , essentially wiped clean. There were certain markers that they kept, of course, but every Cycle they evolved and changed shape, based on their experiences. If their soul had darkened in the last Cycle, those pieces carried through, and it was likelier that they would have similar behavior. Even so, their experiences still influenced what shape that took. It wasn’t the same as resurrecting, where the memories would remain—without feeling attached to them. Re-Cycling meant that every past life disappeared in the wind. The idea of déjà vu, and the attachment to past lives, happened when a mortal—usually Angel-born—could somehow see some of it. Not enough to make sense of it, but enough to know that it existed.

“I wish that he were still alive.”

“Why?” Atlas asked, jaw dropping. “Conquest said there would be no humans left if he were walking around.”

“I know,” Raziel said. He wrung his hands together, a single tear falling down a cheek. “I know . But he has my memories and my past. I wish I knew more about him , not just the things that he did, or the people he hurt. Who was he? Why was he like that, what was his reasoning? Could I become like that? He knows more about me than I do. He has answers that I can never get anywhere else.”

“Reason and Abaddon don’t go hand in hand,” Conquest said with a derisive snort. The very idea was laughable. “There’s nothing he could tell you that would tell you anything about yourself. His memories are his own as are yours. Knowing his won’t complete the gaps in yours.” He placed a hand on the wall above Raziel’s head, crowding him until their lips were so close he could feel Raziel’s breath against his cheek. “You get to make new memories, ones that are yours , Raziel. Don’t spend time dwelling on a past you can’t change.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

Raziel kept ahold of Conquest as he turned to face Atlas, his smooth cheek brushing against Conquest’s beard. “Do you look at me differently now?” he asked, eyes shining bright from unshed tears. “Now that you know?”

“Why would I? You can’t control how you were made,” Atlas said. “I don’t fully understand what the fuck any of that means or anything about the world that you live in; however”—he leaned forward and kissed him, tongue peeking out as he licked across the softness of Raziel’s lips—“I’m more inclined to believe Conquest in this instance. I know you, and whoever that guy was, he doesn’t sound like you: he sounds like a psychotic mess.”

Accurate description.

Atlas lifted Raziel onto his lap, his black wings spread out across the bed. He cradled Raziel’s neck as they kissed, moaning when Raziel shifted and got comfortable.

Conquest placed a reluctant hand on Raziel’s nape. As much as he wanted to continue and fuck them both again, Atlas needed time to recover, and they had important business. “We have to go,” he said quietly.

Raziel took his time pulling away, going back in twice for more as if he couldn’t bear to stop. Finally, he stood and pulled his wings in, nodding resolutely. “We have to find out who it is, don’t we?”

Atlas leaned back, stretching his chest as he braced himself with his hands on the bed. He made a tempting vision, with half-lidded gaze and an obvious tent in his pants. Too tempting. The world wouldn’t wait for Conquest to get his fill.

“Archangels don’t come to Earth just to play with mortals,” Conquest said in response to Raziel’s question. “There’s always a purpose, and I guarantee we won’t like it. If it’s Uriel, I’ll make sure he doesn’t like it.” He had more than one score to settle. Uriel would pay for every hurt he’d inflicted on Raziel, tenfold.

“But he’s with War, isn’t he? You don’t think they’re still together?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to leave War somewhere to rot. Either way, they’ll have answers that we want. Death still can’t find War, and there’s no way God’s flock doesn’t know where their star pupil is.”

Raziel straightened his outfit, determination in the cut of his jaw. “Okay, I’m ready.” He faltered. “We need to get you back to safety first,” he said to Atlas.

Conquest had a better idea. He whistled, and a swirl of fog immediately opened beside the bed, like she’d been waiting for his call. Without Paul to play with, she likely had. Not much else to do in that place alone.

Victory trotted through, her white, braided mane eerily bright in the dark room. Conquest stepped back a pace, giving her room to fit her giant bulk in the small space.

Atlas scrambled backward on the bed in a panic. “What the fuck ?” He stared aghast at Victory. “You can’t have a horse in here.”

Victory snorted, flicking her tail. She sniffed the bed and then the sheets and then across to where Atlas couldn’t look away from her. Her upper lip curled, and she moved to get closer. Atlas flinched so hard he fell off the side of the bed, dragging the sheet with him and landing in an awkward tangle of limbs and fabric.

Atlas groaned and struggled to get to his knees, fighting the sheet wrapped around him. “Why is she so big? That’s not fuckin’ normal.”

“She has to carry me on her back,” Conquest said, amused at Atlas’s visceral reaction. This fearless mortal drew the line at large horses? “Do you need some help?”

“No,” Atlas said indignantly. He tugged at the part of the sheet wrapped around his calf, getting progressively angrier until he finally had it off. He jumped to his feet with a huff, a red flush over his cheeks, and his hair sticking up in a million different directions. He looked like he’d just been thoroughly fucked. Too bad that wasn’t the truth. “I’m fine. And your help is a trap.”

Conquest couldn’t deny that. “Victory is here to watch over you while Raziel and I are gone. She’ll keep you safe. Ride her back to base; no Demon will approach you while you ride her.” Conquest grinned wickedly. “And if they do, she’ll kill them.” Her vicious streak was one of the things he loved most about her.

“ She’ll kill them?” Atlas asked, squinting skeptically at her. “Is she gonna stomp them to death? I’ve seen what the enemy can do. How is a horse supposed to compete with that?”

Victory snorted, taking offense. Purple energy twined up and around her ears, and Conquest had to snuff it out himself so she didn’t kill Atlas with it just for daring to question her abilities.

“She’s the mare of a Horseman of the Apocalypse,” Conquest said. “She has more power in one strand of hair than you have in your entire body. There’s no one else you want by your side in a fight, trust me.”

“What, better than you?”

“No one is better than me.”

Atlas rolled his eyes. “How is she going to get outside? She can’t go down the stairs.”

“She’ll meet you at the entrance of the building. You’ll be safe with her, I promise.” Conquest would trust no one else, bar his brothers, to watch this man. He gave Atlas one more kiss until he almost took him back to bed. Forcing himself to pull back, he flicked his wrist and opened the fog. “Watch her, though, she bites.”

Conquest laughed as he stepped inside, Raziel at his heels. The last thing he saw was Atlas’s wide, horrified eyes.