Atlas, Part 1 (A Four Horsemen Companion Duet)

Chapter 15

Atlas spent a harrowing six hours attempting to coordinate the forces they had left. There weren’t nearly enough of them. Handfuls of men, too scattered. More states gone dark than ones still in communication with them. Had this attack spread wider? Had it been a last stand?

Other countries no longer answered their phone. He’d tried so hard to keep everyone alive, to save the world for Matty. And in the end, he’d somehow made it worse. They should never have left him in charge. Someone else would have been better. Anyone else.

He slipped out of the room where Conquest and Death were quietly speaking. Raziel hovered nearby, listening without contributing, merely staying close to Conquest. Atlas understood the urge, but he needed to be alone.

He had no doubt someone would follow him soon. If he could get a single moment to himself, then it would be worth the trouble.

He took his Kawasaki, miraculously still parked out the front of the building, and headed to a place he hadn’t visited for too long. He hadn’t set foot there after he’d buried Matty and said goodbye to a world that he no longer lived in.

The vast paddock, with rudimentary crosses as far as the eye could see, carried a heavy weight in the air. Easy to get lost in, impossible to find only one grave, like a needle in a haystack. Atlas found it anyway, the memory imprinted in his mind like a nightmare. He’d never felt worse than the day he’d laid Matty’s lifeless body into a hole, without even a coffin to bear the weight of the soil.

He stopped the bike, flicking the stand down before turning off the engine. After having ridden across the graves of so many. Appropriate. The living were the ones haunting this world now. The dead could rest easy; nothing hunted them in their eternal sleep.

He found the cross easily, Matty’s name written hastily in marker. Not all of Matty’s name was visible anymore. Didn’t matter. He knew what it said. Matthew Frederick Hendrick .

Some of his friends had called him “Freddy” because it always made him make a face, so unlike his usual sunny disposition. He knew how to laugh at himself. Atlas had never mastered that skill. He’d have punched anyone who tried it with him.

He crouched, spreading his hand over the soil, tufts of grass already peeking through and tickling his palm.

“I’m sorry,” he said brokenly, a single tear tracking down his cheek. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t save them. Matty, I promise I tried. I know you’re looking after them now. Succeeding where I failed.”

The wind shifted, and Atlas knew he wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t say a word as Raziel came up to stand beside him.

Raziel stood vigil, a silent guardian, giving him exactly what he needed. Atlas wished he didn’t need it so damn much.

Eventually, Atlas spoke, keeping his gaze locked on the grave marker, not trusting himself to look away. If he saw Raziel’s face, he would break, and he couldn’t afford to be anything less than whole. No matter how lost he felt, it wasn’t over yet.

“We stopped giving them proper burials after they came in the thousands. Even with so many missing, there were still so many bodies left behind.” Matty had been the last person he’d personally buried. They buried who they could and mourned those that would forever be missing. He would have moved Heaven and Earth to ensure that Matty didn’t become one of those casualties. He’d never gotten that chance.

“You didn’t fail; this isn’t your fault,” Raziel said quietly. “What’s happening here, it’s bigger than you. Than all of us. Even Conquest and his brothers are scrambling even if it doesn’t seem like it. What you did, how long you all held out… I don’t think anyone else could have done it.”

“They were there.” Atlas fisted his hand into the dirt. “Jeremy and the others. I sent them there to guard the building because… because I thought I was protecting them. Moving Jeremy out of Conquest’s reach. They’d been assigned to other places in the city before we’d gone on that mission. I barely even knew their names before that. Just numbers on a spreadsheet. And now they’re gone because of my orders.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“I did what was easier,” Atlas said. He tried to temper his tone, though he didn’t think he’d been all that successful. “To please Conquest. I put myself above their safety, and now they’re dead .”

“The building needed guarding, and they were good soldiers. None of what happened can be laid on your shoulders. You’re a good leader.”

“He would have been better.” Matty had been softhearted and saw the best in others, even when unwarranted, but he would have put more stock in people’s lives than where he got his dick wet.

Raziel moved and sat cross-legged beside him. He put a hand over Atlas’s, gently coaxing him to open it so he could flip it and trail his fingers over his palm, brushing the dirt away.

“He was your lover?” He peered at the cross. “Matthew. It’s a nice name.”

An inadequate way to describe him. “He was my best friend.” Atlas licked his dry lips. He threaded his fingers with Raziel’s, pausing his strokes. “He got me through the hardest parts of training, always ready with a smile and a stupid joke. I never understood why someone as kind as him enlisted. I guess for a lot of us, ‘choice’ isn’t part of it. Not for me, maybe not for him. He never visited his past, only ever wanted to look to the future.”

He finally turned to look at Raziel and his gorgeous kind face. So much like Matty and yet so completely different. Those vibrant blue eyes sucked Atlas in, made the craving deep inside him ache and beg to be fed.

“We weren’t together for very long. We were friends first, for a long time, before we…” He shrugged helplessly. “Something new, but the importance of our friendship is what mattered to me.” Even if they had never taken that step further, if Matty hadn’t given him that shy smile and asked him out on a date, he would still have been the most important person in his life.

And now he was gone. Because Atlas hadn’t been there to protect him.

Normally, people would have responded with platitudes. Not always false or insincere but never truly heartfelt either. It was simply what was done when met with grief. Words along the lines of “I’m sorry for your loss,” or something else asinine.

Raziel didn’t do that. Whether it was due to never having been human, or because he seemed to understand Atlas on a deeper level, Atlas didn’t know. The change in direction comforted him. Created a safe space around them, like a bubble that couldn’t be broken.

“Tell me about him?” Raziel asked.

Where to start? “He was everything that I’m not.” Nothing else to tell, not that mattered.

“In what way?”

“Kindness. He made a friend of everyone he met. Always had a kind word even if the recipient was being a dick. He was soft but not in a way that made him weak. He didn’t let the bad experiences get him down. So fucking strong, resilient.”

“And you don’t think you have those qualities?”

Atlas didn’t answer. He didn’t want Raziel to say meaningless, trite things to convince him that he did have those qualities. To trade falsities between them like some kind of pissing competition, where they tried to one-up each other about how much they cared. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he had similar qualities. It was the depth that mattered, and Matty had had a much larger capacity for those things, for caring, than Atlas ever would.

“Are your parents here?” Raziel asked.

The relief Atlas felt when Raziel changed the subject—Raziel surprising him again with his uncanny perception—staggered him. What would it feel like, to have someone like this love him? To have that unconditional affection? Matty could have, but Atlas had never let him. Maybe in time he would have, but they’d never gotten that chance. Never seen what their romantic connection could have turned into.

Guilt sat heavy in his gut, knowing that it had taken much less time for his connection with Conquest and Raziel to bypass what had built up between Matty and him over years. What a betrayal of everything they’d been through together.

“No, they aren’t here,” he said, eventually answering the question. Not exactly a pleasant subject switch but an easier one, at least. A simple answer. His parents were among the many missing. They’d lived in Florida, and there was no one left there. No one to search for them, to see if they numbered among the living or the dead. Recovering millions of bodies was impossible and not worth the effort when those left behind were struggling just to survive.

Raziel’s wings appeared, and three of them curled around Atlas, a warmth he so desperately needed. He ran his fingers over them, taking comfort from them. They were like silk, the softest thing he’d ever felt. Beautiful and elegant.

“Why is it you have six wings when others only have two?” He’d seen other Angels now, and none of them had more than two wings. Why were Raziel’s different?

“I don’t know. This is how they appeared when they manifested. I’m the only one in Heaven with six, and they’re the only ones that are black. They’re usually muted colors, attached to whichever Archangel we take after. I take after none of them, so I guess it makes sense they’re different.”

He said it like his differences were something negative. They weren’t.

Atlas twisted in the half cocoon so he could meet Raziel’s beautiful, bright-blue eyes. “They’re perfect.”

Raziel smiled and leaned forward, kissing him softly. He might have meant for it to be quick, but Atlas couldn’t let him go. He threaded his fingers in Raziel’s dark hair and kept him there as he deepened the kiss. He tried to pour into it how much he wished things were different. How much he wished they were all different and had met under different circumstances. Ones where he could keep them, where they could keep him.

He took every sound that Raziel gave him, every stroke of his tongue, every soft whisper of touch as fingers traveled over him, and let it be everything he needed. Raziel didn’t fight him, yielding completely and giving himself freely. He was so fucking perfect; how did Conquest ever let him out of his sight? How could Atlas ?

“Not long ago, I thought I’d lost Conquest,” Raziel said, their breath mingling, lips touching on every word. “Even after I healed him, I didn’t know if he would ever wake. Even Death said he was dying, that we could only wait and see. I thought my heart would break. I can’t imagine the reality of losing him, of never getting to see him again, or touch him. Even that single moment of thinking I’d never feel his touch again made me feel like I was dying too. I wish that I could take that pain from you.”

“It wasn’t—it’s not—” What he’d shared with Matty paled in comparison to the vibrant love that Raziel and Conquest shared. Matty’s importance to him, and the hole that would always be there, couldn’t begin to compare to the depth of their love. He hadn’t even understood that before, not until he’d met these two extraordinary Beings. When someone said they would burn down the world for their love, they meant it figuratively. An easy statement when they would never have to prove it.

There was nothing figurative about the way Conquest looked at Raziel, or the things he would do to keep his Angel safe. Things that would make lesser men squirm. Conquest would commit every sin for Raziel, and instead of turning Atlas’s stomach, it only made him want the Horseman more.

Conquest wasn’t hot air and bluster. His strength and capability made Atlas’s body burn. He put his money where his mouth was, every time.

Atlas kissed Raziel again, unable to find the words for his thoughts or his feelings. But this? He could do this. He could show him.

“We should go back,” Raziel said softly.

“Uh-huh.”

Their mouths met again, and Atlas dragged him closer.

Conquest found his gaze returning to the door every few seconds, unable to concentrate on Death’s conversation with the useless soldier left behind in Atlas’s wake. The moment he’d sensed Atlas leaving the room—did he really think Conquest wouldn’t know straightaway?—he’d sent Raziel to find and bring him back.

“Enough,” Conquest said, shutting the mortal up. “Go away.”

Atlas would have argued with him, possibly told him to go fuck himself, and continued speaking as though Conquest’s request were a mere annoyance. This person—Conquest had already forgotten his name, an inconsequential detail—scurried away with his tail between his legs.

Coward .

Conquest’s mortal was no coward.

Death gave him a look but didn’t make a remark, which was just as well because Conquest wouldn’t have hesitated to turn the anger on him too. If someone wanted to test him, he would wet his blade on them.

Where the fuck were Raziel and Atlas? Conquest had told Raziel to find the idiot, and return, not linger out there. Whatever Diablo was after, whatever his prize, every minute of the day he got closer. The attacks were proof that he was building up to something. They needed to shut him down before it got to that point.

It wouldn’t be long before only one mortal stood among the dead. And only because he held the mark of a Horseman of the Apocalypse. What happened after that? What plan did Diablo have?

Fog swirled beside Conquest, and Famine appeared, Paul held in his arms like a sleeping infant. He raised an eyebrow at Conquest’s expression. “Expecting someone else?”

“No,” Conquest growled. Raziel wouldn’t travel through that way, not with Atlas. It could kill him, even with a skilled traveler. Raziel’s confidence didn’t yet extend to taking someone through with him.

Famine and Death exchanged a look that Conquest pointedly ignored. They could both keep their thoughts to themselves and their mouths shut.

“War hasn’t returned yet?” Famine asked.

“Does it look like he’s here?” Conquest snapped irritably. War took up a lot of room; it’s not like he could hide in the corner without being noticed.

“Is there something you need to talk about, Con?” Famine idly stroked Paul’s large butt, hanging over his forearm. “Where’s Raziel?”

Conquest’s temper darkened. “Playing fetch.”

“Would your human be the ball, perhaps?”

“Smug isn’t a good look on you.” Conquest flung the maps away from himself in disgust. What did they need them for anymore? The battle no longer belonged to the mortals. They were close to extinction, and Conquest had bigger things to worry about. Like where Diablo was lurking and his ultimate plan. And finding out why God hadn’t shown his face before he’d come for Uriel and hadn’t been seen after that. Not to mention, what the hell his Archangels were looking for?

“You found an answer to my question, then,” Death said.

“No.” Maybe . He hadn’t decided yet.

“What question?” Famine asked curiously. Paul struggled in his arms, legs kicking out as his butt wiggled. Famine patted him, murmuring nothings. Eventually, the arachnid quieted.

“Nightmare,” Famine explained.

What the fuck did a spider have nightmares about? The bloody thing had been nothing but pampered its whole life. The only bad thing that had ever happened to it occurred during a single battle, when Raphael had ripped his legs off. Conquest couldn’t even blame the Archangel, considering that Paul had been attempting to cocoon him to be eaten. Raphael’s face had been covered in bruises, cuts, and puncture marks where Paul had bitten him while he struggled, injecting him with poison. Conquest would have ripped his legs off too. And fed them to him.

The mystery of why they hadn’t grown back went unanswered. Conquest didn’t give a fuck about it.

“This conversation is over,” he said firmly. Did they have nothing better to talk about?

“What happened in the fight?” Famine asked. “Something we need to know?”

“The one you conveniently weren’t at?”

“I had other business,” Famine said with a half shrug, the implied insult sliding off his back without offense. It only put Conquest’s back up more. He itched for a fight; why wouldn’t they give it to him? They knew exactly what he wanted.

“Is the Capitol Building still standing?”

“Death kept it safe. The Demons meant for it to be a final attack. Similar ones happened all around the world, with the biggest groups of survivors massacred. There aren’t many left. Barely a few thousand, if that.”

“Don’t you find it strange how quickly Lucifer’s forces were able to swarm the planet?” Famine mused. He sat in a chair, shifting Paul to drape over him, still sound asleep. “And that there’s no obvious reason for it? And how quickly they managed to decimate their numbers? Numbers that were in the billions.”

Conquest hadn’t until Famine mentioned it. If anyone knew the madman, it was Famine. Even now, when he was only a shadow of the one whom Famine had fallen in love with, they knew each other best. “When has reason ever been part of it?”

“He has reasons for everything he does. Sometimes the reason only makes sense to him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

A madman’s logic was still logic, in a way. Twisted beyond recognition but a form of it. “You don’t think it has something to do with Raziel and Abaddon?”

“It seems the most likely option except that he’s had numerous opportunities to come for him, and he hasn’t. Is he waiting for something?”

Just the thought of Diablo coming for Raziel severed the last of Conquest’s patience. “I’m going to find them,” he muttered, stalking out of the room without waiting for either of his brothers to say a fucking word. They’d been amusing themselves at his expense long enough.

Once out in the hallway, he opened the fog. Easy enough to follow the trail of an Angel-born, especially one so close; Atlas at least hadn’t left the base.

He stepped out into an open field, far from the buildings. Too open for Conquest’s liking. Was Atlas trying to get himself killed?

Conquest surveyed the area and the vast number of graves, basic wooden crosses, all sandwiched together. If something like this had happened when he and his brothers were generals in Purgatory, it would have taken them months to clean up the mess of the dead. Longer. Death would have needed help, a level of support no one could give him. He hunted the ones that were too far gone, the spirits that became twisted pieces of themselves, their souls beyond repair. Ripped from the world like this would have meant so many of them would be beyond help. This wasn’t anything like a human war. The new level of despair, and terror, meant savaging their very essence.

Where were they, now that they had no one to guide them? In Hell and spreading further. The dead had roamed free for a long time, a follow-on effect that God hadn’t cared about when he’d torn them from their home and made them Horsemen. He’d only cared about punishing, asserting his control.

He instantly found where Raziel and Atlas were, and why they’d been taking so long to return. Atlas sat on his bike, back resting against the handlebars. Raziel straddled him, Atlas’s feet planted firmly on the ground on either side, bracing them both. Atlas’s hands were buried deep in Raziel’s thick black hair, using the hold as leverage as they kissed like they would die if their mouths separated.

Conquest didn’t know how he felt about the two of them together while he wasn’t there. His cock certainly knew what it felt and how much it liked it, already hardening. Considering the sparks that flew between the two men, and that Conquest had all but given them permission, he shouldn’t be surprised that time alone had resulted in this. It wasn’t as though Raziel had been there the entire time that Conquest had been wrecking Atlas in the plaza. And Conquest most certainly wouldn’t ever stop himself from touching his Angel, whether Atlas was there or not.

There were no rules here, and Conquest hadn’t given any, not beyond “let someone touch you and I’ll kill them.” A rule Atlas had skirted too closely.

Atlas slid a hand into the back of Raziel’s pants, cupping his ass. He trailed his lips down Raziel’s throat, latching onto the skin at the curve where it met shoulder. Raziel gasped, panting, dropping his head back, throat working as he squirmed. He looked glorious, flushed and visibly aching for Atlas.

Conquest licked his bottom lip, his own cock demanding attention as he watched. How far would they go? Was Atlas going to fuck him right there on his bike? What little idiots. Did they have any idea how vulnerable they were out here?

Conquest crossed his arms over his chest and waited for them to notice him. He wasn’t impressed by how long it took.

Atlas tugged Raziel’s shirt up and over his head, the rest of his armor already conveniently lying in the grass nearby. And then they were kissing again, desperate, greedy kisses that tugged at Conquest’s gut. The ugly emotions were still there, curling and angry inside him, vines wrapping around the most sensitive parts of him that he wanted to tear out and light on fire. Over the top of it all, a stronger feeling pushed the ugly down. Something close to affection, closer to how Conquest felt about Raziel.

He didn’t want it, had more than enough trouble keeping his Angel safe. The constant worry that he wouldn’t be able to haunted him. To feel the same about a human ? Breakable, fragile, a twig in a roaring fire. Atlas’s vulnerability meant that it would be laughably easy to snuff out his life. Conquest could do it right now in the blink of an eye.

Atlas went for Raziel’s two belts next, crisscrossed and clasped around his waist. Raziel went for Atlas’s pants at the same time. Since he didn’t have a belt on, it was easier to flick the button and pull the zipper down.

If Conquest wished to do them harm, he’d have had his chance, multiple times in fact. What they were doing went beyond recklessness.

He summoned his glaive and twirled it in three perfect circles before burying the end into the ground, deep enough it stood on its own. His Power erupted around them, reaching high into the sky to create a wall of safety. It wouldn’t keep everything out, but it would certainly slow them down.

Raziel jerked away from Atlas in surprise, turning wide eyes on Conquest. He went to move off Atlas, and then stopped, frozen, when Conquest simply said, “No.” A bare whisper of a word.

The guilt on Raziel’s face wouldn’t do. There was no place for it here in this circle they had never wanted and had to deal with, regardless.

“I’m upset with you, Raziel,” Conquest said casually. “Do you know why?”

His Angel’s glance at Atlas was telling. Conquest’s feelings about the two men were his own to work through. The pleasure he got from seeing them together outweighed the rest, giving him more than enough to work with.

“You think it’s because you two were about to have sex without me?” he asked, to clarify. Best for them to be on the same page.

Raziel flinched in response, and Atlas stiffened, chin raising. His beautifully defiant mortal warrior. Conquest fucking adored him.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Atlas said, a hint of anger in his tone, deepening it. “Are we not allowed to touch each other now unless you’re there?”

Conquest didn’t answer. He left his glaive where it was, ensuring the wall wouldn’t lower. He approached them slowly, Raziel tracking his movements as he circled around the bike to stop at Atlas’s back. Their human might not have been looking at him, but the rigidity of his shoulders said that his awareness was completely focused on Conquest.

Conquest used his size and easily leaned over the handlebars to hold the back of his neck. He pressed lips to his ear. “You don’t have a weapon on you.” Not a rifle in sight. It meant he’d left on his own without a weapon. Had he planned to kill enemies with his sharp wit?

Atlas faltered at the unexpected words. “I have my combat knife.”

Yes, around his thigh. Under where Raziel sat. “Why don’t you get it for me?” Not a suggestion.

Conquest had his arm in an iron grip seconds after Atlas shifted for the knife, effectively trapping him before he could get close. “And now you’re dead.” Point made, he let go and stepped out of reach. They were easy pickings, so consumed by each other that the rest of the world—along with the immense dangers in it—had disappeared. They hadn’t noticed when Conquest joined them. If something had attacked, they wouldn’t have been given a chance to go for any of their measly weapons. Raziel wouldn’t have had time to get his wings out before being overwhelmed.

Atlas wrapped his hands around Raziel’s waist like he was going to lift him off. What did he think that would accomplish? Shutting the stable door after the horse had already bolted did nothing. They had Conquest’s protection now. Nothing would get to them unawares, which is how it should have been in the first place.

“Don’t stop now,” Conquest drawled, a hint of taunting in his tone. “Who doesn’t like a little danger with their outdoor fuck?”

Raziel’s lips pressed together, curved down. He knew what he’d done wrong now. Conquest might have felt bad for hurting his feelings if he hadn’t been so stupid. His safety meant more than a quick fuck, and Conquest needed them to fucking help him keep them safe.

Atlas glared. “There’s no one here.”

Wrong answer. “You and I both know how quickly that can change. Tell me, Atlas, when did I get here?”

Red spread across Atlas’s cheeks, shame written on his face. Good. They both needed to be more careful.

“You started this. Now finish it.” When neither of the men moved, Conquest arched an eyebrow. “Are you getting performance anxiety?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Atlas snarled, twisting his upper body to look at Conquest properly. “It really gets me hot when you scold us like naughty children, you piece of sh—” Conquest kissed him, cutting him off from a rant that would have forced Conquest to do something Atlas wouldn’t like. In fact, he should have thanked Conquest for saving him from that.

He lifted Atlas’s chin with a hand around his throat, pushing his thumb up underneath his jaw, deepening the kiss and taking whatever he wanted. Atlas met him stroke for stroke, anger sharpening his taste and making it all the sweeter when Conquest forced him to surrender.

He leaned down as he devoured Atlas’s mouth and finished Raziel’s earlier task, dragging Atlas’s briefs down enough for his cock to spring free. He fisted it, giving it a few hard pumps. It was still hard and leaking, despite Atlas’s outburst. Perhaps being scolded did turn him on. Conquest would endeavor to do it more often in the future.

He squeezed Atlas’s cock hard enough to border on painful. Atlas hissed into his mouth, exactly the response Conquest wanted. He licked Atlas’s bottom lip and dragged it between his teeth before lifting his head. “We’re going to take Raziel’s pants off, and then he’s going to ride your cock until you both come. None of us are leaving until you do.”

Heat flared in Atlas’s blue eyes, darkening in the way that made Conquest crazy with lust. “And you?” he asked hoarsely.

Conquest smiled lazily. “I’m going to enjoy the show.”

With that he lifted Raziel off the bike only long enough to strip him completely naked and then placed him back on Atlas’s lap. Raziel smiled at him, and Conquest kissed him until he was panting for air. They suited each other—the Angel and the Angel-born—so beautiful in the way they complemented each other. A blue sky and rain. The moon greeting the sun. Evening flowers blooming, craving the darkness instead of the light.

Raziel fisted Atlas’s dog tags, neither of them looking away.

“Catch,” Conquest said, throwing a one-time-use packet of lube to Atlas. Not the best quality and a limited quantity. It meant that Raziel would feel every inch of Atlas inside him. “Kiss him.”

Atlas cradled the back of Raziel’s head, fingers gliding into his black hair, obeying without argument. Raziel moaned eagerly, clinging to Atlas’s shoulders as he squirmed closer, knees locking against Atlas’s hips. He gasped as Atlas’s free hand disappeared, moving behind him, the destination clear.

Conquest shifted around the bike so that he had a front-row seat to Atlas’s finger slipping inside his Angel’s ass. Raziel pushed back, vocally asking for more without saying a word.

Conquest unclipped just enough of his armor to free his dick, leisurely stroking it as he did exactly what he’d said he would: enjoyed the show.

Raziel dropped his head forward onto Atlas’s chest with big gulping breaths, hands splayed across his skin. Together they painted a stunning picture. Conquest would never forget the sight of them, so in sync with each other that no one would ever know they’d been intimate less than a handful of times.

“We don’t have all day, Atlas.” Raziel could handle it without so much prep, and Conquest could only hold the barrier so long. Without his crown, his Power was finite.

Atlas added a second finger, glaring at Conquest as he did. “Are you watching or back-seat driving?”

Conquest didn’t know that term, but he got the gist of it. “I’m in control,” he corrected. “And you’ll do as I say. And I say he’s ready. Sit him on your cock. Now.”

Raziel whimpered, the muscles in his back moving as he rolled his hips in eager anticipation. His baby Angel was more than ready for it. All but gagging for it, in fact.

Conquest spread his legs apart, making himself comfortable. His cock twitched in his hand as Atlas lifted Raziel and lined himself up, Raziel reaching down and helping to hold his cock steady. As soon as the thick head pushed inside, Raziel forced himself down onto the rest of it without waiting.

“ Fuck ,” Atlas cursed, fingers digging into Raziel’s back and into the soft curve of his ass, keeping him in place. When he didn’t move quickly enough, Raziel wiggled his hips, and Atlas groaned.

“Fuck, wait, give me a second.” Atlas bit down on Raziel’s shoulder, flicking his tongue out to soothe the hurt. “You feel so fucking good, and I’m about to blow my load way too soon.”

“Is there a time expectancy for it?” Raziel asked, and Conquest could hear the cheek in his voice.

Determination crossed Atlas’s sculpted face, and then his knees bent, anchoring his boots to the ground. He lifted Raziel and thrust up as he tugged him back down. Raziel cried out, dog tags still clutched in his hand as Atlas did it again, and again, using him for his own pleasure. The sight of Atlas’s hard length sliding in and out of his Angel took Conquest close to the edge. He stroked himself a little harder, a little faster.

Raziel wrapped his arms around Atlas’s shoulders, bringing them even closer together, chests sliding against each other. He helped by pulling himself up as Atlas lowered and slamming down with a cry as Atlas thrust up. Their foreheads leaned together, and they held each other so tightly their knuckles whitened as they lost themselves in each other, finding their pleasure as one.

Conquest faltered, everything in him stilling. They were poetry, perfection in a single moment, that first brush of light as the sun rose. Conquest had seen the connection from the start, fought it for the very same reason. That tangible link between them had been too powerful: he couldn’t have kept them from it any more than he could have kept it from himself.

He didn’t feel threatened by it, not in the same way his jealousy still swirled inside him. He owned them. They belonged to him, and everything they felt for each other was his to harness and control.

Raziel’s hand reached out behind him, almost as if he could sense that Conquest needed him to do it. He clasped it without a word, allowing himself to be dragged closer. Raziel rested their tangled hands on his chest and leaned back, lifting his chin in silent demand.

Conquest tracked the tips of his fingers down Raziel’s back, caressing the soft muscles and gliding over the sheen of sweat from their exertion. He continued all the way down and then stuffed two fingers into Raziel’s already-stretched ass, right next to Atlas’s throbbing cock. Raziel’s eyes fluttered closed, mouth opening in a strangled gasp. Atlas leaned forward, reaching around to wrap a fist around Conquest’s dick.

Their eyes met as Conquest steadily fucked Raziel with his fingers while the Angel continued to bounce on Atlas, the three of them working in tandem. Conquest spat into Raziel’s open mouth and then kissed him, all the sweet sounds vibrating down his throat.

Atlas yelled loudly, mostly nonsensical words. He squeezed Conquest’s shaft, sending tendrils of lust spreading over him like electricity. His cock pulsed against Conquest’s fingers as he came, filling Raziel with his cum. Raziel stilled, moaning and erratically stroking his tongue against Conquest’s.

Conquest leaned Raziel forward so Atlas’s cock slipped out. He spread his fingers around the wet, silky length of him and made sure that he covered his hand in the cum-and-lube mixture. He gave himself a cursory stroke with it, getting himself sufficiently wet, spread his legs either side of the end of the bike, and then shoved himself into Raziel’s ass without warning.

Raziel screamed, fingers digging into the hard muscles of Atlas’s back. Conquest set a slow, steady pace. It didn’t last long—Conquest wasn’t much for a leisurely fuck—and soon he was thrusting hard, shoving Raziel forward and rattling the bike with every snap of his hips.

To lay claim or join them, Conquest didn’t know. He didn’t need to; his scent, his claim , already covered them. Every Immortal in existence would know.

“Our baby Angel needs to come, Atlas,” Conquest ground out, arousal thickening his voice. Satisfaction roared in him at the way Atlas’s blue eyes heated, his aura twisting and darkening until it was almost black. He fucked harder, a hint of pain in the constant whimpers from Raziel. Conquest might have stopped if it weren’t for the pure lust on Raziel’s face and the swirls of it in his aura. He looked like he was drunk on it.

“Jerk him,” Conquest managed to get out, feeling drunk himself. “Get him there for us.”

The second Atlas reached down, Raziel arched, pushing his hips into the contact. Conquest kissed across Raziel’s shoulder, biting and nibbling, tasting his salty sweat. How luscious he looked, wrecked between them, legs straddling Atlas and the bike. If he could, Conquest would have him looking like this every second of the day for the rest of eternity. Blissed out on their cocks, twenty-four seven.

“Come for us,” Conquest ordered in his ear, tonguing the curve of it. “Show us how good we make you feel, how much you get off on being used. Take me there too; let me feel you tighten around my cock.”

Raziel turned his head to the side, cheek to cheek, and then his whole body spasmed as his orgasm hit him. “Con,” he said shakily. “It’s—I can’t—”

“I know.” And he did. The feelings were too much, too big. And it didn’t matter, because it had gotten its claws into them, and they’d never be able to get them out. They had no choice but to ride it out, wherever that led. “You did good for us, baby Angel.”

“You?” Raziel asked weakly. Always thinking of others. Too sweet for his own good.

“Don’t worry, it’s my turn now.” He yanked Atlas forward into a kiss, not giving an inch, nor ceding even an ounce of control. Everything they did, everything they got—from him and each other—was because Conquest allowed it. If they forgot that fact, he would remind them of it.

Only when Atlas stopped fighting, yielding to him completely, did Conquest let himself go. He came so hard his knees buckled, and he leaned heavily against the two men. His cum mixed with Atlas’s inside Raziel’s ass as he thrust a few more times, pushing their seed nice and deep. Perhaps he’d get a toy for their Angel, use it to plug it all inside him for longer.

Atlas leaned back, panting. “That was—” He sighed, chest heaving. “Best.”

Conquest kissed Raziel’s cheek and pulled out of him, lifting him from Atlas at the same time. He stood him up beside the bike. Raziel wobbled but stayed upright, and Conquest felt confident enough to let go. He gathered Raziel’s clothes and handed them to him. “Go with Atlas and get cleaned up. Meet me in the map room afterward. No more detours.”

Raziel’s gaze softened with sadness. “Con, I’m sorry.”

“I want you safe.” He glanced at Atlas and couldn’t help saying, “Both of you.” A useless thing to deny, after everything. “Don’t take any more unnecessary risks. There are plenty of places you can fuck that aren’t this exposed.”

Raziel pursed his lips resolutely and nodded like a bobblehead. That would be enough of an agreement for now.

Conquest waited until Atlas had righted himself and Raziel was dressed and then kissed them both, switching between them until their lips were red and puffy. Atlas turned himself on the bike, hands gripping the handlebars. Raziel swung his legs over it and settled behind him with ease. Now there was a sexy picture.

He pulled his glaive from the ground, his wall of Power dropping immediately. “No detours,” he reminded them gruffly. Raziel smiled wide, and Atlas’s mouth curled up at the corners.

“What do you consider a detour?” Atlas asked. He took off before Conquest could respond, the loud engine rumbling in his wake.

Conquest watched them for a moment, making sure they were headed in the right direction. He went through the fog to a random shower in the city. He left himself wide open, almost hoping that something would attack him. He could use a little bloodshed.

Nothing did, unfortunately, and he made it back to Famine and Death before his men did.

Famine looked behind Conquest as he entered. “Couldn’t find your ball?”

“Worry about your own ball,” Conquest muttered. “Did you two do anything useful while I was gone?”

“Not really, but based on your wet hair, it looks like you did.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Famine didn’t have to answer; the look on his face said it all.

Raziel and Atlas returned a few minutes later, their own hair wet as well. Conquest’s gaze met Atlas’s before the general gave them all a wide berth and went to his own men, asking for updates.

Raziel came to Conquest’s side like they were magnets being pulled to one another. He slid into Conquest’s arms, a perfect fit, and gave him a toothy smile. Conquest kissed the top of his head. “Unharmed?” he asked. They hadn’t been going far, but the Demons were strengthening and attacking more frequently now, no longer hesitant just because the Horsemen of the Apocalypse were on the board.

“We didn’t see anything.”

“They’re regrouping,” Famine murmured, sounding sure. “Lucifer didn’t get what he wanted.”

Neither Raziel nor Famine had fallen into his clutches. There couldn’t be another reason. If there was, they were all in trouble; a sane Diablo held far more danger than a mad one.

Death lifted his head, hood twisting toward the door. “War has returned,” he said. “And he’s brought a guest. Two, in fact.” His solid white eyes flitted down to the maps strewn over the table. “I’ll greet them.”

“Guests? Are we supposed to be hosts now?” Conquest looked to Famine, who shrugged with his mouth and shook his head.

The first aura that Conquest filtered out smelled distinctly like Demon. A specific Demon. A Fallen Angel. Curious. The other… small, feral… not human. What had War brought to them?

War burst through the door with Azael slung over his shoulder. He dropped him unceremoniously on the floor at Conquest’s feet.

Conquest blinked. “Present?” he asked mildly.

He wasn’t expecting the fucking three-legged Hellhound pup that bound in after him. She tumbled over her giant feet and rolled, somehow finding her way into a seated position. Pure dumb luck rather than any skill. Her tongue hung out the side of her mouth as she stared at all those staring back at her. If Conquest didn’t know better, he would say she was smiling at them, soaking up the attention.

“Is that a three-legged baby Hellhound?” Famine asked curiously. “Where did you even get it? Those are pretty coveted.”

Hellhounds were more than merely “coveted.” Hades, one of Diablo’s high-level Demons, bred them and was more than a little protective of them. To have one of them not only with a severed limb, but roaming without an escort? Unheard of. Would the big lumberjack of a Demon come looking for it?

Raziel’s eyes lit up, the light blue all but sparkling as he looked at their newest arrival. Conquest readied his speech for when he would have to tell Raziel “no” to getting one for themselves. Not only could he not find one—where the fuck had War gotten one in the first place?—but Conquest had no interest in having another Being around to have to keep safe. He had his hands full already with Raziel and Atlas. He hadn’t thought that anyone could find more trouble than his Angel; he’d been wrong.

“She’s adorable!” Raziel said excitedly. “What’s her name?”

“Doesn’t have one,” War said before Conquest could scoff at the idea of naming it. “And she’s not getting one because she’s going back.”

Going back where exactly? Conquest would need to corner him later and ask. Who the fuck had thought it was a good idea to steal from Hades and Lucifer? Never mind. He worked it out as quickly as the question came to him. Amii. His desire for prized objects would have outweighed his common sense, not that he had much of that in the first place.

Paul wriggled out of Famine’s arms and eyed the Hellhound, all eight eyes blinking out of sync. The Hellhound didn’t break the stare, her tail wagging with hesitant swings.

War eyed Paul suspiciously. “Be nice,” he told him.

Not keeping her, Conquest’s ass. The protectiveness had already kicked in. He knew the feeling well. War wasn’t letting it go any more than Conquest could let Atlas go.

Paul moved slowly, his six legs careful as he crouched low. The Hellhound tilted her head, dripping saliva on the floor. Admirable patience, though not unusual. Even at that young an age, Hades would have been training her. They were lethal at eight weeks old.

Raziel vibrated with excitement, and Conquest laid a hand on the nape of his neck, ready to grab him if he went to dart forward. That small tail could do more damage than it seemed, and he wouldn’t have Raziel hurt just because he wanted to pet the damn thing.

He kept one eye on Azael at the same time, ready to kick him through the wall if he dared to move. The Fallen Angel seemed content to lay on the floor during the ruckus; that could change in an instant, and Conquest would be ready if it did.

Atlas kept a table between him and them, watching warily, with a hand hovering over his hip, near the gun clipped there. Armed now, at least. Conquest lifted a hand and lowered it in a gesture of “no, put it down.” Atlas hesitated, closed his eyes briefly like he was fighting with himself, and then rested his hands back on the table. Still tense, but less likely to shoot first and ask questions later.

Paul lifted a front leg and reached out to the Hellhound with a measured movement. War tensed, which made Conquest tense, and Raziel did the same against him, like a fucked-up game of dominoes. Raziel turned a questioning gaze to him. Conquest shook his head imperceptibly. He wasn’t to interfere if something happened. He and War would sort it out.

Paul jumped, wrapping all his legs around the pup’s body, and they burst into action.

“Hey! She’s not food!” War snapped. He stopped at the same time as Conquest, both noticing the same thing.

Paul wasn’t trying to eat her; he was hugging her. He had his head buried in the fur at her neck, and she licked where she could reach, bathing the spider with her raspy tongue.

“Well… that’s unexpected,” Atlas said. His face was twisted in a grimace, with a wrinkling nose and lines forming across his forehead. “I don’t know whether to be horrified or not.”

Door number one.

“Whatever. Back to more important issues,” War said. He kicked Azael in the back of the head, and he stirred in annoyance, glaring. “Make the pet parrot talk, Con. He needs to tell us what Diablo is doing, and why he’s attacking the mortals.”

“Piss off,” Azael snarled.

So impolite. Conquest hauled him up and shoved him against the nearest wall, dangling him off his feet. He pushed his purple energy out, using it to wrap around the Fallen Angel and keep him in place so that he could step back. He’d need both hands for this. He looked forward to it; it had been too long since he’d gotten the chance to torture someone properly.

Raziel sighed, looking away. “Do we have to stoop to their level?”

“Live a little, Raz,” War said, grinning mischievously. “Trust me, this is nothing compared to what this blue-eyed devil in disguise has done in his lifetime.” He shared a look with Conquest, who smirked.

Conquest refused to feel guilty about roughing Azael up, or what he planned to do to him. Raziel would be horrified to know just what kind of pain the asshole had inflicted. He hadn’t fallen for no reason. Conquest could admit to doing some heinous things during his existence; he had nothing on this Fallen Angel. Small and mouthy and only half as good as the others in Diablo’s immediate circle, he still packed a punch, and his depravity knew no bounds.

“Do whatever you want,” Azael said. “I won’t talk.”

He would, when Conquest finished with him. He fingered the bump that circled Azael’s neck, where the skin had grown over something. War’s handiwork, no doubt. It wouldn’t do to let it stay there. He dug his fingers through the flesh, fingers ripping through skin to grip what felt like rope. Azael screamed in pain, the high-pitched sound echoing in the still room. “Crude, War.”

Conquest wanted to turn around and see Atlas’s face. What did he think of this display of violence? Would he condone it? Or act mortal about it? Those were chains he would have to throw away if he were to stand next to a Horseman.

“I had limited time,” War said dismissively. “He doesn’t need the ropes to hold him anymore.”

“No?” Conquest pulled a little, experimenting and enjoying the way it made Azael scream louder. “Good.” He would have prolonged it if they had more time.

“Fuck. You,” Azael said, gritting his teeth through the pain.

Hmm. No, not the answer Conquest was looking for.

He tugged the rope completely free, opening the wound that spanned Azael’s throat. Blood freely poured from it, soaking Azael’s armor and dripping on the floor.

“Someone better be cleaning that up,” Atlas muttered. “How is he still alive?” The irritation in his tone held hints of something else… underlying darkness and seduction. Was Atlas getting turned on watching Conquest hurt someone? Fucking hell, he wished he had time to explore that.

“Immortals,” Famine answered. He stepped up to Conquest’s shoulder and eyed the Fallen Angel. “Azael, it really is in your best interests to simply tell us what we need to know.”

Conquest turned his head, Raziel and Atlas in his sight. The two men had gravitated toward each other. Needing to be close even if they weren’t touching. They were a striking pair, blue eyes locked onto his, Raziel with his dark hair and soft features, and Atlas with his own dark hair and angled features. They were nothing alike and yet somehow so similar. Two sides of the same coin.

His attention returned to their quarry when Azael laughed thickly, choking on his own blood. “It will be too late by the time you work it out. For all of you.”

“Diablo wouldn’t hurt Famine,” War said.

Conquest wasn’t sure that he agreed. Diablo would never injure Famine. Hurting him? Another matter entirely. The two of them had been hurting each other for more than an age.

“You’d be surprised what he would do,” Azael sneered. He spat blood onto the floor, close to where War stood. War’s face twitched like he wanted to ram his fist into Azael’s face, give him some more wounds to bleed from. Conquest could help with that.

“This has nothing to do with the Horsemen,” Death said quietly. He lifted an arm, opening his palm. A single wisp circled it, black smoke that shimmered and moved through Death’s hand every few circles. “Diablo has an agenda, Azael.” He flicked his fingers, and the smoke flew across the room, hovering around the open wound on Azael’s throat. It hadn’t closed yet; the damage from War’s flames would take more time to heal. If Death’s Power touched it, it would take even longer. “Tell us what it is.”

Whatever bravado Azael had left disappeared in an instant. A terror-induced cry fell from his lips, and he tried to flatten himself against the wall. A pathetic attempt to move as far from Death’s wisp as he could. No one could outrun Death.

“All right, all right,” Azael said desperately. “Just—get that away from me.”

Death didn’t. Instead, the temperature in the room dropped until they could see their breath, and ice formed around the windows.

“What the fuck ?” Atlas burst out, teeth chattering. “Please tell me this is temp-p-porary.” He grabbed his camouflage before Conquest could move to him, shrugging it on and covering up his arms. He rubbed his hands and blew on them, and Conquest couldn’t look away. He wanted to take those fingers into his mouth, warm them himself and do something else entirely to keep Atlas’s mind off the cold.

Raziel curled his wings around himself, and Conquest’s carnal thoughts shifted to him for the exact same reasons. The things he could do to keep them both warm.

War grinned, unbothered by the cold. The only one—besides Death—who didn’t feel it. He had a much higher core temperature.

“The attack on the Mortal Dimension is meant to be bait,” Azael answered.

“For what?” Famine asked, frowning.

War stepped back and leaned against the map desk, crossing his ankles and getting comfortable. “Bait’s usually kept alive.”

“He did keep some of them alive!”

“We’re not fucking cattle!” Atlas snarled. He lunged forward, and War grabbed his shirt, shoving him back while keeping ahold of him.

Conquest’s Power pulsed around his hands and up his arms. If War didn’t take his hands off Atlas in the next five seconds, they were going to have a problem.

“Sit down,” War said, no idea just how close he’d been to tangling with his own brother. “The adults are talking.”

“You can fuck right off, War . What the fuck do you know about watching your entire race being massacred like so much goddamn meat?” Atlas tugged out of War’s hold, but he didn’t go far, glaring up at the giant warrior who was as big as Conquest and who wouldn’t hesitate to take off Atlas’s head. Conquest prepared himself for one hell of a fight if War chose violence.

War smirked and backed off, eyes twinkling.

Conquest didn’t relax. There were many things that people didn’t understand about War, the most dangerous being that he never showed his cards, even when he seemed completely transparent. A deliberate tactic from the master strategist.

“Bait for what?” Famine asked again. “He’s gone to a lot of trouble to do this kind of damage. He didn’t do it for pleasure alone.”

Of them all, Famine would be the one who knew Diablo’s mind best. Especially when it came to pleasure.

An alarm rang out from one of the nearby computers, the same one that had signaled more than once during their time here. Uninvited guests inside the walls. The day for it, apparently. They should be good hosts and greet them.

“The perimeter of the building is being surrounded,” Atlas said. He checked the nearest computer, sitting down as he typed. “All the patrols guarding it are gone. Fuck.” He slammed a fist on the desk. “ Fuck .”

Not just inside the walls, then.

Azael laughed, the sound grating. Conquest punched him to shut him up. His skull cracked with a delicious crunch , blood dripping from his temple and down his cheeks.

“Raz, Atlas, and I will clear the area.” War pointed at Azael even as he moved toward the door. “Get what we need.”

“With pleasure,” Conquest murmured, summoning his glaive. He sliced neatly across Azael’s stomach. Azael shrieked, squirming, muscles shuddering as he attempted to get away.

“C’mon now, Az, don’t be so dramatic.” It was barely a scratch: the cut hadn’t done any real damage. Not yet. “Tell me what the bait’s for.”

“I don’t know! I was just told to rally the Demons and give them free rein.”

Conquest hummed thoughtfully. He buried the wooden end of his glaive straight through Azael’s stomach. Blood dribbled down Azael’s chin. He licked it off and still managed to get out, “That the best you got?”

“I think he’s telling the truth,” Death mused.

Conquest had worried that would be the case. It was too much to hope that Diablo had slipped and told his weakest link. “Has to be you,” he said to Famine, “or Raziel.”

“Perhaps.”

“Is that wishful thinking?” Conquest asked dryly.

“It’s knowing that sometimes Lucifer’s motives are unclear, even when they seem obvious. He hides by showing himself in plain sight.”

Conquest sighed. He pulled the glaive out and then punched Azael in the face, knocking him out. Guess they needed to find someone more useful.