The Hotel BelAyre is swank, decorated in various shades of gold, white, black, and green. Lush plants are placed perfectly throughout the lobby, and an enormous chandelier hangs from the center of the sitting area. The air is fresh and smells of lemon and vanilla.
Now I understand why Fileze wanted me to dress fancy. Had I come in my jeans and a tee-shirt, I would've stood out like an ostrich in a room full of penguins.
As it is, I still feel out of place. But I push my shoulders back, lift my chin, and head to the elevator.
"Excuse me. Can I help you?"
I turn to see the woman at the front desk staring me down. I swallow. Damn. What if my mark—Jesse didn't tell this woman I was coming?
Damn. Damn. Damn.
The night will be ruined before it gets started, and I'll still be Fileze the sleaze's bitch.
Ugh.
Realizing there's nothing else to do, I decide to tell the truth. "I'm meeting Jesse in room thirteen twenty-three. He's expecting me," I purr, batting my eyelashes.
She taps a few keys on her keyboard, studying the screen like it holds the secrets to the Universe.
"Did you want a DNA sample? Should I pee in a cup? What do you want from me, lady?" I ask, hoping I sound arrogant and bitchy enough.
She shrugs apologetically. "Sorry. Go ahead."
I finish my walk to the elevator and push the button. It pings, and the door slides open. Inside, I'm greeted by a bellman.
"What floor?" he asks, trying not to look at me but doing a terrible job.
"Thirteen." I give him a bright smile.
His eyes get big as he drinks me in, spending extra time on my bare thighs.
While it's true, I have great legs; I also don't want to be late. I reach around him and push thirteen. "I haven't got all day, dude."
He clears his throat. "Right."
The elevator stops when we reach the thirteenth floor, and the door slides open.
"Which way to room thirteen-twenty-three?" I smile again, showing off my pearly whites.
"There are only two suites on this floor. The one you want is to your left."
Adjusting my dress, I thank him and head down the hall.
Before I knock, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and tell myself, whatever happens tonight, it'll be worth it to be out from under Fileze.
I knock.
On the other side, there is a rustling. The deadbolt releases, and the door opens.
Holy shit!
Those are the only words my brain can supply. He's not what I expected.
Jesse is shirtless and with good reason. Broad shoulders. Chiseled abs for days. A trim waist and carved hips. His body is glistening with sweat like he's been working out. He's wearing bike shorts that show off everything, as well as socks and tennis shoes.
A flicker of irritation crosses his features as he peruses my body. "Can I help you?"
I glance at the bellman nervously.
He's standing there, watching, curiosity on his pasty face.
"Yes," I say and smile. Then lean in. "I'm here at your request, Jesse. May I come in?" I ask in a whisper.
Even sweaty, he smells like a combination of cologne and something else.
I watch an assortment of emotions change his ruggedly beautiful face. Thick, dark-blond lashes frame eyes. They are the striking hues of early morning light, a combination of silver with flecks of gold and blue. Some of his disheveled, blond hair sticks with sweat. I fight the urge to brush it off his gorgeous face.
His succulent lips turn up slightly. "Of course," he says, holding open the door.
Then he nods to the bellhop. "I'll catch you later, Devin."
"Thank you, sir."
Devin called him sir, but Jesse doesn't look much older than my eighteen years, and I'm curious about how he can afford such a place.
"Come in," Jesse says, moving out of the way.
"Thank you." I step across the threshold, and it's like I've entered another dimension. Every inch of the place looks fresh and expensive. I wait off to the side, allowing him to take the lead.
He shuts the door, and I see the twin slits along the upper portion of his naked back.
"You're an angel," I blurt and then pinch my lips together.
No! I'd rather be anywhere else, despite his hotness.
Murderer, I think, as hate blocks the breath in my throat.
Fileze knows how I feel about angels, and that's why he sent me. He could've chosen one of a dozen other people on his team to deal with this mark. But no, this is his idea of torture, and he isn't wrong. Damn!
I glance at the door, debating my options.
Can I do this?
"Guilty," Jesse says, his eyes shining with mischief as his enormous golden wings extend out behind him.
"Wow," I say, unable to help myself. The tips of the feathers are the same as his eyes, a combination of soft silver with hints of blue and gold.
He's magnificent, I think, and then check myself. Angels are devils in disguise.
He smiles as his wings shake slightly before they vanish. "Listen," he says. "I didn't want to embarrass you in front of Devin. He's a good kid but a blabbermouth. Still, I'm going to need you to tell me what you're doing here."
He gives me an easy smile, which takes my breath away.
Stop it, I shout internally at myself. He is the enemy.
Fallen City is set up like a dartboard. At the very center or at the bull's eye stands the Nephilim Academy. All around the school are massive and glorious buildings and angel dwellings, the likes of which don't exist beyond the gilded one-hundred-foot wall—not that I've ever been inside.
I only know what I've seen on the news or in holographic images. Degenerates like me live outside the wall in the shadow of the angelic center. Our broken-down structures, houses, apartment buildings, and warehouses make up the more significant portion of the city, but one wouldn't know it by what's shared around the world.
We are the forgotten—just the angel's halo—our land not even a perfect circle but jagged and lopsided. Witches control the most ground while fae leaders run the smallest. The werewolves and vampire sections are relatively equal.
"Are you alright?" Jesse steps forward, and I catch his scent again, a heady combination of possibly pineapple and bergamot.
"Fine," I say, pressing myself against the wall. I can't get over how gorgeous he is. My knees weaken of their own volition, and I curse myself.
Gorgeous sure as hell doesn't mean good. He's probably a total deviant with a penchant for the perverse. I grit my teeth together. I hate angels, but I hate Fileze even more. Still, I'm a damn good thief. I can use my looks to flirt and do whatever it takes to get out from under Fileze and become my own boss.
"Everything is taken care of," I say, trying to sound casual, but I can't look at him. Instead, I take in the suite, searching for the location of a safe. "My only rule is you must always wear a condom," I add, my eyes landing on a box sitting alone atop the glass coffee table. No way, I want to spawn a nephilim. Dare I hope he has the jewel out in the open?
"I see," he says, his sensuous lips twitching like he wants to laugh. But it's his eyes. The way he's looking at me like I'm a new and exotic bird that makes me nervous.
"Is that acceptable?" I lock in on his gaze. Hold my breath, waiting. Forcing myself to believe my freedom is worth being with him in the biblical sense if it comes to that.
Jesse eyes me as though he has no idea what I'm talking about but recovers quickly.
"Works for me. Do you mind if I shower first, um, what's your name?" he asks, heading into the living area.
When I started in the outlaw business, I debated going by different names for different jobs. Sometimes I do. Whatever name comes to mind. But when Jesse asks, the only one I can utter is my own.
"Mira," I blurt and catch myself blushing as I follow him deeper into the gigantic suite. The fucking living area is twice the size of mine and Ellie's apartment. If I could kick myself, I would.
He touches my arm, sending tingles all up and down my skin. Even with my seven-inch heels on, he's still much taller than me.
I glance up. "You are Jesse, right?" He seems way too nice to be an angel. If I hadn't seen his wings for myself, I wouldn't have believed.