"Arielle," I hiss, seriously shocked. "The actress," I add for no other reason except I'm flabbergasted. Even though my body hums with gratification and the strange intensity that built between us while we had sex, our predicament has me frantic. "Should I climb out the window?"
He drops a quick kiss on my mouth. Shakes his head.
"Give me just a moment, Arielle," he says, his voice raised. "I'm with another student."
"Yeah, you are," I say, grinning coyly up at him.
He squeezes one of my ass cheeks playfully. "Quiet," he says, kissing my chin.
"Ugh," Arielle sulks, clearly not used to having to wait.
Jesse slowly lowers my legs and adjusts my skirt. "Sorry about your underwear." He helps me step out of them and tosses them in the trash. "Are you okay?" he asks, pulling up his boxers and doing up his pants before tucking in his shirt.
When I'm alone, I'll debate my decision to break my most significant rule. Always use a condom. I'm an angel now, and I don't think I can get STDs, but pregnancy? That's a possibility. Shit.
"Mostly," I utter, my voice shaking. "You?" I reach up and fix his mussed blond hair, enjoying the sensation of it in my fingers.
He cups my face in his hands, looking at me like he can see into my soul. Then grabs some tissues off the top of one of the cabinets and hands them to me. "Never better," he says.
I clean up and toss away the tissues in the same bin. Fix my shirt and tuck it into my skirt. The edges brush against my ass, and it feels weird, but there's no helping it until I get back to my room.
Jesse clears his throat. "How should we work this?" he asks.
His scent is heady and makes my head swim, but I sense that the amazing moment is gone. "I don't know."
"We should keep what happened between us," he goes on, sounding once again like my grumpy angelic professor and nothing more.
I pick up my backpack. If he's going to act like this, then I'll focus on my own needs. "Where's the gem?" I lift a brow, daring him to ignore my question. I don't even care if he knows why I'm asking. The stone can't be under twenty-four-hour surveillance, and I will steal it and give it to Ellie.
Jesse sighs and drags his hands over his face. "You won't get away with it," he finally says, his eyes traveling along my body like he wants to fuck me again. "Whatever you're thinking. Stop. Besides, Fileze is no longer a problem, and you're safe in the Academy."
The angel is too damn smart and way too sexy for his own good. "How so? What did you do to him?"
Jesse rolls his shoulders back, frustrated with me. "Can't you just accept what I say without asking more damn questions?" He runs his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath.
"I guess," I say. But I can't help thinking about the others who worked for Fileze, like Rory and Colin. What will happen to them? "Tell me where the CeleStone is." I enunciate each word, wishing I could be relieved by the news about Fileze. Instead, I'm sick inside.
Not because of Fileze. He can rot in Hell for all I care. But it's freaky to know that Jesse has so much power. That he was able to take care of a supernatural as high up the food chain as Fileze without worry over repercussions.
"Tell me where it is, or I'll tell everyone what you did to me." As soon as I make the threat, I regret it. What he did to me was better than I've ever had. Hell, I want him to do it to me again. Annoyed, I lift my backpack and tug it onto my shoulders.
Jesse shakes his head and clenches his jaw tight.
It occurs to me that if he wanted to, he could destroy me. He's already said he has such authority. Except I still don't know if angels even have weaknesses. Even if he didn't kill me, he could have me incarcerated, and… what? I have no idea how angels are punished, but I'm sure it isn't good.
"I'll tell you," he says, his voice angry. "But you're going to regret it." A flash of sorrow crosses his beautiful eyes. Despite my lame threat and his fucking professionalism, his eyes can't lie. I know he liked what happened between us as much as I did.
"I want to know, Jesse. It's in the library, right?" I pop a hip, acting like I didn't just ask him to commit treason.
"The gem is in Michael's safe behind the Monet painting in his office. But don't even try to steal it. You'll get caught, and…" He takes my hand, kissing one of my knuckles.
In my heart, I want him to say he wants me to be safe. That he cares for me and wants to do more of what we just did. "What?" I ask, wishing I could snuff out all the damn hopefulness in my chest.
"I won't be able to save you, Mira. No one will." He releases my hand and turns away as though he's done with me.
Humiliation and anger race along my veins, but it's more than that too. Jesse challenged me. "I'm actually an excellent thief." I pause, wanting to hurt him the way I'm hurting. "And I won't regret stealing that stupid rock any more than what happened between us," I snap. The lie causes my eyes to sting. Swallowing down my grief, I head to the door, unlocking it. With my chin to my chest, I push some of my long hair over in front of my face. Open the door.
"Thanks, Professor," I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster. Scooting around Arielle fucking Knightly, I hurry away.
"Is she okay?" I hear Arielle ask.
"She'll be fine," Jesse says. "What can I do for you?" The door closes behind them.
Jealousy rips through my heart, and I grind my teeth. How can I like him? Want him? I don't want to admit it, but what Jesse and I shared moments ago means a lot.
When I'm halfway down the hall, I spot Michael's office. Above the door reads: Michael the Archangel. And I stop, studying it as a tingle of anticipation runs down my arms. I should shower and change my clothes before I do anything. I should be smart and make a plan. Not just walk into Michael's office. Whether I've lost my mind or am just too upset to care, I don't know. But I blow off all my training and go to the door.
I glance up and down the hall to verify it's empty. Then without giving myself a chance to think, I knock on the door. No one answers. So I check the knob. It twists easily in my fingers, and I push the door open. The office is bigger and more luxurious than Jesse's.
Where Jesse's office is cluttered and disorganized, Michael's is pristine and put together. The carpet is dove gray, and the walls are white. From the ceiling hangs a chandelier. There are windows all along the far wall. To the left is a shiny, ebony desk and chair. Behind that are build-ins. But the shelves hold no books. Only decorations. And between them is the Monet. It's the only painting in the room.
I shut the door and lock it. When it clicks, I can't help thinking about Jesse, but I push thoughts of him away. Let my backpack drop silently to the floor and then move toward the watercolor.
When I'm standing in front of it, I stop and can't help but admire it. The painting is of a bridge built over a lily pond. The painter's brushstrokes and coloring remind me of what it's like to dream. Around the artwork is a thick and ornate wooden frame. Carefully, I lift it off its hook and carefully place it on the floor.
As Jesse said, there is a metal safe, which is flush against the wall. The tingles are back. Within the safe is the stone. Somehow, I can feel it. On the right of the safe is a small keypad. Above it is what looks like a camera. I'm guessing it's a retina scanner.
"Damn," I whisper, studying the device like I can somehow solve the problem with my mind instead of safe cracking tools and Michael the archangel's eyeball. Regrets scurry along my veins.
Coming in here was a bad idea. I cross my arms, debating my next move, when the camera flicks on and an internal mechanism shifts. A red light appears and shines directly into my right eye.
"Hold still while I scan your retina for verification," the robotic voice says.
I know the scan isn't going to work, but I wait for it to finish. Because why the fuck not?
"Scan complete."
I release a breath and curse myself. Cracking this safe isn't going to be easy, and I need to reassess. Possibly reach out to a safe-cracking friend. In my impatience and determination to prove Jesse wrong, I made a bad decision. I shouldn't have come in here.
Ready to get the hell out, I lift the frame. But before I get the chance to return it to its position, another mechanism whirs to life, followed by a soft snap.
"Access granted," the voice says.
In the next moment, the safe door pops open.
What the ever-loving hell?
I return the painting to the ground, tug on the vault handle, carefully pulling back the door.
Within and gleaming brightly is the azure CeleStone. A zing of nervousness fills my chest. The last time I touched it, I became an angel. What will happen if I touch it again?
"How the hell did you manage that?"
The male voice is right behind me. I hear the shock in his tone.
I yelp at the sound of him so close, knocking my knuckles against the top of the safe, but I don't turn around. Doing so means I have to admit that once again, I fucking failed. This time though, there won't be any second chances. Jesse said he wouldn't be able to help. I'm screwed.
Do I have options? I glance sideways at the windows. I could make a run for it and fly away. I have wings now. That's a possibility.
"Turn around and let me see the face of the thief I will take pleasure in destroying."
I still don't move.
"Now," he commands. Authority radiates into me, and I have no choice but to do as he says.
When I'm facing him, my stomach turns queasy. The angel is massive. Taller even than Jesse with long blond hair and eyes the color of burnt orange. He's wearing a silver tunic with long sleeves and pants of the same color. An enormous set of burnt orange and black wings are on his back. They make me think of fire, and I cringe.
A couple of years ago, I met one of the fae leaders. He was vicious, and the experience had been terrifying. But this is worse. The angel in front of me is menacing.
"Sorry," I say, wrapping my arms around myself for protection.
His eyes become twin slits of blistering terror. "Somehow, I don't believe you." He steps forward. "I am Michael, leader of the angels. You will tell me all I want to know. Do you understand?"
As he speaks, I'm once again overtaken by a physical force, and I work to swallow down my panic. Open my mouth to agree. But before I say anything, I regain control over my thoughts and body.
"Actually, I'll be leaving now. My roommate will miss me if I don't get back." I step to the right and make for the door.
I don't get more than two steps before there's a whoosh of sound, and something cracks against the back of my head. My mind becomes an empty wasteland of desolation. Darkness permeates, and I'm falling.