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“I want to. I’ve seen a lot of psychics looking for proof, but sadly, so far, nothing,” Rayne admits, her voice tinged with a mix of skepticism and hope. It's a response that catches me off guard—she's been seeking, searching for something beyond the ordinary.
“Well, today you’re in luck.” Aleah’s voice holds a tinge of pride. “All four of us are supernatural beings, though we prefer the term celestial.” Her matter-of-factness stands in stark contrast to the way I've lived—hiding, masking. Her open nature throws me off balance, making me reconsider my own walls. The men beside her nod, their silence and deference to Aleah clear. It's a dynamic foreign to me, a reminder of a world I'm only beginning to comprehend.
Rayne's gaze shifts to the angels, her directness cutting through the air. “Can they talk?” she asks before being captivated by the angelic grace swirling around them. I'm struck by her blunt curiosity, so different from the cautious approach I would have taken.
Tristan’s response, light and almost flirtatious, feels incongruent with the gravity of the revelation. “Hi there, I’m Tristan. Want to see my wings?” His approach doesn't faze Rayne; she's absorbed by the magic, not the man. It's a trait I find unexpectedly admirable.
“Maybe,” Rayne says, still fixated on the grace. Her sudden shift to more pointed curiosity is intriguing. “Wait. Did you say you have wings?”
Tristan nods, playful yet earnest. “Indeed, I did. My offer still stands.”
Troy cuts in, his voice booming yet melodious. “Cool it, Tris,” he says. “Give the woman time to adjust.”
Watching Rayne, I'm caught off guard by her unguarded reactions. She’s delving into a world that would intimidate most, yet she does so with a rawness, an openness that's both refreshing and unsettling. It's a stark reminder of the barriers I've erected around myself, of the emotional detachment I've always viewed as necessary. Her bravery in the face of the unknown tugs at something deep within me, something I've long suppressed under layers of control and self-preservation.
Her willingness to delve into this newfound reality, to embrace what many would dismiss as fantasy, strikes a chord within me. My own initiation into the celestial realm wasn't a choice but a forceful thrust into a hidden world. And here she is, stepping into it with an open mind, a thirst for understanding that’s both admirable and unnerving.
As I observe her, wrestling with the tangible reality of the supernatural, I can't help but feel an unexpected connection. Her path into this unearthly world mirrors my own tumultuous journey, yet she treads with a hunger for understanding I never had the chance to explore. This stark contrast between her openness and my inherent reserve draws me towards her, compelling in a way I can’t quite articulate.
Rayne recoils slightly, a visible reaction to the angels’ presence. “Oh my God. This is so happening. It’s like my dream.” Her eyes narrow as they find mine. “Jaden, is this a dream or proof that the supernatural exists?” Her direct approach, seeking clarity without pretense, impresses me. It's then I feel that undeniable surge again, a primal acknowledgment from within. She’s ours.
Aleah and her partners turn their attention to me, seemingly passing the narrative baton. I hold Rayne's gaze, ensuring she understands the gravity of my words. “You’re not dreaming. Aleah is a Nephilim, half angel.” I gesture towards each of her mates. “Cassiel, Atroyel, and Tristan are angels.” My voice trails off as I hesitate to speak of my own celestial nature, an admission that feels like standing at the edge of a vast chasm.
Aleah, perceptive as ever, fills the silence. “Jaden is being modest,” she says, earning a sharp glance from me. But she doesn’t falter. “He's an angel too, but of a different kind. My mates are blood angels from another realm. Jaden, however, was human, bestowed with the powers of an avenging and guardian angel.”
Her words hang in the air, adding a new layer to my identity, one I'm still reconciling with. I raise an eyebrow, a silent acknowledgment of this revelation, yet choosing to remain mute. This new aspect of my being – a guardian angel – it's a mantle I'm still learning to wear.
“And your knowing simplifies our next steps. You, Rayne, are believed to be one of the last Luminaras, a lineage of white witches of ancient and rare origin. There are forces of darkness seeking to extinguish your power, forces tied to the sex trafficking ring we're dismantling,” Aleah explains, her words carrying the weight of centuries.
“We’ll provide a brief overview now, but uncovering the depths of your power is a journey you must embark on yourself. Jaden here,” she nods in my direction, “is inexplicably linked to this path. And there are certain non-negotiables moving forward,” Aleah continues, her gaze fixed on Rayne.
Without hesitation, Rayne asks, “And they are?”
“First, Jaden will be your constant companion. Consider him your guardian angel.” Aleah glances at me, a silent challenge in her eyes. I remain silent, my thoughts a turbulent sea, unsure of what words, if any, would suffice in this moment.
Rayne's gaze locks onto mine, assessing, calculating. There's a deliberation in her eyes, a weighing of realities that I find both vexing and enthralling.
“Is he in charge of me?” Rayne's question catches me off guard, and a laugh nearly escapes me. Her unpredictability is both a puzzle and an allure. She’s ours. The power within me surges, acknowledging a connection I'm still grappling to comprehend.
Aleah's response is blunt. “Only in matters of your protection. In those instances, Jaden holds veto power, and he'll answer to the gods if he fucks up.” Her casual use of profanity punctuates the seriousness of her statement.
Rayne processes this, a hint of acceptance in her tone. “I can work with that. What else?”
“Your sister will stay at Harmony Hills for the duration of our operation. You'll reside in one of our secure apartments.” Aleah lifts a finger, and the papers float towards Rayne. “You’ll find the terms of your employment more than favorable—a generous salary, accommodations, and provisions for severance if you decide to leave post-contract.”
With another gesture, Aleah summons a leather briefcase through the air, no doubt showing off her magic. “Your immediate priority is the training program. It will be the key to unlocking your power. Inside this briefcase, you’ll find everything to get started, including your new computer and phone.”
As I observe this exchange, a sense of duty mingles with a nascent, inexplicable bond. Rayne, a woman of mystery and strength, is now my charge, my responsibility. The depth of this new connection, this uncharted territory, both daunts and intrigues me.
Rayne maintains her composure, her expression revealing only a flicker of surprise. Her next question is pointed. “Are you considered powerful among Nephilim?”
Aleah responds with a hint of a smile. “Quite possibly. However, you, as a Luminara, would be a formidable match. Let’s stay on friendly terms, shall we?” Standing up, she exudes an aura of authority mixed with an undercurrent of camaraderie.
Rayne, undeterred by the shift in conversation, presses on. “And your tattoo? What’s its story?” Her directness is refreshing, a trait that speaks to her fearless nature. Again, my power responds. She’s ours.
Aleah’s explanation is succinct. “It’s more than just ink. It’s a representation of the bond shared with my mates, a symbol that holds meaning for us. In our case, it’s a black rose.” She regards Rayne thoughtfully. “You, too, have been chosen by the Olympian gods for a soul bond with a celestial being. It’s likely that the symbol for your bond has already been determined.” Aleah holds out her hand and hands the small envelope that appears to me.
With those words, Aleah and her companions vanish. What the fuck?
