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Lirael's POV

I lean on the hotel balcony’s railing, my forearms braced on top, my hands hanging loosely. A mild breeze cools my sweat-damp skin, which, along with the rumpled sheets of the king-size bed behind me, bears testament to the activity that’s occupied me for the last few hours. This high up, the normal sounds of New York City—music, shouts, the occasional siren, the honking of car horns—are muted, much like the stars, which can barely be seen through the haze of illumination cast by the sprawling urban jungle below.

From here, I can see Wright Plaza, the fifty-three-story office tower which houses the global headquarters of the Wright Group. The lights glimmering in the windows reveal that many of our people are still at work, even this late on a Friday night. A glow from the corner of the highest floor shows that Nathan, my older brother by five years—thirty-six to my thirty-one—is there too.

Hardly a surprise.

“Hey,” a low, feminine voice purrs behind me. Soft breasts pres