Page 9

No…it didn’t matter.

Mmm, no…that felt off.

She’d pick a middle-of-the-road body. Innocent but mature. Experienced.

She visualized a female and again paused at hairstyle. Short or long? The Kollaborator’s silent judgment circled her with a hot, sky-blue gaze.

She forced herself to choose and closed her eyes, ordering the sequential shutdown of everything that made her limitless. She braced her hands on the bathroom vanity as her angelic reflexes waned and galactical awareness dimmed.

She was careful to take this part slow. The first time she’d attempted it resulted in physical injuries. Having your eternal knowledge sucked from you was like forcing yourself to slowly drown. Panic was inevitable. And the further down into the darkness of fragile humanity you went, the harder it was to remember how to fight. Even after it was done, it felt like she was living at the bottom of the ocean, the pressure making it difficult to breathe, the murky water limiting sight to nearly blind. It was a blind kind of seeing. You saw but didn’t understand that you were seeing. Or what you were seeing. More like merely observing.

The crack in the angelic door had to be perfect. Too big, and she would know too much and risk remembering herpower and how to access it at the wrong time, jeopardizing her undercover work. And if the crack in the angelic door wasnotbig enough, it made her too slow, too weak. In the hands of the wrong demon, the trauma they inflicted upon her could break her ability to return.

It only happened once and cost her dearly. She was eighty-two years old and on her death bed before another servant of divinity came and touched her forehead and opened her mind back up, allowing her to self-heal and reverse all the damages.

It had been a very slow death. But she used the failure as a foundation for her current craft. She now worked the trick like a divine angel working the devil’s corner. She wasn’t just spiritually frugal, she was diabolically prudent. Crafty as a serpent, harmless as a dove wasn’t just a core tenet. It was her most deadly weapon—wielded with ruthless agility.

She focused on the air in her lungs, struggling to adjust to the decrease, controlling her adrenalin that desperately fought to flip her the fuck out. “Normal,” she breathed out loud. “It’s normal. You’re okay. You’re fine.”

Her knees nearly buckled in panic remembering who was on the other side of the door in the room. Oh fuck, fuck,thatwould be a new level of difficult. She’d only trained her downgraded self with demons, not gorgeous... seductive… whatever he technically was.

Just a different fight. That’s all. Adapt. Adjust. Go slow. Learn quick.

She held up her hand and watched it tremble. The chaotic energy swirled inside her and a weird sound escaped her. The kind you heard humans make who were on their way around the bend in the road of no return.

She stared in the mirror at the long, silky blond hair and flawless skin. Angling her head, she studied the glowingcheekbones and clear blue eyes. She focused on her mouth next, touching the full lips that were so different from her own, grounding herself in her new reality.

She eyed the voluptuous body type she chose. So different from herefficientone.

She remembered he’d seen it. Andwhathe’d seen.

The recollection while in her human body brought on a panting episode. OhGod,what was she risking with him while in this form? And why was she wondering if he’d like this form more than her angelic one?

The shake returned to her entire body this time, and she closed her eyes.Breathe. Steady. Focus.

Time. Limited.

She quickly climbed into the sheer white outfit, her humanity beating frantically against her chest bone. The feeling was gettingtoofamiliar. It was the sword’s other edge. And if she wasn’t careful, she could fall on the wrong side of that blade and cut a door into herself of self-destruction.

She got into the heels that felt more like cliffs and moved toward the bathroom door, body on a buzz high. She’d have to ride it out as she went. She didn’t want to be in this form any longer than was necessary, especially with her new friend/foe waiting for her.

She took several calming breaths, checking to ensure the crack to her angelic side was stillpreciselyopen. She was officially a human sponge now, capable of absorbing all the evil she could ever need. Then she’d trap the filth with herimpeccablehumaninabilityof releasing it. It was the perfect snare that required perfect execution.

She barely stopped herself from using anger as a shield at the very last second.Steadygirl. She pushed it back. The last thing she needed was to gain power and have to use a drop of it to pay her own sin debts.

She opened the door and rounded the corner.

The room was empty. Her breath released with the need to collapse in relief. She spotted a paper on the table and hurried to it, her ankle twisting in the too-high white heels. Mercy.

Got a separate room adjoining yours so you can have your privacy. I’m in room 950. Come get me when you’re ready.

Heavens, he was more foe than friend without trying. His kindness and consideration were weapons she wasnotequipped to fight.

She sat in the chair, staring at the note. The handwriting. Messy and yet uniform. Like somebody comfortable in their imperfect skin. More likeperfectskin. Perfect everything. She’d gotten a good look at him while in that lust domain and there was no amount of power in all the realms that could remove him from her memory.

Before she could think herself into a little petrified corner, she headed out, struggling for a balance between calm and calamitous.

In the hallway of the semi-luxurious hotel, she found his door and knocked. Taking a step back, she waited while attempting to strike a suitable pose, realizing there wasn’t one. She stood in the body of a twenty-year-old wearing tramp attire with a dash of purity. What sort oflookwas she to wear on her face?