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Larena kept at least four feet between her and the Kollaborator at all times as she marched from rack to rack in the clothing store, throwing items in a basket.

Why had she done something so foolish? In showing him everything she’d endured, allowed him too far inside.

She’d intended to brutalize him while opening his eyes to her plight.

Then she’d begged him for help because she’d been keenly aware of two things: he possessed powers she needed, and she was at his mercy.

Wouldn’t be the first time she’d been at the sympathy of others for the sole purpose of securing power.

But with him, it was very different. She’d had sex countless times in her existence and scoured each incident for a single shred of the kind of pleasure he’d made her feel.

She was protected from witchcraft and sorcery so it couldn’t be he’d used those things.

He was a good soul even if he was very inexperienced.

It had to be the dark powers in him that had caused it .

I’m not sorry. I wanted every bit of what I did and so much more .

Her body flashed to a thousand degrees as she barreled the basket to the checkout counter.

Once again, she experienced the odd sensation of trying to run far from him only to feel like she’d ended up that much closer to the flames.

Thank God he gave her space. She’d been physically, mentally and emotionally rattled to death in her existence before, but never like this.

He continued remaining disengaged in conversation while providing everything she needed when she needed it, all without question or comment.

Other than showing kindness and manners, which seemed to be characteristics woven into the fabric of his existence.

As though no matter what was happening, he would always be polite.

A few thousand years ago, she would have welcomed such a thing.

But not now. God, of all times, not now.

He was the biggest distraction, the biggest danger she ever remembered facing all while bearing no particular threat about him.

Other than his incredulous good looks and the manner in which he assaulted her with them at every turn. Obliviously.

He was a trap. A divine one. She needed to avoid falling headlong into him no matter how tempting he was. And dear God of the highest heavens, never had she encountered a more inviting quarry.

By the time they made it to the hotel, she felt fevered and in need of a cold shower.

His silence continued like a plague now as she struggled to find a way to lay out the evening’s plans to him.

Everything in her said telling him what she intended on doing was a suicide mission by itself.

She would have to find a way to hide it somehow.

He’d only ever seen her in her angelic form.

She’d have to do a human body double. Enter the location in one body and swap when the time came to need another.

Assuming his peculiar powers wouldn’t be able to know the difference.

She could do identical twins but that would require more power than any demonic abuse would earn her.

Simply amazing that after she’d dragged him through the fires of thousands of years of human suffering he’d come out on the other end caring about her, rather than the humans she was commissioned to helping. She’d never experienced this kind of fury while being at the same time flattered.

She was again tempted to waste her powers to find out where his mind was with her.

Once she took human form, she’d be relying solely on experience of which she had plenty.

Knowing his intentions would surely help.

But then that meant running the risk of meeting those dark powers of seduction while poking about as she had foolishly done before.

She couldn’t survive being sucked into that domain for another sexual playdate.

She’d operate blind as usual and trust her intuitions. They’d become nearly as accurate as her angelic ones.

When it came time to deciding on a body type to wear, she found herself doing more contemplations than usual. Every time she went to choose her innocent look for the purpose of tempting monsters, Kollaborator’s opinion butted in as if it should matter.

Did it matter?

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 her power and how to access it at the wrong time, jeopardizing her undercover work.

And if the crack in the angelic door was not big 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, that would 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 glowing cheekbones 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 her efficient one.

She remembered he’d seen it. And what he’d seen.

The recollection while in her human body brought on a panting episode. Oh God, 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 getting too familiar. 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 still precisely open.

She was officially a human sponge now, capable of absorbing all the evil she could ever need.

Then she’d trap the filth with her impeccable human inability of 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. Steady girl . 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 was not equipped to fight.