Page 6

She sat in the chair, staring at the note.

The handwriting. Messy and yet uniform. Like somebody comfortable in their imperfect skin.

More like perfect skin. 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 of look was she to wear on her face?

The door opened, ending one torture and beginning another. Her gaze devoured his black slacks and matching dress shirt while wondering when he’d gotten new clothes. Had he snatched them during her blind shopping rampage?

“Can I help you?”

She shot her gaze up to his heart-stopping blue one. “It’s me. The…Bellatore.”

He looked her over again, making her feel like a cheap imposter. “I wondered if you could do that,” he muttered, stepping aside and lowering his gaze to the floor as he did.

She entered, wondering what she’d heard in his tone.

Disappointment? Awe? Curiosity? Interest?

The fact that he didn’t recognize her meant she could swap out bodies if she thought it necessary.

She was already needing to hide from his hot judgmental eyes before getting to the job and it had nothing to do with said job.

She sat herself at the small table only to find him absent.

Water near the bathroom turned on and her century-honed lady manners took over, gracefully crossing her legs.

The imposter feeling returned like a nagging wrinkle in her persona she needed to iron out but didn’t know how.

Of all the times she used this form, she couldn’t recall a single one where she felt so put-off in it.

“I’m ready to know what your intentions are to gain the power you need,” he called from the bathroom vanity area.

She steadied her pulse at the question, remembering she needed to come up with a decoy story. “The usual,” she said, racing to think.

“Right.” He was now heading toward her, all masculine grace and beauty.

He sat on the edge of the bed across from her, dropping dress shoes at feet hidden by black polyester.

She stared, wondering what sort of feet they were.

And why wonder such a useless thing? “You’ll need to be a lot more specific. ”

The daddy tone was the first sign of trouble.

Then came his stern gaze, making her forget the problematic topic.

Then came a look on his face that brought other problems to mind.

The place they were going, and what sort of attention he’d be subjected to.

He’d be mauled by both male and female. She remembered the stupid little door games they played at the little hell hole.

Without a doubt he’d be an instant attraction and likely end up on the auction block and sold to the owner’s wife for a snack.

Her blood heated with a mess of unholy chemicals at the idea of the woman all over him.

No. He couldn’t go there.

Could she hide him?

He placed his palms on the bed and angled his head at her, blue gaze hot and probing. Her human body reacted to the erotic, open-kneed position. Was it unintentional? “That bad, huh?” he muttered softly, making her swallow.

“There’s never anything pleasant about my work. I’m sure you realize.”

Her pulse hammered in her chest as his gaze moved slowly over her body, making her wonder again what he thought of it. “You like this look?” he asked.

Mercy. “It’s not about what I like, it’s about what they like.”

“So, you’re dressing to please,” he said.

Did that mean he found her pleasing? “I dress for the job.”

He was back to holding her stare, something she found impossibly powerful. “So… do you?”

Her mouth was suddenly too dry. “Do I what?”

“Do you like this look?”

“Do you?” It flew out of her mouth for lack of oxygen in her brain.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his legs, putting himself a foot closer. “Tell me what you intend to do, Bellatore.”

He was on to her. That was a warning. “I volunteer to be a masochist.”

He stared at her for many seconds before his eyes lowered to the floor, a careful cock of a hidden weapon. “I won’t let you do that.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “You said you’d help me.”

“And I will. But not like that.”

All the stuff in between those words rattled her humanity. Focus. He’s but a… a… what was he technically? She wasn’t sure. “Then… how?”

She suddenly didn’t want to know but needed to.

Her gaze caught on his mouth and her brain went to work on its perfections and the message behind the slight tug at the corner.

“If you intend to use that body to get power from demons, I will never allow it. I could,” he said softly, before assuring, “but I won’t. ”

Why should she be concerned about the body he referenced in the debate at her doorstep? “Would you prefer I use my angelic form, then?”

She was suddenly staked to an invisible wall with the tumultuous power brewing in his blue eyes now right on her. “ Especially… and never… that body.”

An explosion of sparks popped off in her blood as she focused on breathing along with the utmost importance of the conversation, the one about saving humanity, not which body he preferred, her angelic one over this human one. And yet, vanity insisted the fate of the world depended on confirming it.

“What if I told you that I can give you all the power you need without requiring… this.”

He gestured at her with clasped hands, his elbows still on his knees.

“This… body?”

He only nodded, still staring at her with a million plans swirling in the depths of his passionate gaze. She definitely needed to know and understand all of them.

“What’s… wrong with this body?”

“I don’t like it,” he said without missing a beat.

“I can… take on any type I wish.”

“Unless they look exactly like the Bellatore, no.”

Oh mercy. So he was saying he liked her angelic form more. She remembered what they were talking about. This power he claimed to have. “Are you referring to… the dark powers in you?”

His stare boiled with a silent yes under raised brows .

She swallowed.

Then remembered to breathe.

“I don’t… quite understand.”

“I think you do.”

Flashes of what had passed between them in that dark-lust realm brought her pulse to a raging pound in her body.

She really needed to know exactly what this entailed.

But to ask felt like suicide. The sudden need for her angelic powers seemed most necessary to learn this answer without hearing him say it.

Because if he clothed these bright ideas with his decadent words and tongue, they would be a trap she would not escape.

Or want to. And yet, how would she find out?

She could not use power. She mustn’t. She would have to use her human skills and work her way to understanding.

“You want… to use the dark lusts on me?”

He didn’t answer right away. And she was very sure those dark powers prowled just beyond the stare-snare she was now in. “If by me, you mean the Bellatore, then yes.”

“But…” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “This power is greater if…”

His head shook slowly.

No?

“Not this power. It’s created for the spiritual and humanity. And… I have zero interest in your human facades.”

“What…”

No, not what.

“Why…”

“You want to hear me say the words,” he said, or seemed to discern. His brows drew together in such a way that brought hot shame to her human cheeks.

“I just…”

“Yes or no, Bellatore,” he offered again, his patience silky. “Do you want the power I have to give you? Or would you prefer to gain it with that human body through demons? That question was purely sarcasm and in no way denotes an option. I’m offering you power, and I expect you to take it.”

Everything was off the rails in her human body now. There was only one thing left to do and that was ask a stupid question. “What if I say no?”

“It doesn’t matter what you say you want. It only matters what I know you want. And… if you need me to use force… I would be more than thrilled to.”

“Force?” she whispered, her chest on fire with every wallop of her heartbeat. “You can’t…”

“I can,” he corrected instantly, lust filling the space between them till the air crackled with it.

Pretty sure it was the knowing how right he was that created a brand-new shiny panic switch.

And her debilitating hunger for exactly what he offered is what flipped it.

There was no time to pray what her last second, hair-brained idea would cost her, there was only tackling the fire across from her before it burned her alive.