Lilith's morning began the same way it always did, with rage simmering beneath flawless, porcelain skin.
She stood in front of her mirror, purple eyes glowing like polished amethysts, framed by hair the same shimmering shade. The early light from her dorm window washed over her face, illuminating every perfect angle, every soft curve, every feature sculpted by the gods purely to torment mortals.
And yet she looked absolutely furious.
Her reflection looked back at her: mature, sensual, breathtaking.
Perfect.
Lilith clicked her tongue. "Of course I look perfect." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, admiring the way it caught the light like a waterfall of silk.
But the satisfaction didn't last.
Because the moment her mind wandered, the moment his face appeared, her eye twitched.
"That—" she muttered, fists clenching at her sides,"black-haired… golden-eyed… ARROGANT little—"
She stopped, sucking in a breath as her anger spiked so hard that the lamps in her room flickered.
