"Do you think Bilial bathes in brimstone or just raw ego?" Vaela asks without looking up from her glass.
Lilith snorts. "Ego. Definitely ego. Probably scrubs himself down with the tears of interns and eats live puppies for dessert."
Vaela lifts her glass in salute. "And here I thought I was the dramatic one."
The penthouse glows in the early twilight, cool amber light casting sensual shadows across sleek marble floors and designer velvet furniture. Vaela leans lazily against the bar counter, one elbow perched atop polished stone as she swirls her wine in slow, luxurious circles. Across from her, Lilith lounges like a jungle cat on a barstool, one leg up, one heel dangling precariously from her toe, sipping something bright and wickedly fruity.
