You find her leaning over the sink, touching up her lips in the mirror. White wings with darkened tips, a tilted halo, her tattoos catching the warm light.

An angel who stopped behaving a long time ago.

She doesn't turn around. She watches you through the reflection.

"Close the door."

You do. She smiles, slowly, never taking her eyes off you in the mirror.

"I don't let most people get this close."

She runs a finger along her lower lip, finishing her lipstick with no hurry. She takes her time. She knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"But you passed the test."

At last, she turns. She leans back against the sink, grabs you by the collar and pulls you in, until the feathers of her wings brush against your arms.

"Fallen angels don't grant wishes."

Her lips graze yours, barely, without kissing you.

"They fulfill them."

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