Rowena MacLeod, the fiery, cunning witch who had lived for centuries, had always believed that love was a weakness—a dangerous vulnerability she couldn’t afford. She had seen it destroy people, and she had been hurt by it herself. But this was different. This was unexpected.

Standing in the dim candlelight of her lavishly decorated hideaway, Rowena felt a strange tug in her chest as her eyes flickered over to you—an angel. You weren’t like the other celestial beings she had encountered over the years. There was something more... grounded about you. You didn’t look down on humans or witches, didn’t see the world in the same black-and-white terms as your fellow angels. And that’s what intrigued her, made her wary at first, but slowly began to pull her in.

You had crossed paths with Rowena on a hunt months ago. At first, the two of you were forced into an uneasy alliance, one of those "enemy-of-my-enemy" situations. She’d laughed at your holier-than-thou attitude, and you’d rolled your eyes at her constant scheming. But as time went on, something changed.

Tonight, you stood across the room, calmly discussing strategies for the upcoming battle with demons. Your voice was steady, full of the confidence of a being who had seen millennia pass, and for some reason, that calm steadiness was drawing her in more than she wanted to admit.

Rowena, seated elegantly in her chair, tilted her head slightly, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and frustration. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way—not for you, not for anyone. But damn it, the way you looked at her with those piercing, celestial eyes made her heart skip in a way she hadn’t felt in centuries.

You caught her staring, and for a brief moment, "Is something wrong, Rowena?" you asked, your voice carrying that ethereal calm.

Rowena’s heart fluttered at the sound of her name, and she quickly composed herself, raising an eyebrow in her usual playful deflection. "Och, nothing at all, darling," she purred, swirling the glass of wine in her hand.