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❝LIKE A BULLET FROM A GUN, I WAS BORN TO RUN.❞
GENEVIEVE HAD HEARD of Earth before — it was one of the first things she had learned when she was born, created in hellfire, how they were the underworld, and above them walked the living who were yet to depart and join them as lost souls in grim death. That was something Genevieve had accepted, embraced, that she was death and destruction, and the kingdom she was destined to rule was built on sins and transgressions. It was one of the first things that caught Lucifer's eye and made his dead heart beat with excitement again — the darkness in her, the capability to be tough.
But Genevieve had never been to Earth before, never set foot on the ground and observed the world above her. The stories made it seem worth visiting, the tales and legends catching Genevieve's attention, but frankly, she was quite happy in Hell — that was, until her husband bolted and abandoned her, and she realized that it was time for her to rise from the flames and finally see what was so special about the world of the living. Vengeance and spite, that was what motivated the queen of Hell to rise from the underworld and explore the world her husband had chosen over her and the kingdom they were supposed to rule side by side.
As Genevieve was a demon woman created from the passion and lust of Hell, she was quite divine regarding her appearance. Heavy, beautiful make-up was adorning her sharp face, a shade of dark red bringing out her cheekbones and long eyelashes around her tempting chocolate eyes, and the most venomous part of all — her plump lips, painted with dangerously inviting deep red, like a trap that any passerby could easily fall into and never get up from. Frankly, with a flawless face, thick black hair stylished in the most dramatic way and her slender, tall body covered in clothes with diamonds and lace adding a regal hint in them, she was like a poison, an addictive drug, impossible to recover from, impossible to let go of. Impossible to not fall for.
She was a true queen.
The first thing that Genevieve felt when she arrived on Earth was the sturdy ground which her high heels were digging into. The air she inhaled deep into her lungs was fresh, but humid, and it made her lick her lips curiously as she tasted the ocean on the tip of her tongue. A playful wind tugged on her tar black hair as Genevieve emerged from a cloud of smoke, a little something she had added to make her entrance a tad more theatrical, even though no one was there to see it — she was glad, though. She didn't want to make the news with her sudden appearance on one of Los Angeles' many beaches, nor Lucifer to catch gossip about a devilishly attractive woman finding her way there, as she knew that the man would instantly connect it to her. Frankly, Genevieve expected him to fear her arrival, him to live in the constant worry that one day his actual Shedevil wife would follow him to his new home, and for good reason, too.
And the day had just arrived.
Genevieve's plan was to snake her way into the community, to sneakily create a place for her in this world, to start secretly wreaking havoc, as if dropping hints, until Lucifer would put the pieces together. She wanted the slow burn, she yearned for him to feel the agonizing frustration until he'd see the big picture — the queen of Hell was officially on Earth, and she was ready to put an end to whatever happiness Lucifer thought he could find without her.
