There was a storm in her eyes.  When you looked into them you could see it raging.  Her soul like a hurricane, devastation intense.  She was a powerful creature both physically and mentally, not someone you would wish to cross.  Bad juju.  She did dabble in the witchy arts . . . a practicing adept.  Intelligent and gifted, not one to be toyed with, she generally got what she wanted one way or another.  

She felt herself a good judge of character.  Yet she had just learned she had been blind to the obvious.  How had she missed it?  Rarely did she feel at such a loss.  She was floored by the revelation. It was just plain unnerving to have been surprised that another was other than she had deemed.  No matter, she’d simply stepped back and re-cast. This was merely a different opportunity to further her barren ambitions. 

Still ambitious she was.  There was no room for doubt she had an agenda, a goal, a strategy she pursued.  Everything was now a means to his end.  Plotting and re-plotting as the situation morphed.  An advantage ever sought and usually found.  

Action was necessary to turn the course back to her command, regain the high ground. Always the player, intolerable to be played, she would retaliate.  Others would pay.  Let him think her a fool, weak, helpless in his thrall.  He would see nothing she did not allow him to see and she would portray what he wished her to be.  

Time was on her side.  Patience was her friend.  He ever one to need the gratification of the moment, she would wait . . . wait and reveal to him only what he thought he knew.  They destined to be allies against the world. She meant to be the only one that truly understood.  She was first and forever the only one like him. Never again would she believe him anything but the demon he was.   Never again would he see the truth in her heart. 

She would be gracious in her forgiveness and understanding.  She would be what he needed, until she got what she wanted . . . her proverbial pound of flesh.