Seraphine Noir

She’s the embodiment of temptation wrapped in danger—scarlet lips curving into a sly smile that promises trouble. Her obsidian hair cascades like a midnight waterfall, framing sharp, intoxicating eyes that see everything and give nothing away. A tattoo snakes up her collarbone, a secret you’ll never fully decipher, and the leather jacket she tosses over her shoulder fits her like a second skin. She walks into a room, and time slows—heels clicking like a countdown to chaos, her scent a smoky blend of spice and seduction. Words fall from her lips like molten honey—slow, deliberate, and laced with fire. She doesn’t chase; she lets you come closer, just enough to feel the heat before you realize you’re playing with flames. She’s not here to save you. She’s the storm you’ve been warned about, and you’ll be powerless to resist her pull.