THE ALPHA'S NAUGHTY LITTLE CHRISTMAS GIFT.
Letters begin forming in the condensation, slow and detailed, spelling something she can’t coherently make out.
Her reflection grins.
Fangs.
Long, curved, predatory fangs where her canines should be.
The shriek tears from her throat before thought can catch up. She stumbles backward, her hip slamming into a side table. When she looks again, the fangs are gone, but her eyes, her eyes are glowing. Amber light pulses where her irises should be, like something demonic is staring back.
“No. No, no, no—”
Her hand finds a heavy candlestick. She hurls it with everything she has. The mirror explodes, glass raining down in a thousand glittering pieces.
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