[THIS CHAPTER FEATURES CATHOLIC FETISH.]
"You don't need to hide anymore, darling. Not here, and not with us," Sekhmet chuckled as she poured wine from a silver flagon.
It was early night. She lay on her back, sprawled with the others on a wide picnic blanket. She brought a flute to her lips and drank long. Rafel smacked his lips as he licked at his empty plate. He made groaning sounds of appreciation.
"I don't know," said Aya Naamah with uncertainty to Sekhmet's words. "Lord Israfel was the one who preferred my fair complexion, and I rather like it."
"As compared to your hypnotic blue skin?"
"I do not know anyone who could stand you in your full reveal, love. No one." Ravenna assented with Sekhmet's rhetoric.
"I've never seen a succubus' real form—" Rosa broke a carrot, "I would like to."