Just as abruptly, Raph was flung from the loch onto a tiny island studded with trees. He sat up on his elbows, blinking hard. A woman slowly emerged from the lake as though she were walking into a high-class party. She was thoroughly naked, but she advanced as though she didn't notice this fact. In the failing light, Raph could see that her flesh was dark and stippled. Lakewater streamed from her breasts and thighs as she moved.

She stepped across Raph, placing her bare feet on either side of his thighs. During the day, this would have afforded him a clear view of the valley between her legs, but now that valley was shadowed. She nearly blended in with the black silhouettes of the hills on the far shore of the lake, but Raph could track her by the dim light that glinted off her wet skin.

Raph tried to raise up. She placed her foot on his chest gently -- no more than a suggestion that he should not move. He stayed where he was. The woman crouched over him, bringing her face inches from his, and studied him intently from this close range.

Her proximity filled Raph with an oppressive gloom, much like the atmosphere at Boleskine House the day the Archangels had arrived. However, unlike Boleskine's watchful stoicism, the woman -- who was now examining Raph's frilled button-down shirt and worn black jeans with eager hands -- also stoked his body and brain with a painful heat he hadn't known since the first time he'd been naked with a girl. Her touch made him want to hand himself over and never look back.

Tentatively he raised his hands and touched them to the woman's skin. It felt entirely unlike human flesh; it was cold, firm, and slick, completely without hair.

She leaned down and pressed her mouth to Raph's. Her cool tongue darted between his teeth, tasting of moss and ozone. Raph kissed back, pleasure overtaking his sense of trepidation. He sat up so that the woman straddled his lap, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She kissed him more deeply still, aided by the fact that she was not breathing.