[She sinks her teeth into Shrike's wrist delicately, lovingly. She can immediately taste the thick black blood. And far from tasting bad to Sekhmet, she relishes the taste, closing her eyes to savor it. Deep and rich and warm, layered and complex like the finest wine. It sends a shiver down her spine, the knowledge that Shrike trusted her enough to give her this, that they are being connected by imbibing the very stuff of her life and making it a part of her. It's an intense rush, bringing pleasure to the darkest parts of her as well as her more human feelings of love and desire, but she doesn't lose herself, and quickly licks the wounds closed and withdraws.

Her eyes are dreamy. Smitten. No, this was nothing like the princess game, and she hardly felt any guilt at all. It was gentle and loving and beautiful.]

Oh, that was wonderful, Shrike.