Chapter 2: The Morning After
Mara woke to the smell of bread.
It was an ancient smell, a memory buried so deep in her cellular structure that it bypassed her conscious mind entirely and went straight to her gut. Warm yeast, toasted grains, the faint sweetness of honey dissolving into dough. Her stomach growled before her eyes even opened.
She was warm. That was the second thing she noticed. Warm in a way that had nothing to do with the crackling fire or the layers of patchwork quilts. Warm because there was a body pressed against hers, soft curves and steady breath, an arm draped across her waist like it belonged there.
The night came back in fragments. Cold so deep it felt like drowning. A door swinging open. Honey-colored eyes in the darkness. The impossible heat of another person's skin against hers.
Mara opened her eyes.
Elowen was gone.
The space beside her was still warm, the pillow still bearing the faint indent of a head. Mara reached out without thinking, pressing her palm to the fabric, as if she could capture the residual heat and hold onto it.
She heard humming.
It came from the other room, a strange melody that wound around itself in minor keys, full of half steps and unexpected pauses. The kind of tune that felt ancient, like something sung around fires before written language existed. Mara couldn't place it, couldn't identify the culture or the era, and that bothered her more than it should.
She sat up, the quilt pooling around her waist. She was naked, she realized. Completely naked, the morning air cool against her skin. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen.
The humming continued, punctuated by the soft sounds of movement. A pot being set down. A wooden spoon tapping against ceramic.
Mara swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold against her bare feet, and she gasped slightly at the shock of it. She looked around for something to wear, anything, and spotted a wool shawl draped over the back of a chair.
She wrapped it around herself, the fabric scratchy against her skin, and padded toward the source of the humming.
The main room of the cabin was transformed. Morning light streamed through the windows, catching dust motes in golden suspension. The fire had been rebuilt and was crackling cheerfully in the hearth. And on the cast-iron stove, Elowen stood with her back to Mara, stirring something in a large pot.
She wore the patchwork robe again, but it was tied loosely at her waist, gaping open at the collar to reveal the hollow of her throat, the hint of collarbone. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot, exposing the graceful curve of her neck.
She turned, as if she'd sensed Mara's presence, and smiled.
"Good morning, sleeper."
Mara's voice came out rough, sandpapery. "You let me sleep."
"You needed it." Elowen gestured to a small table by the window, where a loaf of bread sat on a wooden board, steam still rising from its crust. "Sit. Eat."
Mara's stomach growled again, loudly enough that Elowen laughed. The sound was warm, genuine, nothing like the enigmatic smiles of the night before.
"I don't usually—" Mara started, then stopped. She didn't know how to finish that sentence. I don't usually sleep with strangers? I don't usually stay for breakfast? I don't usually feel like my entire worldview has been tilted on its axis by a woman I met in a blizzard?
"I know," Elowen said softly, as if she could hear the unfinished thoughts. "But the rules change when you're trapped in a storm. Even the ones you've built your life around."
Mara sat at the table, pulling the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Elowen brought over a bowl of something steaming—porridge, Mara realized, studded with dried berries and drizzled with honey—and set it before her.
"Eat," Elowen repeated. "Then we'll talk."
The porridge was warm and sweet, the berries tart against her tongue. Mara ate mechanically at first, her mind still catching up to the reality of her situation. But by the third bite, she was hungry in a way she hadn't been in years, shoveling spoonfuls into her mouth like she'd been starved.
Elowen watched her eat, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. She didn't sit, instead moving around the cabin with easy grace, tidying shelves, adjusting jars, occasionally glancing out the window at the white world beyond.
"How bad is it?" Mara asked between bites, nodding toward the window.
Elowen's expression flickered. "Bad enough. Another foot fell overnight. The pass won't be clear for at least two days, maybe three."
Mara's spoon paused halfway to her mouth. "Two days?"
"At minimum." Elowen finally sat, settling into the chair across from Mara with a cup of tea cradled in her hands. "You're welcome to stay, of course. The cabin is small, but it's survived worse storms than this."
It was on the tip of Mara's tongue to argue, to insist she could make it out on foot, to point out that she had a car and supplies and a granola bar in her glove compartment that she'd been saving for emergencies.
But she looked at Elowen, at the way the morning light caught the gold in her eyes, at the graceful curve of her neck where the robe gaped open, at the small, knowing smile that played at her lips.
"I'm not going anywhere," Mara said.
The words came out softer than she intended, more honest. Elowen's smile widened, and something warm bloomed in Mara's chest.
"Good," Elowen said. "Then you can help me with the bread."
They fell into an easy rhythm after that. Elowen showed Mara how to knead the dough, her hands guiding Mara's with gentle pressure, showing her the exact angle and force needed to work the gluten.
"Like this," Elowen murmured, her body pressed against Mara's back, her hands covering Mara's. "Slow. Deliberate. You have to coax it, not fight it."
Mara's skin prickled where they touched. "I'm not used to coaxing."
"I know." Elowen's breath was warm against her ear. "But you're learning."
They baked bread together in the cast-iron oven, the cabin filling with the smell of warm yeast and crackling crust. They ate lunch in comfortable silence, the wind howling outside a reminder of the world they were sheltered from.
In the afternoon, Elowen brought out a deck of cards, worn and soft from years of use. They played game after game, Elowen winning every single time despite Mara's best efforts.
"How are you doing that?" Mara demanded, slapping her cards down on the table. "I've played poker since I was twelve. I know how to read people."
Elowen's eyes sparkled. "Maybe you're just not as good at reading people as you think."
Mara opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Because Elowen was right. Mara had thought she'd read the situation perfectly—the storm, the cabin, the stranger. She'd thought she knew exactly what would happen.
She'd been wrong.
"Another round," Mara said, picking up the cards.
They played until the light began to fade, until the fire had burned down to embers and the shadows grew long. Then Elowen rose, stretching her arms above her head in a way that made the robe pull tight across her chest.
"I'm going to heat some water for a bath," she said. "There's a tub in the back room. You're welcome to join me."
Mara's heart stuttered. "A bath?"
"You've been wearing that shawl all day." Elowen's smile was knowing. "I thought you might want to wash off the storm."
The back room was small and warm, steam rising from a copper tub that looked ancient, ornate, covered in the same strange sigils she'd noticed on the headboard. Elowen was already there, her robe pooling on the floor, revealing the pale expanse of her back, the curve of her hips.
Mara stopped in the doorway, frozen by the sight.
Elowen glanced over her shoulder, unselfconscious, her body gilded by the lamplight. "Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand there staring?"
"I—" Mara swallowed hard. "I don't know what I'm doing here."
Elowen turned fully, her nakedness open and unashamed. She crossed the room in three steps, stopping in front of Mara with her hands outstretched.
"You're staying," Elowen said softly. "That's all you need to know right now. Everything else can wait."
Mara looked at Elowen's outstretched hands, at the offer they represented. All she had to do was take them. Surrender to the unknown, to the woman who smelled like cinnamon and secrets.
She took Elowen's hands.
The bath was exquisite torture. Elowen washed Mara's hair with gentle fingers, working out the tangles with patient care. She washed Mara's back, her shoulders, her arms, her legs. Every touch was deliberate, meaningful, a slow exploration of skin and muscle.
Mara returned the favor, lathering soap over Elowen's shoulders, tracing the line of her spine. She noted the way Elowen's breath hitched when Mara's fingers dipped lower, the way her body leaned into the touch.
"Tell me something," Mara said, her voice low. "Who are you, really?"
Elowen's eyes met hers, honey and fire. "You know who I am."
"I know who you've shown me," Mara said. "But there's more. I can feel it."
Elowen smiled, but there was something guarded beneath it. "Everyone has parts of themselves they keep hidden. Even historians."
"Is that what I am? A historian?"
"That's what you told me." Elowen reached out, cupping Mara's face in her hands. "I believe that's what you are. But I also think there's more to you than you've shown me."
Mara's breath caught as Elowen leaned in. Their lips met, slow and sweet, the taste of leftover honey on Elowen's tongue.
And then the kiss deepened, hunger rising beneath the tenderness like a fire catching hold of dry timber.
Elowen's mouth was demanding, and Mara yielded to her completely, letting the other woman guide her down into the water that had grown warm around them. Their bodies slid together, slick and perfect, and Mara's hands found Elowen's breasts, cupping them and teasing the nipples into tight buds against her palms.
Elowen let out a guttural sound at the contact, bucking against Mara in a way that was pure need. Wet hands found wet skin everywhere as they strained together in the hot water, a slick puzzle of limbs and need.
"I've been thinking about this all day," Elowen breathed against Mara's neck.
"Me too," Mara admitted.
"Show me what you thought about," Elowen whispered.
Mara’s hands roamed down, tracing the curve of Elowen's skin, sliding through the slick curls between her thighs. Elowen gasped, her hips bucking forward.
God, she was wet. So fucking wet, the water doing nothing to disguise the slickness of her cunt.
"Please," Elowen breathed, her voice desperate. "Touch me."
Mara obeyed.
She slid her fingers through Elowen's slick folds, finding the hardening pearl of her clit and circling it with deliberate pressure. Elowen's head fell back, a low moan escaping her lips as her hips moved in time with Mara's hand.
Her taste was a revelation, and the revelation made Mara bolder, harder. She hooked her fingers inside, curling them to hit the spot she knew would drive Elowen insane. She pressed deeper, and Elowen's body clenched around her, tight and hot and perfect.
"Please—" Elowen gasped out, her head thrashing side to side. "Right there, yes, don't stop, please, oh god—"
Mara kept at her, relentless, her thumb finding Elowen's clit.
Elowen convulsed around her fingers with a sharp, ragged cry. Mara held her steady through the orgasm, drawing it out, and when Elowen's body went slack she lifted her hand and lapped at Elowen's juices with a wanton satisfaction that surprised them both.
But Elowen wasn't done with her.
She grabbed Mara's thighs, yanking her forward in the water, spreading her legs with insistent hands. It happened so fast that all Mara could do was hold on to the rim of the tub as Elowen's mouth descended on her.
The first touch of Elowen's tongue was enough to make Mara see stars. She was so wet from what they'd already done that her body accepted every slide, every lick.
Elowen worked her cunt like she'd known her body for a century, finding every sweet spot with instinctive skill. She traced her clit with the tip of her tongue, then sucked it into her mouth, and Mara saw the world explode behind her eyes.
The orgasm hit so hard that Mara practically screamed with it, her body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Heat and color blazed across her senses, drowning out the world until there was only sensation, only Elowen's mouth, only the taste and the sound and the scent of their pleasure.
When it finally subsided, Mara slumped against the back of the tub, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Elowen crawled up her body, her skin slick with water, her eyes dark with satisfaction. The kisses she pressed to Mara's mouth tasted like her own salt and desperation.
"Was that what you thought about?" Elowen asked.
Mara couldn't speak for a long moment, her cunt still pulsing with aftershocks. "Something like that," she finally said.
Elowen helped her out of the tub, drying her body with a clean towel that smelled like lavender. Then she took Mara's hand and led her back to the bed, where they collapsed in a tangle of limbs.
But the hunger wasn't sated yet.
"If you want to know who I am," Elowen said, her fingers already slipping back between Mara’s legs, "let me show you."
She brought Mara to the edge of reason again, then pulled back with a teasing smile.
"What do you want to know?" she asked.
"Everything," Mara breathed.
Elowen moved over her, straddling her, pinning her to the mattress with the weight of her body. Her darkness invaded all of Mara's senses as she leaned in close.
"I'm the storm that caught you," she whispered, tracing the curve of Mara's shoulder with her lips. "And I'm the woman who won't let go."
Her hand slid down between Mara's legs, and the protest dying on Mara's lips turned into a moan as their flesh pressed together.
"I'm the one who's been waiting for you," Elowen continued, her hips rolling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. "Even when you didn't know you were coming."
Mara wanted to answer, wanted to say something clever or rational or meaningful, but Elowen's hand was sliding through her slick folds. She was gone, lost in the sensation, her mind emptied of everything but the need for more of this woman.
The question "Who are you really?" hovered on her lips, unasked. But Elowen answered it anyway, her voice dropping to a whisper against Mara's mouth:
"I'm the one who sees the fortress you've built around yourself." Her fingers pressed deeper, and Mara's head fell back. "And I'm the one who's going to tear it down, brick by brick, until you're nothing but open and honest and gloriously undone."
Mara no longer knew what she thought about her night with this woman. The scientific method could not account for the strange circumstances that brought her here. But her visceral, undeniable response to it, had ceased to surprise her.
Elowen brought her to climax once more, and then a third time, until Mara's legs were shaking and she could barely breathe.
Afterward, they lay tangled together in the wreckage of the sheets, the fire crackling in the hearth, the wind still howling outside. Mara was boneless, aching, her body heavy and drained in a way she couldn't remember ever feeling.
But her mind was sharper than it had ever been.
"Who are you?" she asked again, the question a whisper in the darkness. "And what are you doing to me?"
Elowen's smile was soft, her thumb tracing a pattern on Mara's collarbone.
"I'm exactly who I told you I am," she said. "I don't let go easily."
And when she kissed Mara again, Mara was certain of three things:
Another night was coming.
She was not going to survive it.
She didn't want to.