Her eyes made up for it. Madeleine looked into the hottest eyes she had ever beheld. They were an unusual color. She supposed “amber” was the closest word to it, but she’d never known amber to catch fire before. They were almost…yellow, in a certain light.

The woman stepped closer, openly looking Madeleine up and down. It should have been presumptuous, even rude. Fire should not have swept over Madeleine as those eyes assessed every inch of her. Then the woman looked into her eyes again, seeking something. Madeleine had no idea what it could be, but what if she didn’t have it?

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Was her mouth hanging open? Were her eyes bugging out?

She’d been tormented by women for so long—women with pretty faces, enticing figures, and delicate hands. Feminine women. Women she’d managed to resist. Now Madeleine looked at this entirely new kind of woman and thought: I didn’t know about you.

“Sister Madeleine,” the woman said softly, and her voice rolled through Madeleine’s blood like the tide. It was deep, almost throaty. For a moment it seemed familiar, although it couldn’t be. “It’s so good to see you.”

Good to see you. That wasn’t the half of it.

Hæra hoped she had control over her eyes. When she wasn’t careful, she could wear a devouring look, or so Jonathan had warned her.

Sister Madeleine was even more worth devouring than she remembered.

There was more to see now. Sister Madeleine’s wavy hair was dark brown, nearly black, and fell just past her shoulders, looking wind-blown. She wasn’t wearing that dowdy habit anymore. Instead, she had on a blue jacket and jeans. Hæra couldn’t make out much of her top half thanks to the jacket, but the jeans showed the curve of her hips followed by long legs—not as long as Hæra’s, but few women’s were. Sister Madeleine’s cheeks were flushed, undoubtedly from the cool air that never troubled Hæra. She was…beautiful.

That is, as humans went. She met their standards of beauty. That was an objective fact. It didn’t mean anything in particular for Hæra to notice it.

Something else had changed from last time. Sister Madeleine had a scar on her forehead just over her right eyebrow. Hæra remembered that spot with all the clarity of pure water. She remembered tasting it, too. Their encounter had marked Sister Madeleine as permanently as it had Hæra.

How wonderful.