The word flitted through her mind, there and gone, before her mouth opened in a groan. The groan led to her teeth brushing over Hæra’s flesh. And then her tongue. She tasted salt and skin, warm and delicious.

She needed more of it. Closing her eyes, Madeleine began to suck Hæra’s skin. Maybe she could drink it right down if she went hard enough.

A gasp. Then Hæra’s fingers grabbed her hair, tugging her head back. Had Madeleine sucked too hard, hurt her? There was already a reddening patch on her neck.

Hæra’s eyes were wildfire. She bent her head, and now her mouth latched onto Madeleine’s neck once more. Teeth came with it. Their edges sank into Madeleine’s skin at the same moment Hæra’s hand cupped Madeleine between her legs.

Pain and pleasure, equally fierce. How could she ever want one without the other? Madeleine cried out in joy and arched up into Hæra’s hand and mouth.

“More,” she pleaded. “All of me.”

Hæra reared up. Even on her knees she loomed over Madeleine, body edged with firelight. Her chest rose and fell with her panting breath. What did she look like beneath her shirt? Her breasts would be smaller than Madeleine’s—probably pale, probably soft, definitely perfect.

As if she’d read Madeleine’s mind, Hæra began to unbutton her shirt. The breath stopped in Madeleine’s lungs. That dream she’d had—when Hæra had refused to reveal herself, but now⁠—

“Take yours off too,” Hæra said hoarsely. “Unless you want me to tear it.”

Madeleine’s sweater was sturdy wool woven from Ætlaquoy’s own sheep. She grabbed at it. “Y-you could tear this?”

Hæra’s eyes flashed. “You haven’t seen the limits of my strength. Would you test them?”

“Yes,” Madeleine gasped before she could stop herself. “Show me.”

Hæra grabbed the collar of Madeleine’s sweater. The wool tore as if she were ripping a piece of notebook paper in half. The threads snapped apart, crackling with static electricity. If the shock pained Hæra, she gave no sign of it. She only stared down at Madeleine’s knit shirt.

No, not at the shirt. At Madeleine’s breasts beneath it.

Nobody had looked so openly at her body since she’d put on a habit. Nobody she’d wanted had ever looked at her body at all. Hæra’s gaze made it unfurl like a flower reaching for a single bright ray that pierced the clouds.

Pierce me again. Madeleine arched up helplessly into that look. A soft whimper came from the back of her throat.

“I won’t tear anything else,” Hæra whispered. “Bare yourself for me. Show me.”