by Ophelia Silk
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A Wary Truce
“I HAVE AN idea.”
Jane had fallen into a fitful doze, still leaning against Adelaide’s legs. But the sound of the witch’s voice roused her. “What?”
“Whenever I start off the day feeling… wrong, I soak in the bath. Washing off the grime has a comforting effect. And my bath is more than big enough for two. If you’d like some company.”
Jane bit the inside of her cheek. Part of her still felt wary. But a larger part of her wanted that connection with Adelaide again, and she thought that sharing a bath might be helpful. It would be intimate, if nothing else, and she craved contact with somebody. “Alright.”
She stood, following Adelaide into the washroom. She’d seen the bath in the corner but never used it for more than a quick cleanse to get the dirt off. She’d noticed, of course, that Adelaide’s bath was rather bigger than any she had ever seen, but it never occurred to her that she was meant to linger in it.
Adelaide filled the tub with water, reaching into a cabinet to grab several glass jars. The first one seemed to be full of petals, and when she threw them into the water, a soft floral scent filled the room. The second had what looked like pale blue salt, and when she sprinkled that in, bubbles foamed the surface of the water.
Finally, she pulled out a final bottle, which appeared to be full of a black powder not unlike charcoal. She took the smallest pinch from that and sprinkled it in. “Cafilan,” she intoned, and steam rose from the bubbling water. The room itself seemed to grow ten degrees warmer, fog collecting against the window and turning it opaque.
“Do you intend to cook us?” Jane asked, truly only half-joking. But the fact that she could find the courage to make such a quip was probably heartening. The scent of the flowers was comforting, and even the steam filling the room was not entirely unpleasant. It wrapped around Jane’s shoulders like a shawl.
Adelaide let out a quiet laugh. “It’s not that warm.” She unbuttoned her blouse and threw it carelessly to the side, stepping out of her skirt in a move that had altogether more hip movement than was strictly necessary. The look she gave over her shoulder was positively sultry, all heavy lids and raised brows.
“Baths are better without clothes on, you know.”
It appeared that comforting was not all that Adelaide had planned. But Jane couldn’t say that she minded. Being held by Adelaide, caressed and touched, sounded like a wonderful reprieve from her thoughts. Besides, with the sharp angles of Adelaide’s hips and the slight, firm swell of her breasts on display, it was easier to ignore what the monsters had whispered in her ear.
And besides, what did they know? They were beasts. This was Adelaide. Her Adelaide.
Jane took off her own dress, folding it and hanging it carefully on the chair by the door. While she undressed fully, Adelaide slipped into the water, letting out a sigh of contentment. Her dark hair hung over the lip of the tub like a glossy curtain, and although a faint flush crept up her collarbones, Jane saw no signs of injury or boiling alive. Carefully, she slipped into the tub on the opposite side.
“Oh.” With no further hesitation, she sat down, submerging her body up to the shoulders. The warm water was blissful, removing knots from muscles she hadn’t even known were present. Even the ache in her side from the beast’s attack, so constant that she hardly even thought about it anymore, seemed to dull for a moment.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Adelaide smiled over at her.
“It is.” Jane leaned against the opposite wall of the tub, letting her limbs stretch out. “Thank you.”
“Well.” Adelaide’s face flushed, and this time Jane wasn’t sure that it was entirely from the heat. “I’m not always good at… saying things that are comforting. But I thought… I could at least do something comforting for you.”
The words prickled at Jane’s heart. “I’m sorry.”
“You were upset. I could have handled things better.”
“I could have handled things better,” Jane said. “What the beasts said—those awful things—I shouldn’t have taken them out on you. It’s not fair.”
Adelaide looked at her levelly over the water. “Do you want to tell me what they said?”
And for a moment, Jane imagined it. Imagined laying bare every fear that they had plucked from her mind to taunt her with. She imagined going over each one and laying it to rest.
But they were already laid to rest. Here, now, with Adelaide, she didn’t care about what they said anymore. “I just want to forget them,” she said, her voice decisive.
Adelaide nodded. “Very well.” A smile curled up her face, decidedly wicked. “I could help you forget them, you know. With far more than just a bath.”
Jane was struck, all at once, by how close the other woman was.
The bath was large, but not that large. Their legs pressed against each other as they sat at opposite ends, Adelaide’s foot resting companionably against Jane’s hip. Jane shivered, a coil of longing curling up her spine. “What did you have in mind?”
“Would you like to come over here and find out?”
Adelaide opened her arms. Jane drifted into them, the water lending a feeling of dreamy weightlessness to the desire stoking to life inside of her. When Adelaide’s arms closed around her waist, she gasped. “You’re so warm.” Adelaide was always warm, but this was like comparing a candle to a fireplace.
“Mmmm.” Adelaide pressed her lips to Jane’s neck, letting the affirmative noise rumble through her. “Must be indicative of my warm heart?”
Jane uttered a breathless little laugh, but it turned into a gasp as Adelaide’s hand found her breast and kneaded there. The water turned her touch as smooth as silk.
“I love it when you make that sound,” Adelaide purred against her skin. “When you forget yourself.”
In that moment, forgetting herself was all Jane wanted to do. She wanted to lose herself in Adelaide. She pressed their bodies together, knees locked tight to Adelaide’s hips. She grabbed her face in both hands and tilted it up, pressing their lips together until the steam made her head spin.
Adelaide seemed just as hungry for her. She wrapped her arms tightly around her, fingertips curling into her shoulder blades. When Jane’s hand travelled up her thigh, she let out a low moan in Jane’s mouth.
“Jane,” she gasped. “I have a thought.”
Jane’s hand paused on Adelaide’s thigh, heart hammering in her chest. “Yes?”
“There’s… another magic I can add to this bath. A blend that heightens… certain sensations.”
It didn’t take Jane long to realize what Adelaide meant. Anticipation thrummed in her pulse. “Do it.”
Adelaide nodded, smiling. “I thought you’d like the idea.”
She stood enough to reach the cabinet above, water sluicing off of her lean, toned body. She grabbed a jar and threw a handful of frothy-looking goop into the bath.
Immediately, the water came to life around them, and Jane gasped at the initial sensation of water sliding against her. She shivered, waiting for pleasure to overtake her… but there was nothing. The water slid against her skin as though being propelled by a motor. Far from unpleasant, but hardly the implied effect.
Adelaide stood, the water coming up to her knees. “That… was the wrong jar.” She stared at the now-frothing water, a bit nonplussed. “Damn.”
A long silence stretched between them. Then Jane rocked back at her side of the tub, laughing. The warm air around her felt delightful pulled into her lungs, even as her stomach muscles began to ache.
Adelaide rolled her eyes, but she was grinning, too. “Well, don’t worry, it won’t make this any less enjoyable.” She grabbed another jar, inspecting it with exaggerated care before pulling a handful of what looked like dried rose petals into her hand. She slid back into the water, holding them out. “Are you ready?”
Jane let her fingertips skim along the upturned underside of Adelaide’s arm, down to the soft sk
in of her wrist. All thoughts of beasts and doubts had fled her mind. There was just Adelaide, here in this living water beside her, and the sounds of joy still echoing on the perfumed air.
Gently, she grabbed Adelaide by the wrist and tipped her hand, letting the dusky red petals fall into the water. They floated in the frothing, bubbling water for a moment, then dissolved.
“Oh—oh.” Warmth coursed up Jane’s legs, tingled along the backs of her thighs, and throbbed between them. She pulled in a breath to say something, but all that she managed was a strangled sort of moan. She needed release.
“Jane,” Adelaide gasped, reaching for her. Jane flung herself into her arms.
The frothing water did not, in fact, hinder their enjoyment. If anything, it enhanced it. Jane felt as though she were floating, as though the bath had quadrupled in size and she and Adelaide were set adrift in it, clinging to each other. Their bodies crashed into each other, and when Adelaide’s thigh grazed between her legs, even that light contact made her shout.
“Here—here.” Adelaide leaned against the back of the tub, pulling Jane to drift into her lap. Her thigh was still perched achingly between Jane’s legs. “Move yours like—oh.” When Jane slotted her own leg into a similar position, Adelaide jerked. “Yes.”
They began to rock against each other, the frothing water and the dissolved petals doing half of the work for them. Adelaide wrapped her arms around Jane, and when she pressed her face to Jane’s chest, Jane grabbed her by the back of the head to hold her there more firmly, to better piston her hips against the slick warmth of Adelaide’s skin.
“Ad—Adelaide.”
Adelaide mumbled something, a muffled sob against her skin that might have been her name. It trembled through her like a hurricane, every bit as turbulent as the water frothing around them.
Jane’s release began to build in her, warm and bursting, dragging ragged breath from the very depths of her chest. She pressed harder and faster against Adelaide, chasing it. And when it came, although it was more powerful than even that night by the fire, it didn’t leave her with a tired satisfaction as it had before—only more desire, urged on by magic.
So she reached for it. Every plateau that she reached revealed another, just hidden in the mist. Beneath her, Adelaide was writhing, clearly just as desperate for pleasure as she was. She dug her nails into Adelaide’s back, making her cry out and spasm; just the sight of it caused her to soar into yet another release. She felt as though she might tremble out of her skin.
“Jane!” Adelaide cried out her name, again and again. And Jane responded in kind, until her voice went hoarse.
Adelaide slipped a finger inside of her, then another. Jane found the sensitive spot above Adelaide’s entrance and rubbed. Together they cried out, and a final release sent Jane tumbling into a sweet warmth, like falling into a pile of white petals that blotted out everything else.
When she came back into herself, Adelaide was holding her, one hand limply stroking her back. Jane turned to look at her, catching a tired gaze full of such love and tenderness that it filled her with a warmth utterly different than before, fire and embers.
“We’re going to be… a sight… if we stay in here too long,” Adelaide panted.
Perhaps that was so, but Jane couldn’t manage more than a hoarse, sleepy hum. Her mind had been rendered pleasantly blank, her nerve endings tingling with leftover pleasure. The frothing water around them seemed to almost be rocking them back and forth. She tucked her head into Adelaide’s shoulder, and closed her eyes, soaking in the softness of her skin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Future Discussed
“THE SUNSET IS beautiful here,” Jane said.
She stared out over the cliff’s edge. Below sat a sea so blue that it almost hurt to look at, sparking like a sapphire. Palm trees waved in the slight breeze.
An arm dropped over Jane’s shoulder. Adelaide was there, looking fetching in a cream-colored blouse knotted above her belly-button to reveal the smooth line of her stomach. A dark skirt tied about her waist. “It is, isn’t it, dear?”
Jane leaned happily into her embrace. Together, they watched the sun set over the impossibly blue water.
Jane woke slowly, the peaceful feeling of the dream lingering in her heart. Or maybe it was just the after-effects of what she and Adelaide had gotten up to. She sat up, stretching. Late afternoon light filtered through the window, a dusky orange not all that far off from the sunset she’d dreamed about. She was naked, but dry—she vaguely remembered drying off, half-asleep, before getting into bed.
She tied a dressing gown about her waist and walked into the living room. Adelaide sat reading by the fire, Cabula purring on her lap. She looked up when Jane walked in. “Good morning. Or evening, as it were.”
Jane yawned, stretching. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late.”
“It was only a few hours. And you needed it, after the night you had. Do you feel better?”
The beasts had almost completely disappeared from Jane’s mind. The realization made her smile. “Yes. Thank you.” She walked behind Adelaide’s chair to press a kiss to the top of her head. “You were wonderful.”
“Not too much?” Worry tinged the faintest corner of Adelaide’s expression.
“Exactly enough,” Jane assured her. “I needed that.”
Adelaide hummed, turning back to her book. Jane watched her for a moment, remembering her dream. She didn’t actually think that was possible—it felt too far away, unreal and unreachable. But surely something like that was? Her fears told her that she only had two choices: the hut in the forest or the town without her love. But there was a whole world out there for them.
“Adelaide,” she said.
Adelaide glanced up, marking her place in her book with her finger. “Hm?”
Jane sat, the fire warming her back. “Have you ever seriously thought about… traveling somewhere? Since your mother left, I mean.”
Adelaide’s gaze turned distant for a moment. “Perhaps sometimes… but I never have. Others travel and bring me goods from far regions. That is enough for me.”
“But it must be incredibly lonely.” Jane reached out, nervous hands scooping Cabula into her lap. “You said yourself that other places aren’t as discriminatory towards magic as the people here. I know you love the forest, but have you ever considered living somewhere else? Somewhere close enough to come visit, maybe, but among people?”
Adelaide gave a quiet huff. “Among people who would smile kindly at me only to curse my name the second I left? Or, no, maybe that is too harsh. Perhaps they would only roll their eyes or share knowing looks the second I didn’t behave according to their rules.”
Jane frowned a little. “Better to cut yourself off from everyone?”
“I haven’t cut myself off from everyone!” Adelaide snapped, voice raising. Jane startled, and Adelaide took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself. “I had my mother, for a long time. And then I had the people who came to me. And now I have you. People who I get to see on my terms, in my own way. That’s enough for me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”
“It must be nice, to be so sure.” Jane spoke almost idly, but she heard how it sounded the second it came out of her mouth. She released the cat, leaning forward to take Adelaide’s hand instead. “The only thing I’m sure about—the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be sure about—is you.”
Adelaide hummed, pulling Jane in so that she sat in her lap with her back pressed flush against Adelaide’s chest. “You’ll come to love it,” she promised. “Once you see the beauty of the forest, of this place. It’s my family’s place, and you’re a part of that now.”
Jane chewed on the inside of her cheek. The cabin was lovely. But it was also small, and quiet, and the forest beyond was frightening and strange. She had Adelaide, and that was wonderful. She meant what she said. She didn’t want to go back to the life she had before.
But did she
want this?
“Maybe there’s an island of people like you,” Jane said. “An island full of blunt, secretly kind people who you don’t have to worry about offending.” She said it in a light, joking tone—with a jolt, she realized that she was using the same voice that she used with William when he was making her uncomfortable. A voice that said, I would never challenge you. I would never make you doubt yourself. My opinion is different from yours, but please don’t let that trouble you.
She didn’t want to be like that with Adelaide. She wanted to be honest with her, just as she promised. But the idea of telling Adelaide what she truly thought was terrifying.
“Gods above, I hope not,” Adelaide said, equally joking. Her voice rumbled pleasantly against Jane’s spine. “You might fall for one of them instead.”
Jane laughed, relaxing into Adelaide’s arms. “I don’t want to fall for anyone else.” She said it firm, with as much confidence as she could muster. It was what she wanted to believe, with all of her heart. No one else made her feel like Adelaide did. No one else made her heart rush and her pulse race. No one else made her feel so powerful, so free.
But she couldn’t get the taunts of the beasts out of her mind. And she couldn’t forget how easy it had been, just now, to slip into the people-pleasing politeness that she used to survive the worst parts of home. The same politeness she shouldn’t have needed to use on Adelaide.
“Jane.”
Adelaide’s voice was so grave that for a moment, Jane feared that she had spoken aloud. That fear felt like a real, physical thing, something that tasted like copper squeezed between her clenched teeth.
“Jane, look at me.”
Jane turned, not without a fair bit of hesitance. Adelaide’s face was as grave as her voice. She reached out with fingertips that were featherlight, brushing against Jane’s cheek.
“What brought all of this on?”
“I don’t know.” Was it truly a lie? Her own heart seemed confused, vacillating wildly from one extreme to the next. “I was simply curious, I suppose.”
