In the morning, I wake to find us covered, Sandi still clinging to me as if my body is her lifeline. I carefully slip from her embrace and make my way into the shower, letting the mirror stare back—bewildered, matching the creature reflected within it. “Where did you come from?” I whisper to her, to myself.

The water brings me back, settling my mind. I’m half-lost in thought when I sense Sandi behind me. “Elena, allow me.” She steps in, soaping my body—every nook and cranny—lingering at my breasts before her hand finds its way between my legs, scrubbing with unnecessary thoroughness.

She turns me to face her, and as I gasp at the patchwork of bruises and scars on her skin in the bathroom light, she silences me with a demanding kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth so deeply I can’t help but moan.

She pulls me closer, pressing her breasts to mine, her mouth hot at my ear: “The goddess still has patience?”