The Keeper's Tide

Mara bucked against her hand, her nails digging into Elara’s shoulders. Her head fell back, her lips parting on a silent scream of pleasure. She was tight, so tight, and hot despite the chill of her skin. Elara worked her fingers deeper, harder, her thumb never ceasing its relentless assault on Mara’s clit.

"Elara…!" Mara keened, her body trembling on the edge. "Don’t stop… don’t ever stop…"

Elara had no intention of stopping. She claimed Mara’s mouth again, swallowing her cries, as she drove her over the brink. Mara came apart in her arms, her body shuddering, her inner muscles clamping down on Elara’s fingers like a vise. Her pleasure was a tangible thing, a wave that crashed over them both, leaving Elara gasping in its wake.

But Mara wasn’t done with her. Before Elara could catch her breath, Mara dropped to her knees before her. Her hands slid up Elara’s thighs, pushing them apart. Her fingers hooked in the waistband of Elara’s panties, dragging them down her legs.

Elara’s breath hitched, her heart pounding against her ribs. She stared down at Mara, at the dark head bent between her thighs, and thought she might die from wanting.

Mara leaned in, her cold breath gusting over Elara’s heated core. She inhaled deeply, a low hum of appreciation vibrating in her throat. "You smell like sunlight," she murmured, her lips brushing Elara’s curls. "Like life…"

And then her tongue was on her, cold and wet and impossibly skilled. Elara cried out, her hands flying to Mara’s hair, holding her close. Mara licked her like an ice cream cone, savoring her, her tongue tracing every fold, every secret place. She found Elara’s clit, swirling around it with the tip of her tongue before sucking it into her mouth.

Elara’s knees buckled. Only Mara’s hands on her hips held her upright, fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise. Mara sucked harder, her tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves, driving Elara higher, hotter. She slid a finger inside her, then two, pumping them in time with the suction of her mouth.

Elara was lost. The world narrowed to the point of contact between them, to the cold fire of Mara’s mouth and the relentless thrust of her fingers. The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter, until it shattered, hurling her over the edge into oblivion.

She came with a scream, her body convulsing, her vision whiting out. Pleasure crashed through her, a tidal wave that swept away all thought, all reason. She was drowning in it, in Mara, and she never wanted to surface.

Mara didn’t stop. She worked Elara through her climax, her tongue and fingers wringing every last shudder of pleasure from her body. Only when Elara sagged against the wall, boneless and spent, did she pull back.

She stood, her body sliding against Elara’s, cool and slick with the evidence of Elara’s desire. She kissed her, deep and filthy, sharing her taste. "You’re mine now," she breathed against Elara’s lips. "For as long as the tide allows…"

Elara didn’t have the strength to argue. She let Mara lead her to the narrow cot, let her lay her down on the rough wool blanket. Mara crawled over her, her hair falling around them like a curtain. Her hips settled in the cradle of Elara’s thighs, her slick folds sliding against Elara’s still-sensitive clit.

Elara moaned, her hands finding Mara’s hips, pulling her closer. Mara began to move, a slow, sensual grind that had Elara’s breath catching in her throat. She braced her hands on either side of Elara’s head, her eyes locked on hers, dark and hungry.

They moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm as old as the sea. The cot creaked beneath them, the sound loud in the quiet of the cottage. The fog pressed against the windows, cocooning them in their own world. Nothing existed but the slide of skin on skin, the mingled gasps of their breath, the relentless build of pleasure.

Mara’s pace quickened, her hips rolling faster, harder. Elara met her thrust for thrust, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of Mara’s ass. The pressure coiled inside her again, tighter, hotter, threatening to break her apart.

Mara leaned down, her lips brushing Elara’s ear. "Come for me," she whispered, her voice rough with desire. "Come with me…"

And like that, Elara was lost. The wave crested, dragging her under. She came with a cry, her body bowing off the cot, her nails scoring Mara’s back. Mara followed a heartbeat later, her walls clamping down on Elara’s as she shuddered through her own release.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and heaving breath. Mara’s weight was a comfort, her skin cool against Elara’s overheated flesh. Elara held her close, her face buried in Mara’s hair, breathing in the scent of salt and deep places.

The tide was still rising outside, the waves crashing against the rocks with increasing fury. But here, in the circle of Mara’s arms, Elara felt safe. Sheltered. As if nothing could touch her, not even the dead.

She should have known better.

The tide was still rising outside, the waves crashing against the rocks with increasing fury. But here, in the circle of Mara’s arms, Elara felt safe. Sheltered. As if nothing could touch her, not even the dead.

She should have known better.

The first warning was the change in the air. The warmth that had cradled them began to leach away, replaced by a creeping chill that had nothing to do with the fog. It raised goosebumps on Elara’s skin, a primal warning that prickled along her spine.

Mara stirred against her, her weight shifting. The coolness of her skin seemed to deepen, taking on a clammy, damp quality that hadn’t been there before. Elara shivered, a thread of unease worming its way through her post-coital haze.

"Mara…?" she murmured, her voice still rough with pleasure.

Mara didn’t answer. Her body tensed, muscles coiling and bunching beneath her skin. A low sound vibrated in her throat, a guttural hum that prickled the hairs on Elara’s arms.

The second warning was the smell. The salt-and-decay scent of her deepened, thickening into a briny reek that stung Elara’s nostrils. It was the smell of low tide, of things left too long in the sun, of deep places where light never reached.

Elara tried to pull back, to put space between them, but Mara’s arms tightened around her like a vise. Her grip was impossibly strong, crushing the air from Elara’s lungs.

"Mara, you’re hurting me," Elara gasped, panic sharpening her voice. She pushed at Mara’s shoulders, but it was like pushing against stone. Mara didn’t budge.

Instead, she began to change.

It started subtlely. The texture of her skin roughened, taking on a scaled, pebbled quality. The pale glow that had illuminated her flesh faded, replaced by a mottled pattern of greys and greens, like wet river stones. Her hair seemed to writhe against Elara’s skin, coarse and damp, smelling of seaweed and stagnant pools.

Elara’s breath seized in her throat. She thrashed in Mara’s grip, her nails digging into Mara’s skin hard enough to draw blood. Or it would have, if Mara’s skin had still been human.

The skin beneath Elara’s nails ripped with a wet, tearing sound, revealing not muscle and bone, but something else. Something that glistened a pale, fish-belly white, threaded through with dark, ropey veins.

Elara screamed.

Mara’s head lifted from Elara’s shoulder. Her eyes met Elara’s, but they weren’t the dark, hungry eyes of her lover. They were flat, black, and depthless, like a shark’s eyes, with no whites to be seen. Her mouth opened, but the lips had changed, grown thicker, darker, peeling back to reveal rows of jagged, needle-sharp teeth.

The face Elara had kissed, had lost herself in, began to melt and run like candle wax. The bones shifted beneath the skin, elongating into something alien and wrong. The jaw thrust forward, the nose flattening into slits, the forehead sloping back into a bulbous, misshapen skull.

Elara’s scream died into a choked whimper. She kicked and clawed, scrabbling for purchase against the cot’s rough blanket, but Mara held her fast. The thing that had been Mara loomed over her, its breath reeking of dead things and salt, its black eyes fixed on her with a terrible, alien hunger.

The third warning was the tide.

A wave crashed against the cottage with a sound like thunder, shaking the very foundations of the stone walls. Water, icy and briny, flooded under the door, swirling around the legs of the cot, soaking into the blanket.

The thing that had been Mara threw back its head and laughed, a wet, gurgling sound that echoed the churning sea. Its hands on Elara’s body were webbed now, the fingers ending in sharp, curved claws that pricked at her skin.