A/N: Alright guys, here's a longer update for you! Don't forget to review! Every new review encourages me to write and update faster!

Love you all, enjoy!

I woke up in a bed I didn't recognize, an arm wrapped loosely around my waist, and a body pressed tightly to my back.

This, normally, wouldn't be a bad way for most people to wake up. But as my heart rate accelerates, as I breathe out and in, my pulse quickening through my body, I feel a sense of dread come over me.

I don't remember falling asleep.

I certainly don't remember falling asleep next to someone.

I glance up at the ceiling, cast a cursory glance around the room.

I'm in someone else's bed and someone else's room.

Yes, I know I'd had a bit to drink last night. I remember that much, at least. But I can't remember much else yet, as the waves of hangover start to wash over me with slow but insistent chills. I stare down at what I can see of the arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

The soft, flowing curve of her skin is a welcome, lovely sight…but I don't recognize that arm. Her limb is cold against my stomach—I'm wearing a shirt, but it has ridden up slightly in sleep, which lead to her skin being pressed against mine.

I shiver a little as I take a deep breath, realizing how cold the body is against my back. She is curved against me tightly, spooning me like this is the most natural thing in the world.

Not the most unexpected.

A voice makes a small murmur in her sleep, the tone a low, pleasant growl, and there is finally some spark of recognition.

I take a deep breath.

I recognize that voice.

I remember.

I am in bed with Elsa.

I roll over a little onto my side and turn to look at her over my shoulder.

Elsa Mills is, thankfully, still fast asleep as my head spins and I try, desperately, to make sense of what might have happened to me last night. Elsa is wearing a white tank top that shows off her sculpted, muscular shoulders, drawing my eyes down her lithe, long frame.

I bite my lip as I breathe out softly, taking in the closeness of her, the sharp, chill scent of her skin and the lingering sweet smoke of the cigars she likes.

My eyes travel her length, even as my mind tries to grapple with why I am here. I try, desperately, to remember.

In sleep, Elsa doesn't look nearly as hard as she is when awake, with her sarcastic, sideways smile, and her eyes narrowed as she delivers scathing one-liners.

Here, asleep, her face is softer, her long lashes resting gently against her cold, pale cheekbones.

Those lashes flutter just then, as if she's having a dream. Her soft lips are parted, her breath coming in a low, easy rhythm, breath that carries that sweet, lingering tobacco.

My blood is starting to pound even quicker through me. Frankly, Elsa looks gorgeous lying there. Gorgeous and…disheveled. Her long, shiny, blonde hair lay tousled around her face.

Maybe she tossed and turned a lot during the night.

Or maybe we'd slept together?

Blood rushes to my cheeks as I consider that possibility.

God, I honestly can't remember, and this is crazy.

Why the hell can't I remember if I'd slept with this gorgeous creature?

Okay.

I take a deep breath, wrack my brains while my pulse roars through me and I try desperately to remember absolutely everything I can about the previous evening.

There had been the cocktail party last night—complete with me wearing that ridiculous maid outfit that Elsa had commissioned for the servers to wear. The poufy, frilly, too-short-for-anyone dress is now hanging off the edge of the foot bedpost.

I pluck at the thin fabric covering my chest. I must be wearing one of Elsa's tank tops, because it certainly isn't mine. I tug it down a little over my underwear as I stare over my shoulder at Elsa again with a small grimace.

I'm, of course, not wearing pants.

Just underwear.

But I am still wearing underwear… Think, Emma!

I remember Regina telling me I should stay at the Mills Hotel. With cold dread, I remember her indifference as she'd turned away from me. Of her piercing brown eyes that pinned me to the spot when she found me and Elsa together, Elsa's arms wrapping around me as she leaned closer, as our mouths met. Regina had found Elsa and me locked in an embrace…and kissing.

I sigh and run a hand through my long, tangled blonde hair as I piece the previous night together, dread beginning to grow in me.

There is no specific reason for that dread. After all, I can stay at the Hotel now, Danielle be damned. She couldn't tell me to leave because Regina had overruled her, and Regina—as owner of the Mills Hotel—certainly had the last word.

So this meant at least—for the time being—my job is secured.

But the dread grows in me as I remember Regina's grave face in profile, turning away from Elsa and me, Elsa who was possessively gripping my hips with her long, cold fingers, her mouth at my neck.

Did I sleep with Elsa last night?

Okay, get a grip, I think to myself, willing my heartbeat to slow down, and concentrating on making my breathing more regular.

I've only been terribly, painfully, absurdly drunk about three or four times in my life (I'd been pretty boring in college—I wasn't the party girl type—and then I'd gotten together with Anna, who'd never been much of a drinker), and each of those times, I'd still been able to remember what I'd been up to that previous night. Certainly, I'd wake up the next morning with the most killer headache imaginable, and a stomach that wanted me dead, but at least I'd remember what had happened to me.

I take a deep breath, calming my racing heart and the panic that is rising in me. The anxiety sheds off of me like petals as I take some long, deep, cleansing breaths and as my head slowly began to clear, as I began to relax, it was then—of course—that I remember.

I remember Elsa walking me back to her room, my arm around her shoulder, because after the party had died down and I'd taken the drink trays down to the kitchen, I'd helped myself to the remaining wine in the bottles.

Ruby had told me that the Mills' didn't mind, that they encouraged their employees to partake of everything that was left over from their meetings, get togethers or parties. And that included partaking of as much of the leftover booze that I could stomach.

And because I'd been upset about the situation with Regina and Elsa and Danielle, and what I'd been through that day…I'd had my fair share of that wine. The problem with all of that is that I'm really not the best at holding wine.

So after a couple of deep glasses last night, I'd gotten tipsy and then drunk…terribly drunk, really, as I'd kept playing that look of disappointment on Regina's face over and over again in my mind's eye, and kept pouring myself another glass, even after Ruby told me I should probably stop.

It was a terrible idea, admittedly, to drink when I was that upset, but I'd been too upset to think clearly, and the wine was there, ready to make things just a little softer…and then Elsa had been there, too, appearing out of nowhere in her suit jacket and her sarcastic, gorgeous smile.

And Elsa had helped me to her room.

I think the reason was that the locks are still changed on my door, so, technically, I really didn't have anyplace else to go, and Elsa had wanted to make certain I had someplace.

Or, perhaps, Elsa had just wanted to take me back to her room—and, in all honesty, I had been more than willing to go.

So we went.

Elsa had also helped me out of my absurd maid's outfit, apologizing and chuckling in turns at my outrage over it.

She'd gently pulled me into one of her old tank tops because I was so sore from serving drinks and carrying the heavy drink trays all night that I could hardly get my hands over my head (and, admittedly, too drunk to find the arm holes in the tank top).

I don't remember Elsa's fingers lingering on my skin—it had been done discretely and kindly, her helping me out of that dress and into a shirt, even though I'd been naked in front of her, practically, even though I'd tripped as I'd stepped out of the dress and fallen against her.

She'd helped me upright, her eyes averted, her cold hands at my waist. I remember that much.

And then Elsa had eased me into bed and curled up behind me, her body tight against mine, her arm still around my waist like she was never letting go.

Now, as I lay in Elsa's bed that morning, Elsa still holding me tightly, I stare up at the barren white ceiling of her bedroom and let out a deep breath that I hadn't even realized I'd been holding.

Now, with a clear head that I hadn't done anything stupid while I was drunk, I considered things.

If I slept with Elsa Mills, I wanted it to mean something. I didn't want it to be some stupid one-night stand, or a drunken, fumbling endeavor that was purely meaningless.

I wanted it to be real, to have build up and emotions and…I wanted a relationship with anyone I slept with. I hadn't been with anyone since Anna. I wasn't about to start meaningless sexual dalliances.

But maybe (just maybe), I was actually ready to start another relationship.

I take a deep breath as Regina's face flashes in my mind's eye again, her piercing eyes staring clearly into mine, her chin up and her mouth in a thin, hard line.

But I shouldn't think about Regina anymore, I remind myself - somewhat painfully.

After all, Regina had made it very clear last night that she didn't want me.

And, anyway, she had Danielle back now, her soul mate. She wasn't alone. She had the woman she'd wanted more than anything else on earth.

There is absolutely nothing holding me to Regina anymore, if there had ever been anything to hold me to her.

I watch Elsa breathing slowly, her soft lips parted as she inhales and exhales with a sensual, constant rhythm. Everything Elsa does is sensual, from the act of taking off her hat to rake her fingers through her hair or when she leans against the wall, hands shoved deeply into her pockets as she broods moodily over something.

She practically exudes raw sensuality, grace, ease…she's magnetic, and it's fairly obvious - at least, I was fairly certain - that with that much charm, Elsa has been with a lot of other women.

Coming from that, I'm not certain about what Elsa necessarily wants with me. But as I watch her sleep, I think about what I want with Elsa.

I bite my lip as my gaze trails down her cheek and chin and neck to the low cut of her tank top and the small rise of her breasts.

Beside me, Elsa makes a little grumbling sound in the back of her throat again as her eyelashes flutter, and then she opens her eyes, blinking slowly as her gaze focuses on me.

And in a single instant, a sardonic smile begins to curl her lips up at the corners, a smile that sends a shiver through me.

"Good morning," she growls to me, and then she slowly leans forward, the bed creaking gently beneath her shifting body, as she presses her cold mouth to my bare shoulder.

A shudder races through me, and my heart starts beating quickly all over again.

Her lips are very cold against my skin, but it's a delicious kind of cold, a kind of cold I crave.

Her fingertips move slowly, but with a determined patience, up and under the hem of my tank top.

My body responds quicker than my heart does. I turn over completely, lying on my back as I stare up at her, my heart pounding at a faster rate than my blood can take.

All I know, in this moment, is need.

And I know, in this moment, that if I respond to that need, I'll be making a mistake.

I am still too upset from last night.

I am hung over.

This is not how I want my first time with Elsa to be.

I bite my lip and her fingers pause. She stares down at me, and I realize that her breath is coming faster, her pupils are darker.

She feels it, too. "I just…I need a little time," I manage to tell her.

"I…I really like you, Elsa," I say quietly, as her dark eyes pin me in place for a moment, as she holds my gaze fiercely.

"But so much has happened in the past few days…I don't know if I'm coming or going."

I lick my lips, feel my own disappointment fill me. But, seriously, I don't want it to be like this. I want to be able to brush my teeth and take a really great shower and smell better than spilled wine and I want it to be sexy, not self conscious… Because I know that I do want this.

I want Elsa.

Regina isn't mine, and she never will be.

And I have to start being all right with that fact.

"Give me a little time?" I whisper, holding her gaze. For a long moment, I honestly don't know what she's going to say.

But then a slow smile begins to turn up the corners of her mouth again, and she nods, raising one eyebrow as she lays back down on the bed beside me.

"Of course," she says, her voice a low growl.

But she keeps her fingers beneath the hem of the tank top.

"I want to try this with you, Emma," she says then, and the joking glint in her eyes is gone, the truth of her as clear as day and visible, flashing in her eyes.

There is so much raw sincerity there.

"Take the time you need," she tells me.

I want to roll over and go up on my elbows over her, run my fingers through her hair, bring my mouth to hers. Everything about Elsa is easy like that.

I fiercely hold on to her gaze and try not to think about Regina's sad expression in profile, try not to think about Regina at all.

It's hard.

Regina's shadow is cast over the possibility of Elsa and me.

But we can still make it work, even though I still have feelings for Regina.

Right?

Elsa's fingers slip out from beneath my shirt, and she traces a line up over the fabric to my face, curling her cool fingers around my chin and drawing me to her.

Her mouth meets mine, and for a long, searing moment, I think about absolutely nothing at all.

Instead, I feel everything.

When we break apart, Elsa holds my gaze for a long moment before she raises a single brow and slides effortlessly out from under the sheet and stands at the side of the bed, stretching overhead slowly.

She's wearing a white tank top and black underwear, and I can't help but stare at her muscled back, at the curve down to her rear.

"Do you…work out?" I ask, realizing even as I said it that it's one of the worst pick up lines ever.

She turns to me actually chuckling, and there is nothing hard about her expression—she is genuinely amused by what I'd just asked.

"I'm a vampire," she says, placing a hand on one hip that she had jutted out, curving it toward me so that I can feel a blush rising in my cheeks.

Her underwear are lace, and I am doing my best not to stare at them.

"Vampires don't work out," she says then, chuckling with a smooth shrug. "We retain the body that we had when we became a vampire," she raises her eyebrows and runs a hand down her arm, over the muscles there.

"I worked in the stables when I was bitten, so I was pretty fit."

She leans forward a little, pressing her hands to the mattress as she bends at the waist, her face close to mine.

"I dressed like a boy," she says then with a sexy smirk. "So I was given men's work to do. And I did it."

I realize as I stared up at her at that moment that I don't really know anything about Elsa. I know she is funny and sarcastic and gorgeous, that we were drawn to each other…but I truly wanted to get to know this enigmatic, charming woman. I wanted to know everything about her.

I realize that for some strange reason…there is something very familiar about Elsa. Though I've never met her in my life, it feels like I know her.

Or have known her.

It's such a strange feeling that I push it away, running a hand through my hair absent-mindedly. I have enough to worry about without thinking something that absurd.

It's obvious that there is no way that I could have ever met Elsa before. I put the thought out of my mind.

"I'm on the schedule for today," I tell her, rolling up and out of the bed, feeling my blush intensify as her eyes make no secret about drifting down over my hardly clothed body.

"Anyway," I mutter, clearing my throat, "I'm supposed to cover the front desk until Ruby takes over at five…" I trail off, bite my lip, and build up my courage.

"Do you want to do something after that?" I ask, clearing my throat again. I cough a little into my hand and try to stand not awkwardly.

It's been a really long time since a woman had seen this much of me. My breasts are almost completely visible in this practically see-through tank top, and I am only wearing a pair of cheeky underwear below.

It's different for Elsa, who is wearing much the same clothes. I don't feel confidant, like her, as I stand there, as this gorgeous vampire's eyes are roving over my body like she is memorizing me.

Elsa leans back on her heels and shrugs elegantly.

"Do you like boats?" she asks me then with a wolfish grin.

"I like boats," I reply, feeling the corners of my mouth turn up. Elsa's smiles are completely infectious.

"Well, I have a nice boat," she says, her smirk deepening.

She softens, then, too as she inclines her head toward me.

"I'd like to show you my boat tonight. After the sun sets. Maybe I could take you out, get some stargazing under our belts? Possibly something else under your belt," she says so softly that I wonder if I'd even heard her right, but then she is moving impossibly fast, and she's standing right there in front of me.

And she's hooking her fingers into the band of my panties. She just hooks them there, like you hook fingers into belt loops.

She's pressed against the front of me, her chill body making my arms break out into goose flesh, even as another shiver races through me.

"That…that sounds like it'd be wonderful," I tell her, and I reach my hands up and wrap my fingers around her waist.

I feel her muscles beneath my palms, and something akin to hunger shoots through me.

"Good. Six o'clock," she says quietly, winking at me before stepping back. "Let's meet out front?

"Sure," I say, and I know that my voice squeaks when I say it, but I manage to run a frazzled hand through my hair and take a deep breath. I smile tentatively at her.

This is all so new to me. I have to carefully not think about Regina, and then things are sort of all right. If I don't think about anything, actually, all of my feelings can just kick in.

Yes. I won't think about things.

"You'll have to speak to Regina about getting your lock changed back," says Elsa quietly then.

And all of my thoughts become, inevitably, about Regina.

"Sure," I say, biting my lip as I turn away from her, picking up my maid's outfit from the foot of the bed. I don't want Elsa to see how even the mere mention of Regina's name affects me.

I pluck at the hem of the too-short dress as I shift it from one arm to the other.

"Um…" I realize, glancing down at the thing and very forcefully pushing all thoughts of Regina from my mind.

"I have to go get dressed, get ready for work," I tell her, holding up the flimsy dress from last night.

"I'll head to Ruby's room, but I can't exactly walk up the stairs or the hallways dressed like…um…" I wave down to myself and the tank top and underwear and make a grimace.

"Why not?" Elsa asks, leaning back against her bedpost with another wicked grin. I raise a single eyebrow as I smile at her, shaking my head.

"All right, all right," she mutters with a low chuckle.

"You can borrow whatever you want," she tells me, indicating her large, antique wardrobe with a sweep of her arm. "

Anyway," she says, glancing at the stark clock on the opposite side of the room. Both plain hands of the clock are pointing to seven.

"I've got to get going," she continues with a soft sigh. "We're having a…well, I suppose a meeting," she says, raising her eyebrow as she peels her tank top up and over her shoulders with absolutely no ceremony.

I blush scarlet and stare down at the wooden floor, but not before I've seen her in her entirety. Her breasts are average, her nipples dark, and every curve of her is perfect.

I feel the floor fall out beneath me, because a war has just broken out inside of me.

I've been trying to ignore it and deny it, but it's broken out all the same. My feelings for Regina are violently and bitterly in battle with my feelings for Elsa.

Both women are so utterly different.

How I'd felt for Anna was nothing like how I feel about Regina, and what I feel for Regina is absolutely nothing of how I feel for Elsa.

I had affectionately and fiercely loved Anna.

And, with Regina, there is a bone-deep knowledge that there is something between us.

But, strangely enough, I feel as if there is something between Elsa and I, too.

It's just…different.

I realize, in that moment, that I am feeling very, very confused. I need to figure out what is happening inside of me, try to sort out these millions of strong feelings and figure out what I really want.

I need time alone to myself, to think. But I'm not going to get that. I have to work.

"Thank you," I tell Elsa, then, taking a deep gulp of air as I realize that I haven't yet thanked her for her offer to let me borrow anything in her wardrobe.

I pull the wide wardrobe doors open and began rummaging through her immaculately hung clothes. Each piece of clothing resided on a separate wooden hanger, and it is as neat as a pin inside, everything hanging in one orderly line.

Unsurprisingly, there are only suits lining the walls of the wardrobe.

Elsa comes up behind me, still completely naked on top and only wearing her lace panties, and pulls the drawer open at the bottom of the wardrobe.

"I have other things in here," she says, crouching down beside me.

I hazard a glance at her, at the sculpted shoulders and narrowing in at her waist that was, at once, so strong and yet so feminine. She is still her powerful self, even without a shirt, but there is also a trace of the vulnerability that she showed when she slept.

I liked that.

I liked to know that there was something soft about her, that she wasn't all aggression and sarcasm all the time. That she could even be softer.

Elsa pulls something dark brown with cream colored stripes out of the bottom drawer and stands up, holding it out to me.

I stare at it in shock. It's actually a dress. A dress that can only be described as girly.

There is not a single moment where I assume that Elsa has ever worn this, or that it actually belongs to her. The only other dress I had ever seen her wear could only be described as sexy or sultry.

"How do you have this?" I ask her, taking the garment and being careful to stare at it and not at her. It is a very pretty dress, perhaps the kind that someone might wear out on a picnic, complete with a thin, matching cream belt that I hadn't seen at first, that dangles from the loops at the sides.

"Well…" she says, and trails off, grabbing a shirt off one of the hangers and tossing it over her shoulders, sliding her arms in and beginning to button herself up at the lowest button.

She is taking it slowly, I realize, as she stares at me unblinkingly with flashing blue eyes.

"Someone…left it," she says softly then, the words barely audible.

Then she straightens her shoulders, finishes buttoning the shirt up to her neck.

"I want to be up front with you about things. This time…" she says, leaning forward and taking my hands in her own cold fingers and drawing them up to clasp them tightly to her heart.

"This time is different," she says the words firmly as she stares into my gaze, pinning me to the spot with a dazzling intensity.

Her body is so cold, even beneath the fabric of her shirt, and I can feel my heart pounding through me as my fingers caress her breast as she cups my hands in her own, holding them to her chest.

She leans down then, brushing her cold mouth over the back of my knuckles before she releases my hands.

The dress has fallen to the floor between us, and I crouch down with unseeing eyes, scooping it back up.

I pull it on over my head, over her tank top, and it falls around me, the edge of the tank top just visible at the neckline of the dress.

"Beautiful," she whispers, stepping forward and brushing her cold lips against my cheek before she walks away, sliding her arms into a suit jacket.

I glance down at the fabric of the dress's skirt, touching that fabric with suddenly cold fingers.

The brown of the dress is the exact same brown as Regina's eyes.

"Thank you," I whisper to Elsa, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear as I move into her bathroom.

I shut the door behind me, gripping the edge of the ornate sink and stare at myself in the mirror.

My reflection stares back at me with wide eyes.

I look confused.

Because I am.