Page 2 of Can’t Get No Satyrfaction (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

CHAPTER 2

T horn scowled down at the ridiculously small human female sitting next to the creek. Dark auburn hair had escaped from a ponytail to form a disheveled mane around a pretty, oval face dominated by two huge blue eyes. A pink t-shirt clung enticingly to slender curves and faded denim shorts revealed entirely too much bare, curvy leg.

His nostrils flared as a sweetly seductive scent drifted up towards him, and he had the sudden impulse to bend down and breathe in more of that enticing scent. Nonsense. He had no interest in human females.

“What are you doing here?” he growled again, annoyed by his reaction.

Her lips parted as she returned his gaze, and she licked them nervously. He found himself tracking that movement, wondering if she tasted as sweet as she smelled, and immediately wanted to slap himself for that stupidity.

Humans were dangerous, not sweet—with the possible exception of his nephew’s mate who, at least so far, had proven to be an exception. Over the years he’d met a few other humans he could tolerate, but on the whole he neither liked nor trusted them.

“Well?” he demanded when she didn’t answer.

“I-I…” Her expression suddenly changed as Bront entered the clearing, and he swore under his breath. He’d told his dog to remain behind but, not unusually, Bront had decided to ignore him.

“Fluffy,” the female cried, a delighted smile crossing her face, and he felt an unreasonable annoyance that the smile was directed at his dog rather than at him. “You did come back. Is this the help I asked you to bring?”

She gave him a doubtful look as Bront dropped his heads into her lap and nudged her hand. To his shock, she immediately began cooing over the dog and scratching him behind the ears as his tail whipped ecstatically. Fluffy?

“My dog’s name is Bront.”

“Are you sure?” she had the nerve to ask. “He seemed to like it when I called him Fluffy.”

To his annoyance, Bront panted amiably and nudged her hand again.

“I know my own dog’s name,” he snapped.

“If you say so,” she looked up at him, still smiling. “Did he get you to come and help me?”

The dog had indeed urged him in this direction, but he ignored her question.

“Why do you need help? You shouldn’t even be here.”

Her small shoulders straightened as she gave him what she undoubtedly thought was a fierce expression. Instead she looked rather like an enraged kitten.

“I have every right to be here. Wild Haven magazine arranged for me to be allowed into the forest for the next week to take photographs.”

“I would have been notified if someone had been allowed permission to enter—” He broke off as he suddenly remembered the message he’d received. “You’re S. Hartman?”

“Yes. Don’t tell me. Let me guess—you assumed I was a man?”

“They usually are.”

His scowl deepened. He hadn’t liked the idea at the time and he liked it even less now. He disliked having humans in his domain, and he disliked the idea that the visitor would be taking photographs even more. The fact that S. Hartman was a small, sweet-smelling female did nothing to change his opinion.

“If you don’t believe me, see for yourself,” she said, reaching for the backpack sitting next to her, then winced.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He abandoned his questions about her presence in the Elderwood, dropping down on his haunches next to her.

“It’s my feet. They got caught in these vines, and they tighten when I move too much.”

She gestured at her legs, and he swore under his breath, anger surging through him at the sight of those delicate ankles ensnared in the vicious vines. He hadn’t smelled blood when he came to join her, and fortunately the vines didn’t appear to have broken the skin yet. But when he ran his hands over her ankles, he could tell they were beginning to swell slightly despite the somewhat dubious protection of her ridiculous footwear.

“I’m going to free you. Don’t move.” Her eyes widened as she stared up at him, and he sighed. “Just stay still, little female. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I trust you,” she said softly, and he shot her a startled glance, unexpectedly gratified by her statement.

“You do? Why?”

“I’m a good judge of character. And besides, Fluffy trusts you.”

Her trust in him was because of his dog? He gave an annoyed grunt as he ran his fingers along the vines and commanded them to release. They obeyed, slithering back into the earth, and she gave him another wide-eyed look.

“How did you do that?”

“I am a satyr and the Guardian of the Elderwood. The plants obey me.”

“That must be helpful. Thank you,” she added as she stretched out her legs and wiggled her feet. “That’s so much better. I was beginning to think I was going to be stuck here all night.”

“You wouldn’t have been stuck here if you hadn’t been foolish enough to let the vines trap you to begin with. What on Earth were you thinking?” How had humans survived long enough to become the most dominant species on the planet?

“I didn’t know they were there. I just sat down to take a break and have a snack.”

“The scent of food often attracts the wrong type of visitor,” he said sternly.

“I thought that only applied to things like bears, not vines.”

“Not in the Elderwood. This is not a tame forest.”

“I can see that.” She gave him a teasing smile and gods help him, he almost smiled back. Then she bent over and loosened the top of her boots. “They look a little swollen.”

“Let me see,” he said gruffly. He pushed down her socks and carefully put his hands around her ankles.

Even slightly swollen, they were impossibly small, her skin like the finest silk beneath his hands as he probed gently at the joints.

“Just a little bruised,” he told her. “You were lucky.”

Eventually the vines would have contracted to the point of breaking her ankles, then slowly crept up over the rest of her body, gradually paralyzing her.

“Are you sure they’re all right?” she asked doubtfully.

Why did she insist on questioning everything he said? And why did he find it more endearing than annoying?

“Of course I’m sure,” he said.

“But you’re not a doctor, are you?”

“I frequently take care of wounded animals.”

“Well that’s nice, but I’m not an animal,” she huffed, and he almost smiled once again.

“The anatomy is not that different.”

Except that none of the animals he treated had such soft, delicate skin or such deliciously curved legs.

Fuck. He gave himself another mental slap and concentrated on the injury.

“It would be best to wrap them. I don’t suppose you have a first aid kit?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have band-aids, mosquito repellent, and suntan lotion. And matches,” she added hopefully.

“None of which are remotely useful in this situation. How could you be so ill-prepared to venture into the woods?”

“You’re not carrying a first aid kit either,” she pointed out.

“I’m also not the one who was foolish enough to be caught by the vines.”

He could tell she was about to continue the argument, but then her face relaxed and she laughed.

“Fair enough. But I think they’ll be fine. I can just lace my boots tightly enough to support them.”

“I’ll do it,” he said reluctantly. “And before you ask, yes, I do know how,” he added when her mouth opened.

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was just going to say thank you.”

She smiled at him again, a warm smile that created an unexpected corresponding warmth in his chest before he hastily shoved it aside. He pulled up her socks, folding them down to form a double layer at the top of her boots, then firmly tied the boots back into place. She paled again but didn’t complain, and smiled at him once he was finished.

“Can you stand?” he asked as he rose.

He offered her his hand, and she took it readily enough. The grip of those small fingers in his was surprisingly satisfying. Annoyed at the thought, he hauled her to her feet a little too quickly. He misjudged the strength of his grip and she ended up stumbling awkwardly against his chest. He didn’t quite manage to repress a shiver of awareness at the feel of that tempting little body. She was so small and defenseless, and the soft curves pressed against him made him want to tighten his arms around her.

She felt so right there, as if she belonged in his arms. Don’t be ridiculous , he told himself, and hastily stepped back. His hands lingered on her waist a moment longer—just to make sure that she was steady on her feet, not because he enjoyed the feel of that gentle curve beneath his hands. She swayed a little and put her hand on his arm to balance herself. Even that small touch burned his skin, and he fought to stay still.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “My legs gave out.”

“I could have told you that would happen,” he said, but he covered her hand with his own much larger one. “Can you walk?”

Still holding his arm for balance, she took an experimental step, then another, then nodded optimistically as she released him.

“Yep. Thank you, Guardian.”

“Thorn,” he corrected automatically.

“I’m Sylvie.”

Her bright smile caught him off guard. Most humans had no interest in his name. But this one? She beamed like he’d offered her a gift. The sooner she was out of reach the better.

“Do you know the way back to your car?” he growled.

She blinked up at him, looking adorably confused. No. Humans weren’t adorable.

“Yes. Why?”

“So you can return to your car and leave before you run into any more danger.”

Her small shoulders straightened as she raised her chin defiantly

“I’m not going back to my car.”

“You are not equipped to survive in the Elderwood. What would have happened if I hadn’t come along?”

“Technically, you didn’t come along, Fluffy came along.”

“You mean Bront came along.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and he tried not to find it charming.

“Fine, Bront. But my point is, I would have gotten out of here somehow, sooner or later. Everything always turns out all right in the end,” she assured him with a sunny smile.

“No, it doesn’t.”

He intended for the words to come out as matter of fact. Instead, they carried the weight of his own pain and loss, and her expression immediately softened. She took a step towards him and put her hand on his arm again, those small fingers impossibly delicate against the hard muscles of his forearm.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t stop hoping, or even expecting that it will. Someone who expects that good things will happen is far more likely to have them happen to her than someone who does not.”

“I don’t believe in that nonsense,” he snapped, unsettled both by her attempt to comfort him and the feel of her fingers against his skin.

“You don’t believe in the power of magical thinking when you live in the middle of a magical forest?” She shook her head and laughed. “But that’s all right, you don’t have to believe, I believe.”

She bent down to pick up her backpack and he hastily averted his eyes from the faded denim drawing taut across her pretty little ass. Pretty? He didn’t find humans pretty—most of the time, anyway. He could admit that there were a few, a very few, exceptions.

And Sylvie is one of them , his traitorous thoughts whispered, but he ignored them. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her.

“You should return to your car,” he repeated. “If you do not, I am not responsible for any harm that may befall you.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “You’ve done your duty and warned me off. I’ll do my best not to fall into the clutches of any more sneaky vines.”

“The vines are not the only danger in the Elderwood.”

“I’m sure they probably aren’t. If you’re that worried, you could always come along and show me yourself.”

For one brief instant, he almost agreed. No. She was human, and he was most certainly not. They did not belong together. If she chose to endanger herself, then that was her decision.

“I will not be accompanying you,” he said firmly, but she only nodded and he bit back a growl as he turned to his dog. “Bront, time to leave.”

The middle head gave him a speculative look, but the other two were blissfully enjoying their scratches and didn’t even bother to open their eyes.

“Come,” he ordered.

“Do you think he’s that bossy with women as well?” she muttered into one of the dog’s ears, but he had excellent hearing and he heard every word. Did she mean… No. he hastily tried to force his thoughts in a different direction.

She looked up and gave him an innocent smile as she patted the dog’s big heads one more time. With a last reluctant nudge at Sylvie’s hand, Bront finally obeyed him, but he was clearly unhappy as he followed him back into the undergrowth, and he tried to convince himself that he was not equally as reluctant to leave her.