Page 22 of Can’t Get No Satyrfaction (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

CHAPTER 22

T horn’s heart thundered against his ribs as he held Sylvie close, her small body warm and comforting against his chest. The metallic scent of blood lingered on his skin, mixed with sweat and the earthy smell of crushed leaves. His hands trembled as he stroked her hair, remembering the savage satisfaction he’d felt while taking down the poachers.

The rush of violence still thrummed through his veins. He’d shown her the monster that lurked beneath his skin—the raw, brutal force he was capable of unleashing. His arms tightened around her instinctively, afraid that she would pull away, but she didn’t shrink from his touch.

Her arms were tight around his waist, her breath warm against his skin, and his initial panic eased. Despite the evidence of his savage nature, she held him without hesitation, and he couldn’t deny it any longer.

I love her.

Gods help him, he loved her more than he’d ever thought possible.

He closed his eyes, breathing in her sweet scent, trying to ground himself in the moment. His knuckles throbbed, his muscles burned, but the pain felt distant compared to the ache blooming in his chest. He loved her so much that he had to let her go.

He took a shuddering breath, then gently unfastened her arms from around his waist and took a step back.

“The forest is safe now if you want to go back.”

Every word felt as if it was torn from his chest but he did his best to keep his voice calm. She frowned up at him, the puzzlement on her face making his chest ache even more.

“Back where?”

“Back to the human world. Out of the Elderwood.”

An expression he couldn’t read crossed her face.

“Why would I want to do that?” she asked softly.

“Because this time it was Bront. Next time it could be you. The Elderwood holds many dangers. And it’s an isolated life. I don’t leave the woods very often—I don’t want to leave. I am the Guardian. My place is here.”

“Are you saying you want me to leave?” Her voice was still soft, big blue eyes focused on his face.

“No!” The denial erupted before he could prevent it, but he took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. “I just want you to understand your choices. To truly understand what being with me would mean. It was selfish of me to ask you to stay without giving you a chance to think about it.”

“What if I’ve already made a decision?”

He shook his head, not entirely sure if he was being brave or cowardly. “I would still say you need to think about it. The forest isn’t going anywhere, and neither am I.”

She looked at him and nodded thoughtfully, and his chest ached. Even though he had just told her to take her time to make her decision, part of him had hoped that she would respond with her usual enthusiasm.

“Very well,” she said. “You’re going to take these men into town?”

“Yes, I’m going to turn them into the sheriff.” He would rather have abandoned them to the swamp but for the sake of human-Other relations, he would let the law handle them—with one exception. Each of the men was wearing a charm around his neck—a charm that had allowed them through his wards. They would be telling him exactly where they’d obtained that charm before he handed them over.

She nodded, then bent over her camera, flicked rapidly through the pictures, before retrieving the memory card and handed it to him.

“This might help. I took pictures of everything here, but I deleted the pictures of the fight.”

“Thank you.” His voice sounded hoarse, strained.

“If I did want to leave, how would I find my way out?” she asked, her words carving a hole in his chest.

“Bront will show you back to the cabin to gather your things and then guide you back to the human world.”

The dog whined anxiously, all three heads giving him a beseeching look which he ignored.

She nodded again and he rubbed impatiently at his chest. This was for the best. He couldn’t stand the idea that she might have made a decision she would come to regret. He was equally afraid that if he didn’t give her the choice now, he’d never be able to let her go. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t end up hunting her down anyway.

His chest burned as she pressed her palm against his heart. Her touch was too gentle, too understanding. He’d expected anger, arguments—anything but this quiet acceptance that threatened to shatter his resolve.

“Be careful, Thorn.”

Her whispered words carried no demand, no manipulation, just genuine concern for his safety, and his throat closed up. The urge to gather her close, to bury his face in her hair and beg her not to leave him nearly overwhelmed him. But he held himself rigid, muscles locked against the temptation, as she walked away, her small body disappearing between the ancient trees. Bront padded beside her, three heads alert and watchful. The dog would keep her safe. That knowledge should have brought comfort.

It didn’t.

The forest whispered around him, branches creaking reproachfully in the morning breeze. He’d walked these paths alone for decades, finding a measure of peace in solitude. Now there was no peace to be found.

The poachers lay bound at his feet, their groans a distant irritation compared to the hollow ache spreading through his chest. He should focus on them, on protecting his woods. Instead, his keen ears strained for one last hint of Sylvie’s voice, carried on the wind.

Nothing.

She was already too far away.

A twig snapped beneath one of the poacher’s boots as the man stirred, and he welcomed the distraction, the familiar rage rising to fill the void she’d left behind. This was his purpose—protecting the Elderwood. Nothing else mattered.

He repeated the lie until his hands stopped shaking.

Two hours later he returned to his cabin, his hooves dragging. He’d deposited the poachers with the Sheriff, along with the memory card. The Elderwood welcomed him back with its familiar symphony of rustling leaves and birdsong, but it felt different. Empty. Each flower reminded him of her delight, each path echoed with the memory of her laughter. She’d changed everything without even trying.

What a fool he’d been. For decades, he’d wrapped his grief around him like armor, using his sister’s memory as a shield against anything that threatened to crack his defenses. But Sylvie had slipped through anyway, with her inquisitive spirit and warm smile.

She’d touched parts of him he thought long dead. Even the way she’d looked at him after the fight—not with fear or disgust, but with relief. Like he was someone worth holding onto.

With each step he took, he had to fight the urge to go after her. To find her and beg her to return. Instead he forced himself to return to his cabin, already knowing how empty it would be without her.

He rounded the final bend in the path, and came to a stunned halt. Sylvie was sitting on the porch steps, Bront sprawled at her side. The sight of her knocked the breath from his lungs.

She hadn’t left.

Sunlight caught in her auburn hair, turning it to flame. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, making her look smaller than usual, but no less perfect. He’d given her the opportunity to leave—yet here she was, waiting. She looked up and smiled at him, no anger on her face, just the same warmth that had drawn him the moment they met.

Joy crashed through him, as wild and unexpected as a summer storm. He didn’t deserve her kindness, her patience, her trust. But there she sat, on his porch steps, waiting for him to come home.

She stood and started walking towards him and his legs finally unlocked. His stride lengthened, hooves beating against the ground, the need to reach her overwhelming. He’d been a fool to think he could ever let her go, not after she’d made him feel alive again

He reached her in three long steps and lifted her into his arms. She melted against him, her arms tightening around his neck and he buried his face in her shoulder, nuzzling the mating bite as he breathed in her scent. His tail swished back and forth behind him, his entire body alight with happiness.

“You didn’t leave. Thank the gods you didn’t leave.”

She drew back enough to look at him. Tears glistened in her eyes, but her smile—that damned smile that had first wormed its way past his defenses—lit up her whole face.

“Of course not. I told you I’d already made my decision. I was never going to leave you.” Her hand found his face, thumb ghosting along his jaw, and the gentle touch sent sparks across his skin.

“I know I acted like a fool, but I love you, Sylvie. More than anything.”

Her smile turned even more radiant.

“I know,” she teased gently. “Which is just as well since I love you too.”

Her lips found his, and the rest of the world disappeared. Nothing else existed outside the warmth of her body, her sweet taste, the way she fit perfectly against him. He was never going to let her go again.

When they finally broke apart, he had to catch his breath, his head swimming. His heart thudded against his ribs, beating out a rhythm he’d almost forgotten. Hope. Belonging. Love.

A small petal floated down out of the sky, and then another and another, until they were surrounded by a cascade of sweet-smelling petals, all in shades of white and pink.

He laughed, and then she laughed too, and Bront barked excitedly around their feet.

“I think the Elderwood approves.”

“I love you,” she whispered again, the words sinking into his skin and healing the last of the lingering hurts. “Now make love to me.”

“With pleasure.”

He took a step towards the cabin, but she shook her head.

“No. Right here. On a bed of flowers in the middle of your forest.”

“Our forest,” he corrected as he carried her down to the bed of fragrant petals. Bront barked again, then wandered off into the woods.

He laid her down, her head coming to rest on a clump of soft white flowers. He paused just to look at her for a minute, her hair spread out on the flowers, her face flushed and smiling, and her body eager and willing. A sudden lump formed in his throat.

She reached up and touched his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I never thought I’d have this. A female who accepted me, who loved me. I thought I was destined to live and die alone. I’m so glad I was wrong.”

Her eyes softened. “I’ll always accept you. No matter what. I’ll always love you.”

He bent down and kissed her, putting all the emotions he didn’t know how to say out loud into that kiss. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm as he slowly stripped away her clothes. There was no rush, no hurry. She was his, and he would always be hers.

Afterwards, they lay together, content and sated, blanketed by petals. She snuggled closer, her breath warm against his neck, and a wave of contentment washed over him.

The sun was sinking low in the sky, painting the trees in golden light, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. The outside world could wait. The Elderwood could wait. Right now, nothing mattered but the female in his arms and the love that filled his heart.

He was content just to hold her, to feel her heartbeat against his skin and breathe in her sweet scent. He never wanted to let her go.

“I love you,” he whispered again, the words still feeling new and wondrous on his tongue.

“I love you too,” she murmured sleepily, her hand settling in its favorite place over his heart.

A gentle breeze stirred the petals, carrying the promise of a new beginning. A new life. One that they would build together. His little human had healed him. Saved him. Loved him. And he vowed to spend the rest of their days showing her just how grateful he was.