Page 6 of Can’t Get No Satyrfaction (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)
CHAPTER 6
“ W here do you live?” Sylvie asked Thorn a moment later. “Do you have a cave somewhere?”
“A cave?”
He shot her an incredulous look and she grinned at him.
“Okay, maybe not a cave. I bet you have a treehouse. You seem like the type who’d want to be up high, keeping watch over everything.”
His tail flicked as he pretended to ignore her.
“Or maybe you prefer a burrow,” she continued, undeterred. “Hidden away underground, all nice and cozy.”
He sighed and shook his head, but the corners of his mouth quirked up again.
“Is it a secret? Does the ‘guardian of the forest’ deal come with a mysterious lair? Maybe a helpful butler as well?” She stepped cautiously over a root, but her ankles seemed fine. “C’mon, give me a hint.”
His eyes met hers again, and there it was—faint, barely there, but undeniable—a glimmer of amusement dancing in those green depths.
“You talk a lot for someone who’s supposed to be studying the forest.” He stepped over a log with effortless grace, and the movement sent his wild, spicy scent her way.
“It’s part of my charm,” she said cheerfully, but she stopped questioning him, content with his presence beside her.
The forest seemed to lean in, watching, whispering, as they walked. He was silent, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet. It was the kind that settled over her like a warm blanket, wrapping her in its embrace.
She caught him stealing another glance at her. This time, that luminous green gaze traced a slow path from her face to her boots, leaving an almost palpable trail of heat behind, and her pulse sped up. For someone so determined to ignore her, he certainly spent a lot of time watching her.
Not that I’m not doing the same thing , she thought, studying the play of sunlight across his horns. “How long have you been the forest’s guardian? Must be an interesting job.”
The muscle in his jaw jumped, and his tail swished like an agitated cat’s but he didn’t answer her, and she clicked her tongue.
“Fine, keep your secrets. But you should know that the mysterious act only makes you more intriguing. At least tell me about the forest. What’s the strangest thing you’ve seen out here? Besides me, of course.”
A low rumble escaped his chest—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. His head turned, and this time he didn’t look away when their eyes met. Finally, a reaction. She pressed her advantage, letting her voice drop to a teasing lilt.
“And am I strange because I’m human? Or because I have a thing for tall, dark, and cranky?”
His tail lashed the air, harder this time, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth to hide her triumphant grin. His eyes dropped to her mouth, his expression unreadable. When he turned back and started walking again, she let the grin emerge. She was making progress.
A mossy bank loomed ahead, flanking another narrow stream cutting through the forest floor. Her ankle twisted as she tried to navigate the slick surface, and her foot slid out from under her?—
Strong fingers wrapped around her arm, steadying her before she could fall. Heat sparked across her skin where his massive hand touched her.
“Careful,” he growled, his breath stirring her hair.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. His touch sent electricity racing through her veins, his palm so large it nearly encircled her entire upper arm. He helped her cross the stream and then, as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he released her and stepped back. The loss of contact left her skin tingling, craving more.
“Thanks.” Her voice sounded a little too breathless to her ears, and she fumbled with her camera, desperate to distract herself from the lingering warmth of his touch. “Did you know you’re very photogenic? Although it might help if you smiled once in a while.”
His horns twitched. “I don’t smile.”
“Challenge accepted.” She raised her camera, catching him shaking his head. “And even your grumpy face is camera-worthy.”
“I don’t like having my picture taken.” His tail lashed again, but there was no real annoyance in his tone.
“Too bad.” She snapped another photo, this one capturing the hint of a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
“If I see any of these on that Instagram thing, I’ll—” he broke off, shaking his head, but the corner of his mouth definitely curved up now. She captured the shot, grinning triumphantly.
“You know, most people would be flattered by all this attention. But you’re not like most people, are you?”
His eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to thin slits. “No. And this isn’t a game.”
“Who’s playing?” She traced her finger along her camera strap, watching his gaze track the movement. “Maybe I just appreciate art when I see it.”
Something flickered in those otherworldly eyes—a spark of heat that sent shivers down her spine. The corner of his mouth twitched, fighting what might have been a smile.
“You should watch your words, little photographer,” he said roughly, his voice low and hoarse.
“Or what?”
The question slipped out before she could stop it, breathless and daring. Her pulse raced at her own boldness. She’d never been this forward, this reckless, but something about him made her want to push, to see what lay beneath that stern exterior.
“You should be focused on the forest.”
“I am focused,” she said teasingly. “On lots of things.”
He growled, the sound rumbling through the air between them, but his eyes lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary before he started walking again.
A few minutes later, a clearing opened before them like something from a fairy tale, and her breath caught. Wildflowers dotted the grass in bursts of purple and gold, their petals dancing in the gentle breeze. The sunlight painted everything in warm honey tones, and the sweet scent of the flowers filled her lungs.
She lifted her camera, determined to capture the beauty of the meadow, but her lens kept drifting to Thorn. He stood beneath the trees at the edge of the clearing, huge and powerful and mysterious, but the sunlight shafting through the leaves transformed the silver streaks in his hair to molten metal. Her heart drummed faster as she went to join him.
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to enjoy the moment.”
He leaned back against the massive oak, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what moment is that?”
“Just look around!” She swept her hand in a wide arc, trying to encompass the beauty surrounding them. “The flowers, the light… it’s perfect.”
Instead of following the gesture, his gaze remained focused on her.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “Tell me, little photographer,” he added, “what do you see?”
“Something beautiful.” She met his eyes, refusing to look away. “Something worth capturing.”
Gathering her courage, she reached out, lightly touching the back of his hand where it rested on his arm. He stiffened at the contact but didn’t pull away. Encouraged, she traced her fingertips up his arm, following the lines of muscle and tendon. His skin was not exactly like human skin, more like the finest leather, but she could feel his pulse thrumming beneath her palm.
“You can touch me too,” she whispered, her heart racing. “If you want.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, his pupils dilating until only a thin ring of green remained. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” She leaned closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Humans bring trouble.” His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder, but it held an element of pain that made her chest ache.
“Not all of us.” She took a step back and raised her camera again, framing him against the sunlight dappled trunk. “Some of us just want to see the world… and maybe capture something beautiful.”
Dropping her camera, she closed the gap between them again, pressing her palm against his chest. His heart thudded beneath her touch, a rapid rhythm that betrayed the effect she was having on him. “Prove you’re not afraid of me. Touch me.”
A growl tore from his throat, and he grabbed her hips, pulling her against him until there wasn’t an inch of space between their bodies. She gasped as heat flooded her veins, her pulse skyrocketing. He was so much bigger than her, but instead of feeling intimidated, she felt… protected. Safe.
“Little photographer,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her cheek as he leaned down. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Am I?” she breathed. Her fingers drifted across his chest, exploring the contours of the powerful muscle beneath the warm skin. “And what are the stakes?”
His grip tightened on her hips, and for a dizzying moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. His mouth hovered mere inches from hers. She could almost taste him, earthy and male and wild. But then he released her abruptly, stepping back and putting distance between them.
“We should keep moving,” he said, his voice rough.
Her skin tingled, craving more of his touch, but she managed a shaky nod. “Then lead the way.”