Page 8 of Can’t Get No Satyrfaction (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

CHAPTER 8

S ylvie traced the delicate vines climbing up the shelter walls, marveling at how they’d sprouted and grown before her eyes. The crude structure had transformed into something almost magical—branches weaving together overhead, moss thickening beneath her, creating a soft cushion. Fresh leaves unfurled, casting dappled shadows across the earthen floor.

But her attention kept drifting back to Thorn’s hands as he worked on her ankle. His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone so large, his fingers careful.

Heat rose to her cheeks as she remembered his expression when she’d pulled off her shirt. His eyes had darkened, pupils dilating before he’d jerked his gaze away. That split-second reaction had sent a thrill through her body—one that lingered even now.

“Stop squirming,” he growled, his breath warm against her leg.

“Sorry.”

She bit her lip, trying to focus on anything but his closeness. The shortened hem of her shirt rode up as she shifted, exposing a wider strip of skin above the waistband of her shorts. His fingers faltered for a heartbeat. She watched his face, catching the way his jaw clenched when she deliberately moved again. The air thickened between them, charged with something that made her pulse race.

A stray lock of hair fell across her face. Before she could brush it back, his hand moved—then stopped, hovering inches from her cheek. His eyes met hers, intense and conflicted. The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, before he looked away again, reaching for the small glass bottle he’d pulled from the leather pouch on his belt.

The scent of pine and herbs filled the air as he uncorked it and the oil inside caught the filtered sunlight, amber-gold and mysterious. He poured a few drops onto his palm, then began gently massaging it into her ankles.

His touch sent lightning through her veins. The oil spread warmth wherever his fingers touched, seeping deep into her sore flesh. She fought to keep her breathing steady as his thumbs worked in slow circles around her ankles. The pain melted away, replaced by a tingling heat that had nothing to do with the medicine.

He bent over his task, silver-streaked hair falling forward. This close, she could see the intricate patterns in his horns, the way his throat moved when he swallowed. Her fingers itched to trace the strong line of his jaw, to discover if his beard was as soft as it looked.

He gathered a few broad leaves from a plant that had sprung from the ground at his touch, then wrapped them around her ankle with careful precision. Each brush of his fingers against her skin felt deliberate, almost like a caress. The strips of her shirt followed, binding everything in place.

His face hovered inches from hers as he checked his work. When he looked back at her, she could see the amber flecks scattered through the deep forest green of his eyes, the tiny scar above his left eyebrow, the subtle curves of his lips. Those amazing eyes flicked to her mouth, darkening for a heart-stopping moment. Her breath caught in her throat as the air between them crackled with possibility.

Then he blinked, breaking the spell. He turned away, leaving her skin burning where his hands had been, wondering if she’d imagined the heat in his eyes. No , she decided. He was as attracted to her as she was to him—but he was fighting it a lot harder.

He pushed to his feet and ducked out of the shelter without a backward glance. She heard a rustling, the sound of wood scraping against wood. When he returned he carried a pair of makeshift crutches.

“To help you walk on your own,” he said gruffly, setting them down next to her.

He helped her to her feet, supporting her as she tested the crutches, finding them sturdy despite their simple construction, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to make some dinner. Do you want to rest or would you rather?—”

“I’d rather join you.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips before he ducked out of the shelter again, and she hobbled after him. He gestured to a log to one side of the clearing and she sat down gratefully.

He’d already built a fire, sparks dancing upwards into the gathering darkness, and strung strips of meat over the fire. Her stomach growled at the rich, smoky aroma wafting from the cooking meat, but the food wasn’t what held her attention.

He moved with fluid grace as he tended the flames, his big body highlighted by the golden glow. Muscles rippled beneath sun-bronzed skin each time he adjusted the strips of meat. The firelight caught the silver threading through his dark hair, making it shimmer like starlight. He didn’t look at her, but she was sure he was as aware of her as she was of him.

“You know,” she said, just to break the charged silence, “if you’re as good at cooking as you are at making shelters, I might have to kidnap you for my next photography expedition.” Her voice came out low and husky, seductive. “Think about it—you could be my personal wilderness chef.”

His lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile before he ducked his head, focusing intently on rotating the meat. What would it take to make him truly smile again?

Heat pooled in her stomach as she watched his hands—those strong, careful hands that had so gently tended her injury. She shifted, trying to ignore how the movement made her shortened shirt ride up. “Though I suppose you’d hate that, wouldn’t you? Being stuck with a chatty human who keeps taking your picture.”

His shoulders tensed slightly at her words, but he didn’t look up from his task. The flames painted shadows across his angular features, making him look wild and dangerous and impossibly appealing. She bit her lip, wondering what other reactions she might coax from him.

“Why did you decide to become a forest guardian?” she asked. “It must get lonely out here with only the trees to talk to.”

His hands stilled for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “I didn’t decide. The Elderwood chose me.”

She leaned closer, drawn in by the low rumble of his words. “What does that mean?”

He turned his head to meet her gaze, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “Some places have a… consciousness. They choose their guardian, and I’m the one this forest picked. It’s not a decision, it’s a bond.”

“A bond,” she repeated softly. She traced her finger along the bark of the log beneath her, imagining roots stretching deep into the earth, connecting everything around her. “So you belong to it. And it belongs to you.”

“Yes.” His tail flicked, his eyes searching her face.

“I like that.” She smiled up at him. “It’s beautiful, in its own way.”

Something softened in his expression, a flicker of vulnerability beneath the stern facade. “I thought you’d find it strange. Most humans would.”

“Most humans don’t take the time to look, do they?” She tilted her head. “They see what they want to see and move on. Never stopping to wonder what’s underneath the surface.”

“And you?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Do you wonder?”

The air felt charged between them, heavy with things left unsaid. But she didn’t want to leave them that way. Didn’t want him to think of her as just another shallow, selfish human.

“I do,” she said softly, holding his gaze. “I’m not always successful, but I try to understand the things—and people—I photograph.”

His eyes held hers for a long moment before he turned back to the fire. He had stiffened again and she sighed.

Bront sat down next to her and nudged her hand. She buried her fingers in the dark ruff around his neck, scratching the sweet spot behind his ears that made his tail thump against the ground.

“At least someone here likes me,” she whispered to him, and his middle head tilted, those intelligent blue eyes fixed on her face. His left head nuzzled her cheek while the other watched Thorn with what looked suspiciously like amusement. “You’re just a big sweetie, aren’t you? Nothing like your grumpy master over there.”

Bront huffed, a sound that could have been an agreement, and flopped his big heads on her lap. The pressure should have been uncomfortable, but his solid presence felt oddly reassuring.

She glanced up, catching Thorn’s gaze on her before he quickly looked away, jaw tight as he poked at the fire with unnecessary force.

“Traitor,” he muttered to Bront, who responded by snuggling closer to her.

She did her best to hide her smile. For all his brooding, Thorn kept stealing glances when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Each time their eyes met, even briefly, electricity crackled through her veins. He might try to act indifferent, but his body language told a different story—the tension in his shoulders, the way his tail flicked restlessly, how his hands clenched and unclenched as if fighting the urge to reach out.

She scratched under Bront’s chins, earning a pleased rumble that vibrated against her legs.

“Good boy,” she cooed, not missing how Thorn’s ear twitched at the sound of her voice.

His sharp features caught the shadows, making him look otherworldly—dangerous, even—but it only added to his allure. Especially with the gentle way he’d tended her ankle, how his touch lingered just a heartbeat too long.

“Are you always this chatty, or am I just special?” she asked playfully, and his head snapped up, those mesmerizing green eyes locking onto hers.

Her breath caught. His jaw tightened, but there—just at the corner of his mouth—she caught the barest hint of a smile. That tiny crack in his stern facade felt like winning a prize. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, couldn’t resist pushing just a little further.

“Come on, admit it, you like having me around, Captain Smiley.”

She leaned towards him, letting her voice drop to a teasing whisper. He didn’t grunt or look away this time. Instead, those intense green eyes held hers, filled with an unspoken heat that made her skin tingle. Maybe it was reckless to flirt with him like this, but something about the way he looked at her—like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve—made her want to push those carefully constructed boundaries.

After a long moment his lips curved and her heart began to race. It wasn’t a full grin—more like sunlight breaking through storm clouds—but it struck her breathless all the same. This wasn’t just curiosity anymore, not just a game—perhaps it never had been. The pull she felt towards him ran far deeper. The air between them shifted, charged with something new and electric. Suddenly overwhelmed, she took refuge in humor.

“There it is! A real smile, I knew you had one in you!”

He shook his head, still looking amused, then began removing the meat from the fire, wrapping it in large leaves. They ate in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. The fire burned low, casting long shadows across the clearing. As she finished her meal, she looked up to find him watching her again. Without thinking, she smiled at him.

And then, like a gift, he smiled back—soft and genuine.

It was barely there, just a gentle upturn of his lips, but it transformed his face, softening the sharp angles and bringing a light to his eyes that made her breath catch. In that moment, he looked carefree, happy, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

She wanted to capture that look forever. To make sure he never forgot how to smile like that.

But before she could reach for her camera, it was gone. The guarded expression returned, a shield slamming back into place, and her heart ached. What pain had he endured to make him so wary? So determined to hide away his gentler side? She longed to know, to understand what had happened to make him build such strong walls around himself. But she sensed that pushing him right now would only cause him to retreat further behind those walls.

However, just because she couldn’t reach him verbally…

She reached out, her fingertips brushing his arm. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. Slowly, he turned back to face her and she lifted her hand to his jaw, tracing the line of his beard as those luminous green eyes focused on her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed him.

At first she just brushed her lips against his in a gentle exploration. He stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard by her boldness, but then he shuddered and leaned into the kiss, deepening it.

His hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer until she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. She sighed with pleasure and arched into his touch, teasing his tongue with hers as the kiss grew deeper, hotter. Need coiled in her stomach as her hands roamed across those wide shoulders and down his arms. He pulled her onto his lap, and she gasped into his mouth as her body settled against his and his hands slid down her spine, holding her closer against the thickness of his erection. Her fingers tangled in the soft silk of his hair before curling around the base of his horns.

He groaned, but then he pulled away from the kiss. They stared at each other, both of them breathing rapidly, chests heaving. Her whole body was alive with sensation, her nipples taut and swollen, her clit pulsing in a low demanding rhythm, but then he lifted her off his lap and stood up.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, his voice rough as he pointed at the shelter. “We should get an early start tomorrow.”

She sighed, but nodded, not entirely surprised by his withdrawal.

“Will you join me?”

He shook his head, still not looking at her. “I don’t sleep inside.”

“Of course not.” She rose and headed for the shelter. When she reached it, she looked back over her shoulder and saw his eyes were fixed on her. “Good night, Thorn. Sweet dreams.”