Page 19 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

She murmured again, a sleepy mumble, and his heart raced as she stirred. He didn’t move, hardly daring to breathe, his body aching with desire and fear in equal measure. If she woke now, found herself wrapped in his arms, she’d know. She’d see the hunger in his eyes, the way his body trembled with need. She’d know exactly how much she affected him. And that terrified him more than anything else.

But she didn’t wake up. Her breathing remained slow and even, her body relaxed against his. After a moment, he let out a shuddering breath, allowing himself to relax too, just a fraction. He tried to pull his thoughts together, to think of something—anything—other than the soft weight of her body against his. But her scent surrounded him, filling his lungs and driving everything but her from his mind. He was helpless, trapped by his own desire and the terrifying realization that he didn’t want to escape. In all his years he’d never felt so vulnerable—or so alive.

He lay there, heart pounding, his body on fire with need, and watched the sunrise paint the sky in shades of pink and gold through the leaves overhead. The forest slowly came to life around them, birds singing, leaves rustling in the breeze. All the while she slept, her breath warm against his neck, her hand now resting over his thundering heart. He couldn’t have moved if he’d tried, couldn’t have pulled away from her even though it meant risking everything he’d spent years building.

He had to wake her, to remove this overwhelming temptation. His fingertips hovered over her cheek. Just to wake her. That’s all it was. But when he stroked her silken cheek, his touch lingered. The differences between them struck him all over again—his calloused hand against her softness. He should pull away. Should stop indulging in this dangerous fascination.

Her eyelashes fluttered, dark against her pale skin. For a heartbeat, panic seized him. She’d recoil once fully awake, faced with his Otherness in the harsh light of day. The thought shouldn’t bother him. Shouldn’t make his chest ache.

But then her eyes opened fully, that brilliant blue catching the morning light, and instead of fear or disgust, her face lit with a smile that hit him like a sledgehammer. Pure. Unguarded. As if waking in his arms was the most natural thing in the world.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice still rough with sleep. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t tense or shrink from his touch. Just smiled up at him with a trust he hadn’t earned and couldn’t deserve.

His fingers trembled against her cheek. He should move. Should put distance between them before this warmth in his chest grew any stronger. But her skin was so soft under his touch, and that smile…

He bent his head towards her, still expecting at any moment that she would pull away. Instead, she tilted her face up to meet him. His heart hammered in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears.

Just one more kiss. Just one more taste of her sweetness.

The moment their lips touched, something inside him shattered. She was so warm, so soft, so trusting. The ache in his chest twisted into something sharp and painful, something he didn’t dare acknowledge.

She whimpered against his mouth, her hands clutching his shoulders, and the ache deepened, threatening to overwhelm him. This was more than desire, more than simple attraction. The feel of her body, her mouth, the way she responded to his touch—it shook him to his core just as it had done the previous night. He’d thought himself numb to everything, but she’d woken a hunger inside him that he didn’t know how to control.

He kissed her deeper, harder, losing himself in her sweetness. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him, afraid she might slip away like smoke on the wind. She moaned softly, her fingers tangling in his hair, drawing him closer still. He traced the delicate line of her collarbone, his hand drifting lower to cup a small, perfect breast and she gasped into his mouth as his fingers tightened around a stiff little nipple.

He lost track of time as they kissed, their bodies pressed close, heat building between them. Finally, reluctantly, he forced himself to break the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and glazed with desire. His cock throbbed at the sight, aching to be buried deep inside her. He wanted to hear her moan his name in pleasure, to see her face flush with ecstasy. Hewanted to claim her completely, irrevocably, to brand her very soul as his.

Gods, he wanted her. Wanted to claim her as his, to mark her skin with his teeth, to make her scream his name in ecstasy. The ferocity of his desire shocked him. He’d been mildly attracted to females before, but never like this—never with such a consuming, desperate hunger. She was addictive, intoxicating, and he feared he would never get enough of her.

But this wasn’t what she wanted—not really. She was caught up in the moment, swept away by the novelty of being intimate with a satyr. She couldn’t truly want him. He would be a fool to believe otherwise. Humans were fickle creatures, their passions fleeting and easily forgotten.

The thought of her leaving, of her walking out of the forest and his life forever, sent a bolt of panic through him. The idea that she might not come back, that he might never be able to put his arms around her again, made his chest tighten with a pain he hadn’t felt in years.

He pulled back, panting, staring down at her with eyes that felt raw, exposed. She was smiling up at him again, her lips swollen and pink, her cheeks flushed. He’d done that to her. He’d marked her, claimed her, even if only for a moment.

But she couldn’t be his. It wasn’t possible. She was a human, and humans brought nothing but destruction and heartache. He couldn’t risk that, not when he already knew he couldn’t bear to lose her.

“I’ll get breakfast started,” he said gruffly, ignoring the confusion that flashed across her face. “Call me if you need help.”

He ducked through the opening of the shelter, leaving her alone on the mossy bed. As soon as he was out of sight, he leaned heavily against the nearest tree, his chest aching with conflicting emotions. Bront followed him out, giving him a disapproving look before he settled down next to the entrance.

He glared back at his dog. “Don’t you start. I’m doing the right thing.”

Bront snorted, unimpressed, and he sighed. What was he thinking, kissing her like that? Letting her kiss him?

No, he knew exactly what he’d been thinking. That he wanted her. That he needed her. His need for her fought against his fears, but the need was beginning to win out and he was on the verge of returning to her when a flicker of unease caught his attention.

He closed his eyes, reaching out with senses humans couldn’t comprehend, searching for the discordant note in the familiar rhythm of the forest. His awareness stretched further, guided by the trees’ whispers. There—three heartbeats where none should be. Human heartbeats. Heavy footsteps crushing delicate moss. Metal glinting in the dawn light. The acrid scent of gun oil.

A growl built in his chest before he could stop it. Poachers. How dare they venture this deep into his territory? He should have noticed them before. Instead, he’d let himself get wrapped up in this impossibly tempting human female with her bright smile and endless questions.

He had to go after them, but he couldn’t leave her alone, vulnerable…

His tail flicked in agitation. The shelter might keep her dry, but it wasn’t secure. Not like his cabin with its protective wards andreinforced walls. He had to take her there, where she would be safe. He ignored the warmth that spread through him at the thought of her in his space, surrounded by his things. It meant nothing.

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

CHAPTER 10

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