Page 35 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

His fingers curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, to pull her close and never let go. Instead, he forced himself to breathe, to remember why getting attached was dangerous. But the panic that had gripped him when he’d found her gone told him it was already too late.

“I had Bront with me,” she said softly, as if that explained everything.

The massive hound wagged his tail at the mention of his name, and Thorn shot him a betrayed look. The beast was supposed to keep her safe in the cabin, not enable her adventures.

“And if I hadn’t come this way, that poor little thing would still be trapped,” she added defiantly.

She wasn’t wrong, which only irritated him even more. He rose grumpily, then found himself reaching down to help her to her feet. She didn’t hesitate to take his hand and he pulled her up. Once again he underestimated her slight weight and she ended up plastered against his chest.

She smiled up at him and slid her arms up around his neck. He automatically put his arms around her, and a little shower of flower petals drifted down over them.

“I’m sorry if you were worried about me.”

“When I returned and you weren’t there, I panicked.”

The confession emerged before he could call it back, and her face softened.

“Where did you go?”

“To visit my nephew. He told me my sister would want me to be happy.”

“I’m sure he’s right.” Her fingers twisted in the shorter curls behind his ears. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“I haven’t been happy for a long time.” Another impromptu confession. What was she doing to him? “I lived my life, I protected the forest, but it was… empty.”

Those bright blue eyes inspected his face, the corners of her mouth curving up.

“You said itwasempty.”

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Then what changed?”

“It started with Marsh, I think. But mostly, because of you.”

He might be confused and angry, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced at her nearness, or how his arms tightened instinctively around her, keeping her pressed against him.

Her smile lit up the entire fucking forest and he couldn’t help it. He leaned down and kissed her, swallowing her gasp of surprise. Her body molded to his, soft and yielding, and something cracked open inside him, flooding his veins with warmth.

She tasted like honey and mint, like every sweet, impossible dream he’d denied himself. And when she melted into him, he knew he was lost. There was no going back. Not from this.

He’d always sworn to protect his woods, to keep the darkness at bay, but here in her arms, it seemed the light had found him instead.

When he lifted his head, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I was so afraid when I saw that poor thing trapped. I didn’t know what to do, and then you appeared like a miracle. My miracle.”

Her voice hitched, and he pulled her close again, resting his chin on the top of her head as she buried her face in his chest. He could feel her trembling, and the urge to keep her safe burned through him.

Bront pressed against their legs, whining softly, and he reached down to stroke the hound’s ears. They made an odd picture—the satyr, the photographer, and the three-headed dog—but somehow, they fit together.

And he didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want to lose her.

“Will you stay with me?” The question escaped before he could second-guess himself. “Here, in the Elderwood?”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her blue eyes searching his. “Are you sure?”

He swallowed hard, but he knew what he wanted and he wasn’t going to fight it any longer. “Yes.” The word emerged as a rough growl, but he didn’t waver. “Stay.”

Her lips curved into a smile brighter than any star. “Yes,” she breathed, leaning up on tiptoe to brush her mouth against his. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

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