Page 44 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

He repeated the lie until his hands stopped shaking.

Two hourslater 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 himselfto 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?”

---