Page 45 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

“I never thought I’d have this. A female who accepted me, who loved me. I thought I was destined to live and die alone. I’m so glad I was wrong.”

Her eyes softened. “I’ll always accept you. No matter what. I’ll always love you.”

He bent down and kissed her, putting all the emotions he didn’t know how to say out loud into that kiss. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm as he slowly stripped away her clothes. There was no rush, no hurry. She was his, and he would always be hers.

Afterwards, they lay together, content and sated, blanketed by petals. She snuggled closer, her breath warm against his neck, and a wave of contentment washed over him.

The sun was sinking low in the sky, painting the trees in golden light, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. The outside world could wait. The Elderwood could wait. Right now, nothing mattered but the female in his arms and the love that filled his heart.

He was content just to hold her, to feel her heartbeat against his skin and breathe in her sweet scent. He never wanted to let her go.

“I love you,” he whispered again, the words still feeling new and wondrous on his tongue.

“I love you too,” she murmured sleepily, her hand settling in its favorite place over his heart.

A gentle breeze stirred the petals, carrying the promise of a new beginning. A new life. One that they would build together. His little human had healed him. Saved him. Loved him. And he vowed to spend the rest of their days showing her just how grateful he was.

EPILOGUE

Two months later…

Sylvie stretched her legs,careful not to disturb Bront’s peaceful slumber as he snored beneath the desk Thorn had built for her. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she searched for the right words to describe the delicate unfurling of the moonflower she’d photographed last night.

A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying the sweet scent of late summer blooms. Her latest blog post waited, half-finished, the cursor blinking beside a photo of dewdrops caught in a spider’s web. Each image told a story of the Elderwood’s magic, though she kept its deepest secrets safe.

Bront’s ears twitched as he chased something in his dreams. She smiled, reaching down to scratch behind the closest set of ears. The big dog leaned into her touch for a moment without waking before she returned to her blog.

Her readership had grown steadily over the past weeks. Comments poured in about her unique perspective on forest photography, the intimate glimpses of wildlife that few hadcaptured before. She’d found her voice here, among the ancient trees and hidden glades.

The screen saver on the laptop showed her latest piece—a young deer drinking from a crystal-clear stream at dawn, sunlight slanting through the mist surrounding it. But it was the smaller details that made her heart sing—the tiny purple wildflowers that dotted the banks and the way the light caught the droplets on the deer’s whiskers.

She typed a few more words, then settled back in her chair, gazing out over the clearing in front of the cabin. This porch had become her favorite spot to work, where the boundary between forest and home blurred into something magical. A vine twisted down from the roof, gently stroking her cheek before withdrawing, and she smiled. She would never have Thorn’s connection to the Elderwood, but it had shown its acceptance of her in hundreds of small gestures.

A ladybug landed on her screen, its red shell bright against the white background. She watched it explore the edge of her laptop, remembering how she’d once chased similar moments in city parks and manicured gardens. Now she lived surrounded by raw, wild beauty—exactly where she belonged.

Her gaze suddenly shifted to the far side of the clearing. Even though she hadn’t heard a sound, she knew Thorn was approaching even before his massive figure appeared on the path leading to the cabin. As always, her breath caught at the sight of him. Sunlight caught the silver streaks in his dark hair, gleaming off his curved horns. Two months of waking up beside him hadn’t dulled the effect he had on her.

His eyes met hers, dark with the intensity that still made her skin tingle. No words passed between them, but none were needed.The air crackled with unspoken heat as he moved towards her, and the laptop screen dimmed, forgotten, as he reached her.

That magnetic pull between them had only grown stronger with time. Sometimes she wondered if this tension would ever fade—if she’d ever look at him without feeling that delicious flutter in her stomach.

Bront stirred at her feet, one head lifting to acknowledge his master with a sleepy huff before settling back down. She smiled, leaning back as Thorn bent down to kiss her, his lips gentle despite that electric tension. She closed her eyes, drinking in his nearness as he lifted her into his arms and settled back down with her in his lap. These quiet moments had become her favorite part of living here, where the forest’s ancient rhythms shaped their days. His presence grounded her, made the whole world feel steady and right.

His thumb traced lazy circles on her wrist, the calloused pad of his finger raising goosebumps along her arm. The touch sent little sparks of electricity through her veins, making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Marsh and Rorie are coming for dinner tonight,” she murmured, though she made no move to pull away. She and Rorie had become close friends over the past few months and that had also helped ease the relationship between Thorn and Marsh. She didn’t think his lingering guilt would ever disappear completely, but she knew how important that family tie was to him.

His grunt of acknowledgment rumbled through his chest, but something felt different in the way his fingers kept moving against her skin, distracted and almost nervous.

“How was your trip to town?” she asked, suddenly concerned that something had happened during his visit.

He never liked going to town, but he had accepted that it was occasionally necessary and even developed a cautious respect for a few of the humans who lived there.

“Fine. The conviction was upheld.”

The original trial had been an ordeal, and even though her photographs had helped convince the jury, the poachers had appealed the results. The fact that he wouldn’t have to go through that again was a huge relief. So why did he still seem so uncomfortable?

She twisted around in his arms and gently poked his chest.

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