Page 28 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

The trail led straight toward the boundary line. His steps slowed as he approached the ancient oaks that marked this edge of the Elderwood. Beyond those weathered trunks, human law held sway. The tracks continued past his borders, disappearing into land he couldn’t follow, not without disturbing the fragile peace between humans and Others.

Fuck.They’d known exactly what they were doing—slipping in to lay their traps and then leaving again. And now they were safely out of reach.

The boundary oaks creaked in sympathy, their ancient magic humming against his awareness. They understood his frustration. For centuries they’d stood guard, watching humans encroach deeper into wild spaces.

He pressed his palm against the rough bark, letting the tree’s steady presence ground him. The poachers would return—their tracks showed too much planning for this to be a one-time incursion. But he couldn’t cross that line without bringing unwanted attention to the Elderwood. Without risking everything he protected. The best thing he could do was strengthen his wards.

Magic thrummed beneath his hand as he woke the ancient guardian. The tree’s branches shifted, ready to snag any unwelcome intruders. He moved to the next likely entry point, weaving protection spells through roots and vines.

His fingers brushed damp earth, but instead of soil, he felt the phantom softness of her skin. The memory of her cry of ecstasy shot through him like lightning and flowers began to spring from the earth. Cursing, he yanked his hand back.

Focus.The forest needed him, and flowers were not an adequate defense.

He worked his way along the boundary separating the forest from the place where the poachers had crossed over, each spell stronger than the last. Thorny vines twisted into natural barriers. Roots rose to create hidden trip lines. The very air grew thick with warning magic—subtle enough that humans wouldn’t notice, but powerful enough to alert him the moment they crossed his borders.

But even as he shaped the forest’s defenses, her scent lingered in his mind—sweet and wild. The way she’d melted against him, fingers curling into his hair and tightening around his horns…

Fuck.He slammed his fist against a tree trunk. The oak creaked in protest, and he stroked the bark apologetically.

She was human. Everything he’d sworn to avoid after what happened to his sister. He couldn’t afford distractions, not with poachers circling his borders. Yet his treacherous mind drifted to the curve of her smile, the flash of defiance in those bright blue eyes. The trust in her face when he’d pushed her against the tree. No human—no one—had ever looked at him like that before.

He growled, forcing himself to concentrate on the spell-weaving. He couldn’t think about her soft skin or how perfectly she’d fit against him. Couldn’t remember how right it had felt to hold her while she slept.

She wasn’t for him. No matter how much his body ached to touch her again. But no matter how hard he fought it, he knew he was lying to himself. It was too late. He suspected it had been too late since the first moment she’d looked up at him and smiled.

Night had fallen by the time he’d protected as much of the western boundary as he could. His hands were shaking with exhaustion as he headed back towards his cabin, exhausted from the effort of calling the forest’s magic. The cool night air drifted around him, the scent of herbs and night blooming flowers filling his senses and gradually restoring his strength. He paused at the edge of the clearing in front of his cabin and rested his head against the bark of one of the guardian oaks in thanks.

The trees did not communicate verbally but he was sure he felt a hum of amusement just before a cluster of flowers dropped into his hand.Fuck. Even the forest was conspiring against his efforts to restrain himself.

His hooves barely made a sound on the path back to the cabin. Light spilled from the windows, casting long golden bars acrossthe clearing. His chest tightened at the sight—how long since his home had looked so… welcoming?

He shook off the thought. He was only returning to check on Bront. And her. Nothing more.

The forest whispered around him, confirming his wards held strong. No sign of the poachers. Yet instead of relief, tension tightened his muscles as he neared the door.

His sensitive ears picked up sounds from inside—water splashing, a soft feminine hum that sent heat racing down his spine. His fingers dug into the wooden doorframe, making it groan beneath his grip.

The melody drifted through the cabin, something light and sweet that had no business making his heart race like this. Her voice carried notes of joy despite everything that had happened. Despite being trapped here with him.

He forced himself to breathe, to focus on anything but the images his traitorous mind conjured—her bare skin glistening with water, auburn hair darkened and clinging to her neck…

He growled low in his throat. This was exactly why humans didn’t belong in his world. They got under your skin. Made you want impossible things.

The splashing suddenly stopped.

“Thorn?” Her voice carried through the door, sending another jolt through him. “Is that you prowling out there?”

His grip tightened further. How had she known? He could have sworn he hadn’t made a sound. Yet somehow she’d sensed him, just as he always seemed to be aware of her.

Because she’s my mate.

He stepped inside, ready to bark out orders about proper behavior in someone else’s home—but the words died in his throat.

She’d discovered the huge copper tub in the alcove against the back wall. More likely the vines that usually concealed it had revealed it to her. Steam rose from his tub in lazy spirals, carrying her sweet scent straight to his head. She was reclining in the water, bare shoulders gleaming like pearls in the soft lantern light. Her hair was swept up, exposing the tempting curve of her neck. A few escaped strands curled damply against her skin.

His pulse thundered in his ears. He should turn around. Walk out. Instead, his hooves carried him forward, drawn by some force he couldn’t fight.

“You’re back,” she murmured, those blue eyes trailing over him with devastating slowness. They lingered on his chest, where his heart hammered against his ribs. Her lips curved into a knowing smile that sent heat coursing through his veins before they drifted to the flowers in his hand. “Beautiful flowers.”

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