Page 34 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

CHAPTER 18

Thorn’s hands threatened to tremble as he started to work the snare loose, his heart still hammering from the moment he’d returned to find his cabin empty. His rage at the poachers mixed with the overwhelming fear that had seized him when he’d discovered Sylvie was gone.

He’d torn through the forest like a storm, tracking her scent mixed with Bront’s. Each step had brought fresh waves of panic until he’d caught sight of her auburn hair through the trees just as Bront intercepted him. He’d been so overwhelmed with relief that it had only added to his anger.

Now, as he worked to free the injured kitsune, he struggled to focus past the lingering echo of that fear. She knelt beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm, alive and whole and completely oblivious to how badly she’d shaken him.

“Can I help?”

Her hands trembled as she reached out, but he caught them without thinking, engulfing them in his much larger ones.

“Let me,” he said gruffly. The wire had sharp edges that could slice through her delicate skin and there were already traces of blood in her fingertips.

The sight made his chest tighten. As annoying as they were, humans were also so fucking fragile. So easily broken.

She nodded and sat back on her heels, but she stayed close, radiating a warmth that seemed to seep into his bones. A tear slipped down her cheek as she watched the trapped creature, and something inside him ached. He wanted to brush that tear away, to pull her into his arms and shield her from everything that could hurt her.

The impulse terrified him.

She didn’t belong here in his forest, kneeling in the dirt and crying over wounded animals. She belonged in the human world with its neat gardens and safe paths. Not here where every shadow could hide danger, where one wrong step could lead to disaster.

Yet watching her now, her face soft with concern… she fit. Like she’d always been meant to be here, breaking down every wall he’d built to keep himself safe.

As he continued to work the wire loose as his mind drifted to that morning’s conversation. After he’d fled the cabin, he’d gone to seek out Marsh, driven by a restlessness he couldn’t shake.

His nephew had been outside his swamp cottage, tending to his herb garden, his broad shoulders relaxed and the vines intermingled with his hair moving peacefully in the sunshine. The sight had twisted something in his chest—Marsh had once been so alone, but now he had a mate and he moved easilybetween their world and the human one, as if the boundaries meant nothing.

“How can you trust them?” he demanded. “After what they did to your mother?”

Marsh didn’t even look up from his plants. “Not all humans are the same, Thorn.”

“They’re dangerous?—”

“Aurora isn’t.” Marsh said, his voice quiet but firm. “Nor Jimmy. Neither are her friends in town. Mother wouldn’t want us to live in fear forever.”

He winced. “Your mother?—”

“Would want us to be happy.” Marsh finally turned, fixing Thorn with that knowing look that always made him feel ancient and foolish. “She wouldn’t want her pain to keep us from living.”

Now, watching Sylvie’s gentle hands hover near the injured creature, those words echoed in his mind. She was nothing like the monsters who’d hurt his sister. Her heart was as open as the sky, her touch as soft as morning dew.

The trapped animal whimpered, drawing him back to the present. The wire finally gave way, and the kitsune trembled as he lifted it free of the snare. Sylvie sighed with relief, her smile radiant.

He cradled the injured animal, carefully checking its leg. No broken bones, just raw skin where the wire had cut into its leg. The creature’s heart hammered against his palm, wild and fierce, but he held it a moment longer, smoothing a few drops of healing oil over the torn skin.

She leaned closer, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and gave him a worried look.

“Will it be okay?” Her voice was soft, meant not to startle.

He nodded, unable to look directly at her as the morning light caught in her hair, turning it to fire. “Just needs time to heal.”

She exhaled, shoulders dropping with relief. When the kitsune squirmed, eager to escape, she shifted back to give it space. He released it and it scampered into the bushes, limping but determined.

She watched it go, then smiled up at him and his heart did something it shouldn’t. He looked away, forcing his expression to remain neutral even as his pulse thudded.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She hesitated, as if wanting to reach for him, but then dropped her hands back into her lap, twisting them together.

“You shouldn’t have wandered off,” he growled, the words rough with the emotion he couldn’t quite suppress.

---