Page 17 of Promised to the Satyr

Pressing my fingers lovingly over the space above my heart where she marked me, I say, “You are wonderful.” I inch the hand with the letters forward.

After a moment’s hesitation, she takes them. Clutching the envelopes to her chest, she rushes from the room.

While I want to go to her and convince her she’s beating herself up for no reason, I suspect there’s more to her reaction than a little bite mark that will be gone in a day or two.

Grabbing a kilt and shirt from a drawer, I do what I always do when I have a problem. I go to the kitchen and cook.

Eight

Astra

Iknow it was cowardly to leave him last night, but I felt as if my heart was going to explode. It wasn’t the sex. It was the feelings. The onslaught of emotions bombarding me from the way Niko looks at me, touches me, and talks to me are something I’ve never experienced before.

Exhaustion allowed me to sleep, but now I’m taking my time in the shower. The more I think about seeing him, the more my heart pounds. I long to see him and at the same time, I’m terrified of all of these new impulses.

I wrap myself in a towel and comb my hair, thankful for the steam covering the mirror and keeping me from seeing the fainthearted woman in the mirror.

Unable to stall any longer, I dress in shorts and a red shirt with puffy little sleeves.

Relief floods me to find the kitchen empty. I scan the great room. Niko sits drinking coffee on the deck. In his other hand, he grips a flute.

Lowering his cup to the table, he brings the flute to his pursed lips. The faintest hum of his music gets through the windows. It’s soft but there’s life to the lilt of it.

Drawn to both the man and the sound he produces, only the need for caffeine keeps me in the kitchen.

The coffee smells divine. There’s a brown shipping box on the counter. I head around the island to pour myself a cup. As I sip, I see my name on the box’s label. I’ve never received a package at home, I can’t imagine having something come for me here. Maybe someone sent a wedding gift. I sigh. I suppose I’ll be sending whatever it is back.

On the vertical side of the box is a yellow sticky note.I thought these things could get you started on discovering your dreams.

Putting the mug down, I open the box. Inside is a laptop computer, three notebooks each with a different pretty cover, a sketchbook, and art pencils. I pull everything out and line it all up on the counter. My chest aches with joy at the idea of creating something. I don’t even know if I’m capable of such things, but the fact that someone wants me to find out is overwhelming.

“If you want to paint, we can order watercolors or oils.”

Not having heard him enter, I spin toward his voice. I brush a tear away. “You ordered all of this before last night.”

He cocks his head and his horns catch the sunlight. It makes him look almost angelic. “I ordered them after you told me about your desire. You should be able to pursue anything that makes you happy, Astra.”

Last night he called me sweetheart. I long for the endearment. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay with you last night.”

A hint of a smile lights his face as he approaches and kisses my cheek. “It’s alright. I had time to come up with some new recipes.”

I’m not surprised since my dreams were all food-related. I’m sure he was angry even though he didn’t show it. “If you want me to leave, I can stay with my friend Cade and his woman.”

Standing at the counter, Niko is only inches from me. “I don’t want you to go. I understand you were overcome and needed some space. I’m not upset with you.”

I run my hand over the laptop box. “I don’t know how to use such things.”

“I will show you.” He takes my hand and kisses it. “First, the rain has made our other plans quite appealing, if you’d still like to show me the area for riding in the Jeep.”

Rather than being angry with me, he’s understanding of something he can’t possibly fathom. He offers me friendship and I have nothing to give him in return. Rather than say anything more about my failures, I will give him what I’ve already promised, the rest of the week.

We bounce around a muddy field, getting stuck twice. But with a satyr, it’s not an issue. He lets me get behind the wheel and pushes us out of the mud with ease.

“No one has ever taught me to drive,” I say as I return to the passenger seat.

His eyes narrow for a moment before his smile returns and he steps on the gas, driving us through another mud puddle.This time we make it through and drive up the embankment before spinning in a circle and driving down into the field again.

I can’t remember when I’ve laughed as much. It’s as if all the troubles of being my father’s daughter have disappeared for the moment.

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