Page 6 of Promised to the Satyr

Even as I think it, it I’m not sure I mean it. He’s been a perfect gentleman other than not turning away when I was naked. However, I have no shame since I’ve been naked all my life. People gape and stare and fall in love with me. It happens every day. Only Niko didn’t gape or gush over me. He looked, then kept his attention on my face. He talked to me as if what I said was important to him.

Only creatures like Cade the manticore ever showed interest in me as a person. He wasn’t lured in by my essence because he can only want his true mate. Some creatures are not affected by nymphs. Why am I disappointed that Niko didn’t instantly fall inlove with me? No. It’s better this way. I can leave at the end of the week without any guilt.

Sinking lower, I let my head fall back, soaking my hair. I wash and relax until my stomach’s grumblings overwhelm my enjoyment of the bath.

When I return to my room, I find an envelope on the nightstand. It’s addressed to me and postmarked from March.

Not ready to read the letter and curious to know how Niko got up those steps without being heard, I pull on a pair of white shorts and a pink shirt that says Pretty in Pink on the front. I don’t bother with the underwear as I can’t imagine such items being comfortable.

I like the way the clothes feel on my skin. Somehow putting them on feels naughty and rebellious.

I step into the great room and the scents of food fill the air. Niko’s back is to me and he does something at the stove. He’s broad, and the way his waist narrows and the curve of his ass is far sexier than I’ll ever admit. I clear my throat. “Have you always cooked for yourself?”

His smile as he turns melts me from the inside out. My body abandons my demand to not be attracted to him, and my clit pulses with need.

“I like to cook.” He nods to a cookbook on the counter.

On the cover is a photo of him without horns. His name is written in shiny black lettering across the top. I blink and shake my head, expecting that to be some kind of illusion that will disappear. “You write cookbooks?”

He shrugs. “I’m a chef and cooked in my own restaurants for a long time. When my nature became known, I retreated to the mountains. I hired chefs and on-site managers, and started writing books. Eventually, people forgot about the half-goat man who cooked them risotto, and I have led a peaceful life ever since. That was a long time ago.”

I wish I didn’t find him so fascinating. “Thank you for getting me clothes.”

Nodding, he brings me a plate with toasted baguette slices covered in bruschetta.

Too hungry to refuse, I eat two before I think about the price of his kindness. “I’m not going to marry you just because you fed me or let me use your bathtub.”

“I know,” he says without looking at me.

“I don’t need you.” I wish the fish didn’t smell so good roasting in some kind of tomato-based sauce.

“Of course you don’t.” He turns off the oven and faces me. “You’re a grown woman who can do anything she wants. You are not even required to stay here for the week.”

“I promised.” Why does it hurt to think he might prefer me to leave? Is he having second thoughts about the deal we made?

Rather than continue the discussion, he smiles and offers me a seat at the dining table.

Hours later, I’m filled with food and wine and curled up on his couch, looking into the darkness of the mountains.

Niko sits, sipping bourbon, and has been quiet ever since he joined me half an hour ago.

“Why did you move here, Niko?” If I am to keep my promise, I may as well get to know him. Who knows, perhaps we can become friends. A nymph can never have too many friends who aren’t lured in by the magical appeal.

He puts the crystal glass on the coffee table. “I have known a few wood nymphs and water nymphs and they all loved their places in the world. Your father told me you are special and have ties to both woods and water. Still, I thought you’d prefer to stay in your forest.”

“I wish Father hadn’t made this arrangement.” I meant for the comment to be light, but it comes out whiny.

“I know you do.” Sorrow laces his tone.

Hating that I’ve hurt his feelings, I sit up and move beside him. Resting my hand on his arm, I say, “It’s not your fault. I’m sure you’re a nice man. I don’t like being manipulated. This was unfair to both of us.”

His kilt rises, but he keeps his gaze on mine. He covers my hand with his. “It was not fair. I still can’t wish this away.”

Jerking my hand back, I sit back a foot. “Because you want to have sex with me. You’re a satyr and I’m a nymph. It’s expected that we are sexual beings. Father likely thinks he won as I won’t be able to resist you. You are both wrong.” I cross my arms over my aching breasts, wishing my body would listen to my words.

Danger flashes in his dark eyes. His full mouth pulls into a tight line. Leaning toward me, his large hand flattens on the cushion. “We are what we are, Astra. You lure in men and women with the essence of the nymph. You care for your woods and rivers as if you own them. I play and compose music just like my ancestors before me. Make no mistake, I want you. My cock has been thick and ready since the moment I first saw your photograph. It is our nature, and neither of us can fight nature. The only things standing in the way of sex are that you have not agreed, and I want more from you.”

It’s hard to breathe. The depth of his tone and intensity in his stare has my pussy screaming to give him what he wants, whatever that might be. “More?”

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