Page 2 of The Satyr Next Door
He moved gracefully, and with purpose, pruning shears flashing as he tamed a vine. The morning sun worshiped him. And my eyes drank in every inch of his torso with that narrow trail of hair leading down past skin into tawny fur, powerful haunches and hooves pressing into Baltimore dirt.
Heat curled low in my belly, spreading in places that had been cold for too long.
Then he looked up.
Warm brown eyes locked onto mine. He didn’t look away. He smiled. Slow. Like he could taste my interest.
Merda. Could he?
“Ah,” he called, voice rich and unaccented, “my Juliet appears on her balcony. Though we’re missing moonlight for proper romance.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “It’s eight in the morning.”
He shrugged, muscles rolling, lifting the shears in salute. “Then you’ll be my sunrise.”
The words landed like a physical touch. Like someone had seen me. Not Ma, not the woman who forgot to buy milk at the store, not the translator currently buried in maritime law, butme. A woman worth calling beautiful.
"Bit much for pruning weeds, don't you think?" I managed, gripping the railing, hard enough my knuckles went white. My silk shorts suddenly felt transparent, my tank top too thin.
His gaze traveled over me slowly, appreciatively, leaving trails of fire in its wake. When our eyes met again, they held the smug knowledge of exactly what his attention was doing to me, of how my body was betraying me.
His smile curved wickedly. “Beautiful women deserve beautiful words, even at eight in the morning.”
Something low in me clenched, shameless and hungry. I laughed too quickly, too breathless, and stumbled backward like some Victorian virgin catching sight of an ankle.
The coffee mug slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering across the balcony in a spray of ceramic and desperation.
“Cazzo!” The curse slipped out before I could stop it.
His laughter followed me inside, rich, sinful, echoing in my too-small bedroom. It tangled with the scent of wild herbs and something earthier drifting from the yard, something that made me think of summer and wine-soaked nights and hands that knew exactly how to touch a woman’s body.
I pressed my back against the door, heart pounding like I’d run a marathon instead of fled a conversation. I was a grown woman with two kids, a mortgage, and a translation deadline looming. I didn’t have time for fantasies about neighbors with warm brown eyes and voices that made me want things I hadn’t thought about in years.
And yet… my skin still buzzed where his gaze had touched. Despite all rational thought, I was already inventing excuses to go back outside. The balcony needed sweeping. The railing needed paint.
Hell, maybe I needed fixing.
Chapter 2
Cal
I hadn’t expected anyone to be home.
By eight-thirty, these neighborhoods emptied out. All the humans hustling to offices, classrooms, coffee shops. That had been one of the selling points when the Baltimore Integration Council showed me the property. Privacy. A chance to exist without the stares, the whispers, the children asking why the man with goat legs didn’t wear shoes.
The Convergence had happened just over a year ago, and humans were still adjusting. Some days better than others.
So I’d planned my morning accordingly: rise early, tame the wilderness that had swallowed the row house's backyard whole, work up a proper sweat without an audience cataloging every difference. Kudzu strangled the fence posts. Virginia creeper smothered the porch. The vines wanted war.
Perfect. I had nothing but time, and violence was excellent therapy.
The shears bit through a thick stem with a satisfying crack. Sweat rolled down my spine, pooling where skin gave way to tawny fur. The September sun promised heat later, the kind of afternoon made for shade and wine and long, lazy hours doing absolutely nothing.
That’s when I felt it. The prickle between my shoulder blades. Was it predator, prey… or simply an interested female?
Usually, that kind of attention meant curiosity. The uncomfortable kind that ended with someone taking photos for social media.
But this felt different. Hungrier.
