“Look, despite the monster you think I am, I do care. If someone’s out there who hurt you, I want to make it right. You’re my responsibility now. I was told a long time ago I’d find you, and I had to keep you safe.”
“That doesn’t sound stalkery at all. I’m not your responsibility, and you can’t fix anything.”
“But you are my responsibility!” He didn’t know why he shouted. The more Lily despaired and pleaded with him, the more he felt like the very monster he claimed he wasn’t. If he could only think of a way to ease her into the revelation of her true nature, to lessen the blow, maybe the week would be enough time to come to terms, but then...a week wasn’t a long period of time at all.
Ariston glanced at her, and she promptly flipped him the bird. His temper exploded. “Don’t tempt me, girl. There is only one way for me to break my curse, and I would rather not ruin it by being goaded by you.”
“Don’t yell at me!”
“You’re yelling at me!”
They glowered at each other, both eventually turning away. Very mature. He understood her reaction, mostly, but couldn’t figure out why he was getting so angry. When he shifted in his seat, the jeans seemed painfully constricting. His irritation had distracted him from his need for her. It was then Ariston realized he’d never break the curse if he shouted at her the whole week. But she wasn’t being cooperative! Which made his frustration worse because he knew he couldn’t blame her for it.
“Look, I’m sorry for losing my temper and for scaring you. I said I would give it to you straight, and I will. It’s...not something you will probably enjoy learning about yourself. Maybe you’d prefer me telling you later, after you know me better?”
“I don’t want to know you at all. You might as well tell me whatever the hell it is you think you know about me so I have time to consign myself to my fate.”
Fine. He wrapped his fingers over the top of the chair back. His knuckled turned white as he clenched the wood. He wouldn’t chase after her—immediately—if she ran. He would give her a few minutes to deal. “A curse made me a satyr, but the only way to break it is to have sex with a nymph under the Satyr Moon. The lunar eclipse.” There, it was put out there into the uncomfortable space between them, as straight to the point as possible.
Lily snorted. “Now nymphs are real too? What do they do, prance around in tutus and jiggle their bare breasts at all the men they cavort past?”
Now there’s an intriguing thought...
“I wouldn’t know how they behave these days. They are invisible to satyrs unless they seek them out on their own. Which has never happened before...” Take the bait.
“So, you’re what? Hanging out in the woods, waiting for a spritely wood nymph to glide over and straddle you?”
“In a matter of speaking.”
She rolled her eyes. “I bet you count the days until each eclipse too.”
“Six more days.”
Her grin faded. “But you said you only needed my help for something in a wee...no. You’re full of shit.”
And she gets it.
“You’re a nymph, Lily.” Something more than human, like him. A common ground.
She laughed, but when he didn’t join in, she seemed to sober up. “I’m supposed to be okay with this? I am supposed to bide my time, forget about my life, and spread my legs for you the night of an eclipse because you think I have a magical vagina that cures satyrism?”
Well, when she put it like that, it did sound pretty crude and silly. Ariston knew he stuck his hoof in his mouth even as he replied, “You may not like it now, but it is in both of our natures to do this. It is what we were made to do. Nymphs love sex. Satyrs love sex. One night, no strings, we both go our separate ways after.”
Lily’s eyes narrowed dangerously once again, and though he wasn’t Catholic, or even Christian, he suppressed the urge to cross himself. “Ariston, it doesn’t matter about liking sex or not. You say I’m this nymph you’ve apparently revered your entire life, but I’m just a girl who accidently stumbled across you in the mountains. Sex means something to me. I don’t jump the bones of anyone I come across to scratch an itch. I have never been one to do that. To me, it is about respect, which I haven’t been feeling from you at all. I’m sorry, but I don’t know you, and I cannot be part of your little ritual or whatever it is. Please, for the love of God, let me go.”
His eyelids lowered, a reflex so he didn’t have to see the pitiful expression on her face. He laid his head against the back of the chair and sighed. “I can’t let you leave. I can’t.”
Chapter Five
Nymph, her ass. Lily couldn’t even think the word without scoffing. For starters, it was simply ridiculous. Secondly, it was the root word in nymphomaniac, and she was so not one of those, no matter what Donovan had to say about. Succubus. Nymph. What’s next? Would she return to the real world after she escaped from Goatman and be accused of sleeping her way through an entire neighborhood? Would they pin a scarlet N to her chest, proclaiming her a roaring nympho? She’d never slept with anyone she wasn’t in a committed relationship with at the time! Closing her eyes, she wished the nightmare would end.
I should’ve never taken that job with Bach Industries. The marketing department there had placed an opening for a photographer, and one of Donovan’s friends passed the word along to him to give to her. Freelance photography paid most of her bills, as working part time in the food court could only take her so far. In fact, taking wedding photos paid for the week worth of camping, replacing shabby gear with new stuff, as well as the SD card and new lens she’d needed for the job. The gig was pay on delivery, a hefty amount too, and since she was held captive, she’d never turn anything in. She wouldn’t even be paid for her week from hell or reimbursed for her trouble.
And that oaf who captured her had violated her privacy by scavenging through her pack. He’d gone back to collect it while she’d been unconscious, and forced her to show him how to work her camera in order to access the gallery and prove she’d not been spying on him. Luckily, since it was a new SD card, it mostly held a hefty collection of wildlife and nature images. There were a few of her and Donovan she’d planned on saving and separating when she returned home. She’d deleted the ones of Donovan while Ariston hovered over her shoulder, and prayed she didn’t cry again. She did not plan on making breaking down a habit. She lied about why she’d done it, claiming to be protecting him from being captured too.
Ariston hadn’t said much besides a barely audible, “He doesn’t look like he’s big or threatening to me.” She’d refused to be baited and ignored him, even when he tried to tell her about himself, satyrs in general, and nymphs. She didn’t care about any of it and didn’t understand why he couldn’t accept that.
Bludgeoning her skull against the headboard sounded better by the minute. Lily wouldn’t do it, of course, but the thought had merit. It would serve that goaty bastard right to have to scrape my brain matter off his bed. She huffed, frustrated.
A sting of guilt fluttered through her gut at thinking another goat comment. She knew it offended him, but Ariston was infuriating! He thought dropping those bombs on her were helpful? Okay, so she forced him into spilling, but gah! She hadn’t accepted anything as fact yet.
Lily craned her neck to view her right wrist, handcuffed to the headboard. She was fairly certain the nightmare was real. Ariston deserved the digs she’d given him and would toss at him again as soon as he returned. Bastard left her cuffed to his bed so he could “hunt down dinner.” What the hell year did he think it was? A zillion years ago B.C.?
She’d scoffed about laws and hunting seasons, but he’d only smiled at her like she was adorable and said, “I do what I want. Besides, satyrs don’t follow human laws.” He’d escorted her to the bathroom across the cabin. She’d seen the radio equipment, computer, and even a cell phone on a cluttered desktop in the farthest corner of the room. Did he monitor humans to make sure they didn’t find his satyr stronghold? And did he
even have cell phone service? When hers had worked, it’d been shoddy at best.
After she’d used the bathroom, Lily took her time as she washed up, realizing there was no other way out besides through the door Ariston stood behind. No razors or scissors could be found—bastard had thought ahead and removed anything useful as a weapon. Resigned, she’d exited and dragged her feet back to her new prison bedroom. And when she made herself comfortable, or as comfortable as one could be around Ariston, the jackass cuffed her to the bed so fast she’d only been able to make a gasping noise like a landlocked fish in her defense. He’d muttered something which sounded like, “Sorry. Keeping you out of trouble for a bit,” before he’d announced he was leaving.
That had been well over an hour ago. And sitting there, cuffed to the bed, made her think about all the things she’d pretended not to listen to. Satyrs needed sex like food, but they could go without it for weeks if they had to. Nymphs had naturally enhanced sexual stamina and craved it more than human women normally did. Hmmph. She craved sex with him like she craved a cleaver to the brain.
In short, that B.S. wasn’t gonna happen. Ever.
She shifted awkwardly. Even worse than the mythology lessons he’d forced on her, Lily kept imagining the ritual she was to take part in. Similar to a virgin sacrificed to the gods, she wagered she’d be dressed in a sheath of white fabric and Ariston as naked as he’d been in that clearing of wildflowers. He’d push the material from her shoulders, the eclipse above them, blotting out the light on the world below. Abandoning her to her fate with the beast below.
Fuuuuuck. She had to stop thinking about sex with him. It wasn’t healthy. She was his prisoner and victim. She did not need to fantasize about him. What is wrong with me?
She tugged at the cuffs, the abrasive metal chafing her flesh as she struggled. The short chain between the cuff around her wrist and the bedpost didn’t allow her much freedom. The wood of the headboard was thicker above where he’d snapped it into place, so without a key or a saw she wasn’t breaking free. What kind of satyr carried around handcuffs anyway? He had his enchanted flute to enslave people with, why the hardware?
Unless he was a kinky satyr...
Hell no! Lily did a lot of things, but she considered herself pleasantly vanilla at the end of the day. She didn’t do anything too weird. The last thing she needed was some sex-crazed Neapolitan satyr mixing other flavors into her happy state of being. She’d sooner become a nun. Never mind that she’d be terrible at it.
If she was a nymph—she wasn’t jumping on the bandwagon there—shouldn’t she be magical or something? She concentrated really hard on popping the handcuffs with the power of her thoughts. When that didn’t work, she imagined herself turning into a tree. Then a puddle. Then a water reed. No go. See? Not a damned nymph.
Her rational mind reminded her, mockingly, that Ariston said they needed to be among those objects to blend into them. Turning into a pillow, a bed sheet, or a handcuff key didn’t happen either. Lily’s head pounded and her failed attempts of transforming herself with no avail took its toll.
The longer she sat there chained to a bed that smelled of forest and man, the more confused she became. Ariston was a kidnapping half-goat weirdo who obviously planned to rape her ritualistically Friday—if she didn’t become docile and get on board with the plan. He’d probably dissect her afterward, alive, and offer her organs to Pan or Dionysus in exchange for his humanity back.
Oh, he’d told her all about how he’d been cursed at a would-have-been-orgy where Pan and Dionysus had become heated over the virginity of some poor nymph chick who’d made up her own mind about who she slept with—good for her! At least it would’ve been if she’d lived through the night, but still. It seemed ancient times weren’t much better than the present. Men still assumed they had control over women’s vaginas, but didn’t think it mattered where their own dicks were at any given time.
Lily began to understand why feminists were so worked up over the subject. She’d never been much of a feminist herself, but being told she’d have sex in six days with a man she’d just met and didn’t like kind of brought out the indignity building up over her current predicament.
She wished she had something more pleasant to think about. First thing to mind? How handsome Ariston was despite the fact he looked like a wild man with all that hair, and he needed to keep his clothes on because she was so not turned on by his chiseled abs or scrumptious man-thighs or those arms...
Throat suddenly dry, she swallowed and shifted once more. She had to get out of there. Ariston was an attractive man, oddities notwithstanding, but a line needed to be drawn somewhere. There wouldn’t be any curse-breaking with her. Especially since she shouldn’t find him attractive at all. Her survival stemmed from her not giving into his charms; something which could work out, given his temper. He flipped from seductive to irate at the drop of a hat, and while it was disconcerting, it served to keep her libido in check. Lily severely disliked being snapped at when she’d done nothing wrong.
He said he’d been holding out on sex, and you prevented his fix. Perhaps he’s sexually frustrated and taking it out on you.
That train of thought would only lead to her doom. And where the hell was Donovan? This was all his fault! If he hadn’t gone and left her stranded, they’d be on their way home that very minute, and she would have never run into Ariston.
Hate him. Satyrs bad. Sex with satyrs, despicable. Stop thinking about his abs. Don’t think of them. Don’t do it. Oh, but he’s ripped. Men these days had to work out practically every day of every week to retain that kind of physical form. He had been cursed into keeping it. What had he said? Oh, that only his hair and nails ever changed or showed signs of growth. Heh…I saw another sign of growth in the clearing. Disgusted with herself, she knocked the back of her skull against the headboard a few times, hoping it would jar common sense back to life.
Inactivity clearly didn’t do her any favors. Nut up or shut up, Anders. She used all her strength to yank her cuff, but there was no give to the bed or the chain. Her wrist on the other hand? It would be bruised for sure. With nothing else to lose, she thrashed and kicked and even attempted to wiggle off the bed and drag the damn thing. Did he nail this shit down? When the pain of straining her wrist was too much, she finally ceased. Her skin had turned a remarkable shade of violet red, and there was a smear of blood where she’d scraped her flesh against the harsh metal.
“You’re no quitter. Bones will heal. Brace yourself.” She clenched all her muscles, taking an exaggerated, calming breath. Lily then pulled, pushed, and rolled about like a lunatic. If she snapped her wrist she might be able to slip her hand through the cuff. They did it in movies right?
How did things end up the way they were? Donovan? Satyrs and nymphs? Gods? Normalcy beckoned her from afar; she only had to free herself to reach it. She kicked the wall. It hurt. The cabin had logs for the walls and they were firmly in place. Had they been made of drywall, she could’ve done some damage, maybe. Breaking her wrist though, was hardcore survivalist. Doing it would take more courage than nursing it afterward. Turning her wrist at an odd angle, she made to smash it against the headboard...and didn’t budge.
She couldn’t do it.
Lily screamed until her throat was raw from it. When she gained no response, she begged the ceiling above her for a reprieve, not even sure what she reacted to anymore. Ariston? Donovan? Everything combined? It was all too much, and on top of it, she was a coward who couldn’t even break her wrist to escape.
“Let me out of these handcuffs, you crazy old goat. I have to pee!”
She didn’t really, but he didn’t have to know that. Where was he? She pictured him hiding outside and listening to her struggles with a smile on his face. Jerk.
The strangest thing happened next. Somehow, the window on the wall at the foot of the bed opened. The glass frame lifted on its own, allowing in a gentle breeze. Lily stared at it, afraid to speak at first, waiting for someone t
o peek inside. No one did. “Um...hello? Ariston?” Her throat hurt from overusing her voice.
No answer.
The window loomed from the middle of the wall, directly above the foot of the bed, so if anyone was there, they concealed themselves. They weren’t even reflected in what she could see of the glass over the opening. That actually frightened her more than Ariston ever did. He hadn’t hidden his true form from her. Whoever stood at the window didn’t want her to see them at all.
“So...you aren’t Ariston then?”
No answer.
“Listen. I am handcuffed to the bed.” She cringed. If she lived in a horror film, she’d die first. “The creeper who did it left me here. Could you please help me instead of standing there like a serial killer in hiding? Thanks, I appreciate it.”
A scuffling sounded near the window, and then something silvery flashed in the dim afternoon light as it fell on the bed near her feet. Was that? It is!
The mysterious stranger had tossed a small key through the window for her. But would it fit the cuffs? Despite Donovan’s claims that Lily was the head whore of Whoretown, she’d never been handcuffed and had never used them. She wasn’t sure if all keys were the same or if they were designed specifically to fit one lock.
“Thanks, um, whoever you are? Don’t kill me, ‘kay?”
She mentally cursed Ariston for leaving her shoes and socks on. Toes would have been so useful if they weren’t covered up. With some maneuvering, she used her heel to drag the key part of the way up the bed. She pulled the ivory colored quilt to drag it closer, and then she twisted her body, stretching as far as she could go and wrapped her fingers around the tiny metal offering. Turning back around so she could slip the key into the lock proved more difficult. Once she did, Lily pushed the key in with a slight twist, and the cuff popped open, freeing her wrist.
The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection Page 34