"You were supposed to be a bath bomb!"
"Well turns out its your lucky day, sweetheart, cause you just got something ten times better: me."
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In which a bath bomb from Walmart turns out to be an over cocky, ridiculously hot, yet surpris...
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[Narrator's POV] The satyr dragged himself painfully down the dark alley. Warring emotions between hate and dread tore at him.
It was night out and barely any humans were on the streets. He'd shed his weak costume of flannel and overalls and was limping in the empty streets with his furry legs displayed for all to see. It was a risk, but after being chucked out the window by that damn son of Poseidon and spending all afternoon picking thorns out of his skin and hide, the satyr was beyond caring.
Just the thought of Poseidon's son made him bare his teeth in fury. He had been following the demigod and his little Mortal pet all day, hoping to catch them unawares. Unfortunately he'd been the one caught unawares.
Now deep apprehension gnawed at his stomach as he reached the end of the alley. He'd failed his mission. The Mistress was not going to be happy at all.
Stiffly, the satyr got down on one knee and bowed. "My Lady." His shrill voice echoed harshly off the alley. "I have come."
At first silence greeted him and for a moment hope rose in the satyr. Maybe the Mistress had an unexpected mission and was gone. Or better yet she'd returned to Olympus temporarily.
His hope was quickly dashed as the sound of clicking heels reverberated off the alley walls. it took all his might not to curl into a miserable ball.
"Where is he?" The female voice behind him hissed.
"He... ah, uh...." The satyr fumbled for words.
But the Mistress wasn't having it. In a flash her cold grip grabbed one of the satyr's horns and pain exploded into his skull.
He cried out as the Mistress invaded his mind and sifted through all his memories in the past few hours. Scenes flashed through his mind— sneaking into the house, hiding the notecard, following the Mortal and Poseidon's son (the Mistress hissed when Poseidon's son's face appeared), being tackled, water, the window...
"He threw you out a window?"
The satyr released a breath when the tight grip on his horn melted away. He nodded, shamefully.
I don't like it." The Mistress bared her teeth, turning back onto subject. "Why is he staying with that Mortal? It's almost as if he's enjoying himself with her."
"He probably just wants to get in her pants," the satyr couldn't help but mutter.
"No, this is different," the Mistress muttered venomously under her breath. "He's protecting her."
The satyr's eyes snapped wide open. "But that's impossible!" He gasped. "He doesn't protect women. He's the Womanizer of the Four Winds!"
"Don't call him that!" The Mistress yowled in rage.
