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Graduating from college would be a highlight of any man's life, but Arthur Kraus is different. He’s just reached satyr maturity, and he’s going out of his mind as he's swamped with sexual urges. In a desperate moment, he invites his roommate to a Bacchanal and asks him to be his first. But after hearing the first-time stories at the Bacchanal, Arthur decides to wait for more than physical satiation—not knowing that someone has overheard his decision.
That someone, Gaelen, is special in his own way: he's the last remaining Fey, a creature of the light, innocent and pure, the protector of the remaining joy the Fey bring to the world. Though attracted to Arthur, Gaelen is afraid to trust. He knows he's being hunted for his power by a force that wants to overthrow Bacchus himself, and Gaelen will have to allow Arthur into his life if he wants to survive.
Arthur lost himself in the music just like he usually did, letting the energy and joy he felt deep inside flow out of him through his body. Grabbing Tate, he whirled his friend around the fire, giving him a taste of the energy and joy that pounded through him. “Who’s that?” A large figure stepped from the trees wearing only a pair of shorts and a loose shirt. Arthur saw Tate’s eyes widen. “What is that?”
“That’s Mr. Vauk.” Arthur watched as Tate stopped dancing, staring open-mouthed at the tall, broad satyr with huge, powerful horns and legs covered with thick, goatlike hair. “Stop staring. He’s really nice,” Arthur admonished, before bounding over and throwing himself into Vauk’s thick arms. “Mr. Vauk, I’ve been watching for you.”
“You have, huh? I take it you want to dance.” Arthur nodded and took Vauk by the hand, dragging him to where Tate was standing. At least his mouth wasn’t hanging open anymore. “Mr. Vauk, this is my roommate Tate. Tate, this is Mr. Vauk.” The huge satyr shook Tate’s hand, greeting the much smaller human warmly. “And this is Trent. He and Mr. Vauk are mates.” Tate shook Trent’s hand as well.
“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.” They made small talk for a few minutes before Arthur dragged both Tate and Trent toward the fire. He tried to drag Vauk as well, but the large satyr declined, sitting on the sand to watch instead. “Artie, he’s huge.”
Trent laughed as they danced together. “He looks fierce, but he’s really a big pussycat.” Arthur joined in Trent’s laughter because he, too, thought of Vauk as one of the kindest people he knew.
“Be that as it may, I’d give anything to have someone look at me the way he’s looking at you.” Tate shifted his gaze from Vauk to Trent.
Vauk got to his feet and stepped into the ring of dancers. The music changed instantly; thrumming, tribal rhythms replaced the flowing melodies, and Vauk pulled Trent to him. Arthur and Tate stepped back as Vauk and Trent, along with some of the other satyrs, began leaping and bounding around the fire like passionate predators stalking their sexual prey. “Holy fuck, Artie.” Tate grabbed onto Arthur’s arm, holding on to his friend as his body began to shake.
“What’s wrong, Tate?” Arthur saw his friend stiffen and his eyes roll back in his head as his fingers dug into Arthur’s arm.
His friend swallowed and tried to catch his breath, still hanging on to Arthur’s arm. “I just—shit, Artie—I just had the most powerful orgasm of my life.” Tate was breathing heavily, and Arthur helped him remain on his feet. “How can that happen?”
“You’re a human at a satyr gathering, and if what you’ve described is true, then your mind probably got overwhelmed by all the sexual energy.” Arthur pulled Tate into the woods toward the shelter that Travis had said they could use. Retrieving a towel, he handed it to Tate so he could clean himself up. “Do you want to dance some more?”
“No. I think I need to lie down for a while.” Tate sat down on the cushion that covered the floor then lay back on top of the blankets.
“Can I bring you something to eat or drink?”
Tate yawned. “That would be really nice, Artie. Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.” Arthur went back to the clearing and filled two plates, getting two glasses of beer before returning to the shelter. “I got some food and beer.”
“Thanks.” He sat up and together they wolfed down the food and drained their mugs. “This is really good. Does Cembran make the food?”
Arthur shook his head. There was no way he could tell Tate where everything for the bacchanal came from. “I’ll tell you in the morning.” When they were done, he set the plates and glasses on a small shelf and slipped off his pants and shirt before climbing beneath the blankets. Tate followed suit, and soon Tate was curled in Arthur’s arms “Good night, Tate.”
“Night, Artie. Thanks for bringing me with you. I’ll never forget this. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” Tate yawned and began to fall asleep.
Neither of them could see, but just beyond the trees, someone else said a silent good-night, watching as they fell asleep before silently melting into the forest.