“You try walking in boots two sizes too big.” She quips, gesturing down to my old work boots on her feet.
“Maybe I should carry you on my back the rest of the way.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she leans into me, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt, as if she’s torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer. I lower my head, my lips inches from hers, the temptation almost too much to resist.
“Hunter,” she breathes, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant—this is just so much for me to process. I feel like a bird that’s just been kicked out of the nest or something.”
“I’ve got you, babe, and I’ll never let you fall.”
I’m not sure who moves first, but suddenly our lips collide, the kiss raw, desperate, filled with all the frustration and longing we’ve been holding back. It’s not gentle—it’s a clash of tongues and need, a battle of wills. I pull her closer, my hands gripping her hips, needing to feel her against me, to erase the space that’s been suffocating us both.
Lark moans into the kiss, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair, her body arching into mine. The sound sends a jolt of desire straight to my dick, and I know I’m losing control. But right now, I don’t care. Right now, all I want isher.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together for long moments.
We start moving again, the silence between us hanging heavy like the evergreen boughs above our heads. I want to say something, anything, but the words won’t come.
The path grows steeper, the rocks slick with moss, and I watch Lark carefully, ready to catch her if she stumbles again. But she doesn’t falter. She keeps moving, her steps steady, determined. And then I realize that maybe this is what she needed all along: the freedom to walk away.
Chapter Eight
Lark
The lodge rises out of the mist like a ghost—massive, imposing, and somehow comforting in its ruggedness. My steps falter as we approach. It’s strange how something so simple—a building, a structure—can represent safety and yet feel so alien at the same time. The past few days with Hunter have been wild and raw, testing every ounce of my endurance, both physically and emotionally. Now, at the edge of civilization, I feel more lost than ever.
Hunter turns, his gaze catching mine.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough, still carrying the intensity of our journey.
I nod, but my throat tightens, the words sticking.
“Yeah,” I lie, trying to sound sure.
He doesn’t buy it. His eyes, dark and piercing, hold mine with a mix of concern and something softer—something that tugs at the edges of the wall I’ve tried to keep up. “You made it this far, Lark,” he says, his tone steady. “You belong here.”
I swallow hard, forcing a shaky smile.
But do I? The lodge looms closer, and I can feel the warmth of the place radiating out, beckoning me forward. My legs feelheavy, the fear of the unknown curling tight in my stomach. This is Hunter’s world—a world of strength, certainty, and protection. I don’t know if there’s room for someone like me, someone still tangled in her own fears.
As we step onto the porch, the door swings open, and a tall figure appears in the doorway. For a second, my heart stops, my body going rigid with shock.
Cyrus.
His face is twisted with a mixture of worry and anger. “Lark!” he shouts, stepping forward, his hand reaching out like he’s about to grab me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Panic hits me hard and fast, my chest tightening, breath coming in short, shallow gasps. My instinct is to flee, to find the nearest shadow and disappear into it. I stumble back, my vision blurring, the familiar dread washing over me.
But before I can even think to move, Hunter’s arm is around me, his body a solid, immovable barrier between me and Cyrus. “Back off,” he snarls, his voice low and lethal.
Cyrus freezes, his eyes narrowing. “Who the hell are you?” he demands, his tone dripping with disdain.
“Her protector,” Hunter says coldly, his muscles coiled with barely restrained fury. “You want to come near her? You’ll have to go through me.”
Cyrus sneers, his gaze flicking between us. “Lark, you can’t hide out here forever,” he spits, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “You know you belong with me.”
The words are like acid, each one tearing at the fragile sense of safety I’ve tried to build. I press closer to Hunter, my fingers clutching the back of his jacket.
“Please, make him go,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
