“You taste sweet, Sunshine,” he says, his voice low and filled with hunger. He presses his lips to mine, forcing me to taste myself. “We have all the time in the world, beautiful. I can wait as long as you need. But everything we’re doing here is aboutyourhappiness,yourcomfort. You’re mine, Lark,” he repeats, his voice low and demanding. “You come first. Always.”
He enters me in one swift, powerful thrust, his body claiming mine completely. I cry out, the sound echoing off the riverbank, raw and filled with pleasure. Hunter doesn’t hold back, his movements rough, possessive, driving me higher and higher.
“Oh God,” I gasp, my hands clutching at him, my body meeting his with equal intensity. “I love you, always and forever, Hunter Warner.”
He growls, teeth catching my bottom lip and dragging slowly as his need for me consumes him. The world fades away, leaving only the heat of his skin, the roughness of his hands, and the steady rhythm of our bodies. It’s wild, untamed, and completely us.
When we finally reach the edge, I shatter, my cries mingling with his as we find release together. He collapses on top of me, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing ragged.
We lie there for a long time, the river’s gentle flow a soothing backdrop to our heavy breathing. The sun is warm on our skin, the air filled with the promise of a life we’re just beginning to build.
“I meant what I said,” Hunter murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “I want babies. I want a family—with you.”
I turn my head, meeting his gaze, my heart full.
“Then let’s start trying,” I say, my voice steady, filled with love.
His grin is slow, wicked.
“Oh, we will,” he promises.
He kisses me again, sealing a love that’s as wild and untamed as Devil’s Peak itself.
Second Epilogue
Hunter–one year later
The sun is warm on my back as I look over the group of wide-eyed Boy Scouts gathered in front of me. They’re hanging on my every word as I show them how to start a fire from nothing but a few sticks and some dry moss. I’ve run this survival class more times than I can count, but today feels different.
Today, there’s a new reason to teach these boys what it means to survive, to thrive in the wild. My eyes drift toward the front porch of the lodge, where Lark is sitting in one of the wooden rocking chairs, cradling our newborn son, Finn, in her arms.
Finn’s tiny, perfect face is relaxed, his cheeks round and rosy. He’s sound asleep in her arms, one chubby fist resting against his mouth. I’ve seen a lot of things up here on Devil’s Peak, but I’ve never seen anything that makes me feel as fiercely protective as the sight of Lark holding our son.
“Okay, guys,” I say, clapping my hands together, “that's it for today. Remember what I told you: always respect the mountain, and it’ll respect you right back.”
The boys cheer and gather up their gear, their excitement palpable as they head off toward the trailhead, their scoutleaders keeping them in line. I watch them go, feeling a mix of pride and satisfaction. But it’s nothing compared to what waits for me on that porch.
I stride toward the lodge, my eyes locked on Lark. She’s watching me, her gaze warm and steady, her smile soft and filled with a love that makes my chest tighten. Her hair catches the light, glowing like fire, and she looks as wild and beautiful as the day I first found her up here.
“You make a good teacher,” she says as I step onto the porch, her voice low and teasing.
I grin, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“And you make a good mama,” I reply, my voice rough with emotion.
She blushes, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “He’s your spitting image,” she says, glancing down at Finn. “Chubby cheeks, strong jaw, dark eyes and that same stubborn streak.”
I reach out, running a finger gently over Finn’s soft cheek. “He’s got your fire, Lark,” I murmur. “I can see it in his eyes.”
Lark’s smile widens, her eyes bright with a mix of joy and exhaustion.
“Let’s hope he’s a better sleeper than his daddy,” she teases.
I chuckle, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“I think I just met the clumsiest ski bunny up on the slope—” my friend Aiden trots up to us on the porch. He nods respectfully at my mom, who sits in her rocking chair next to us, and then sends a wave and a smile at Lark.
“You mean that private lesson with the city girl you were telling me about?”
