The storm comes out of nowhere, a sudden roar of wind and rain crashing through the trees, turning the forest into chaos. I grab Lark’s arm, pulling her close as we scramble for cover.
“This way!” I shout over the deafening rain, guiding her through the downpour. The ground turns to slick mud beneath our boots, making each step treacherous, but I keep her moving, my grip firm on her arm.
Ahead, I spot the dark mouth of a cave, half-hidden behind tangled brush.
“In here!” I yell, pushing her inside before following. The instant we’re under the rocky overhang, the noise shifts from pounding chaos to muffled fury. We’re drenched, the rain still hammering the ground outside, but at least we’re out of the worst of it.
I press my back against the damp wall, trying to catch my breath. Lark stands a few feet away, her wet clothes clinging to her, her chest heaving. Her eyes are wide, a mix of adrenaline and something else—something I’ve been seeing more of lately, but haven’t dared to act on.
“This storm isn’t letting up anytime soon,” I say, my voice rough. “We’re stuck here for a while.”
Lark nods, her teeth chattering. “Great. Just what I wanted—to be trapped in a cave with you.”
Her attempt at sarcasm doesn’t hide the shiver that runs through her. The cave is cold and damp, and her soaked clothes aren’t helping. I drop my pack, digging through it until I find a dry shirt and a blanket. “Take this,” I say, handing her the shirt. “Get out of those wet clothes before you freeze.”
She hesitates, her eyes darting toward the cave’s entrance as if she’d rather brave the storm than be vulnerable with me. But the cold wins out. She turns her back, peeling off her wet jacket and dress. I try not to watch, but it’s impossible not to notice the smooth expanse of her bare back as she slips my dry shirt over her head.
I tear my gaze away, busying myself with lighting a small fire near the cave’s entrance. The wood is damp, but I manage to get a small flame going. It’s not much, but it offers a bit of warmth and light in the cave’s suffocating darkness.
When I turn back to Lark, she’s sitting close to the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes locked on the flames.
“Better?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She nods, but there’s an edge to her gaze.
“I’m fine,” she mutters, but her shivering says otherwise.
I sit down next to her, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. “You’re not fine,” I say bluntly. “You’re freezing.”
Lark stiffens, her pride making her resist even the smallest sign of weakness. “I’m used to the cold.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to suffer through it,” I reply, shifting closer. I stretch my legs out, then pull her toward me, settling her between my thighs.
“Body heat’s the best way to warm up,” I add, my voice taking on a deeper timbre.
She freezes for a second, her back rigid against my chest. But the cold gets the better of her, and she slowly relaxes, leaning into me. The feel of her, warm and soft, stirs something deep inside me—a need I’ve been fighting since the moment we met.
“You don’t have to play hero all the time, you know,” Lark murmurs, her voice barely audible over the storm’s roar. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”
“Never thought you were,” I say, my lips close to her ear. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to take care of you.”
Her breath catches, and I can feel the tension coiled tight in her muscles. “Why?” she asks, a hint of vulnerability breaking through. “Why do you care so much?”
The question throws me off balance. It’s raw, honest, and it cuts through the layers I’ve built around myself.
“Because you’re worth it,” I say simply, my voice rougher than I intend.
She doesn’t respond right away, but I can feel her breathing grow uneven, her body pressing back against mine, as if she’s testing the boundaries of this moment.
“Hunter,” she says finally, her voice a soft plea, filled with uncertainty.
I can’t hold back anymore. I shift my position, turning her to face me. Her eyes are wide, uncertain, but there’s a spark there—something hungry, something real. “Lark,” I murmur, my voice low, rough with desire. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want us.”
Her lips part, and she lets out a shaky breath. “I do,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “But I don’t know how.”
The honesty in her words breaks something inside me. It’s the kind of vulnerability that makes my need for her feel almost unbearable.
“Then let me show you,” I say, my voice thick with raw need.
