Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

H unter

"Are we close?" Lark's voice is soft.

I quicken my pace, closing the distance between us. "Another mile or two."

She nods but doesn't look back, her ponytail swishing sharply as she picks up speed. I let out a low sigh, feeling the weight of everything I can't put into words pressing down on me.

We keep moving, the terrain getting rougher as the path narrows, rocks jutting up from the ground and roots snaking underfoot. It's the kind of trail that demands focus, and for a while, it's enough to keep us silent. But I can't stop thinking about the way Lark looked at me this morning—with love and honesty and promise.

She stumbles on a loose rock, and I'm there in an instant, my hand catching her elbow to steady her. The jolt of contact sends a familiar surge of heat through me.

"I've got it," she murmurs.

"I'm just trying to protect you," I say.

Lark smiles softly. "That's kind of you—you've been kinder than anyone has ever been to me, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can't really be this… nice all the time, can you?"

Her word hits harder than I'd like to admit. "Lark—all I can think about is protecting you."

The trail narrows even more, forcing us to walk side by side, our shoulders nearly brushing.

"I don't want you to worry about protecting me," she finally replies. "I just want you. I just want a normal life where happiness and love feels natural. Instead I feel like a needy, undeserving child."

The words are like a punch to the gut, a mix of desire and fear that twists inside me. I want to grab her, kiss her until she forgets every reason she has to feel unworthy. I want to love her pain away, and then kill the mother fuckers that made her feel so unwanted and unworthy. "Lark—I'd kill anyone that ever tried to hurt you."

She doesn't reply, only nodding and wiping at emotion in her eyes. The silence stretches, filled with everything we're not saying. I want to tell her that I'm not worth the risk, that I've got too much darkness in me to be good for anyone, least of all her. I've seen too much death and destruction, connecting with a woman as soft and sweet as her feels like a thousand mortars going off in my chest. But I don't say anything, because maybe I am the right man for her. Maybe she needs someone that's touched darkness to know light when he sees it, to show her she's worth the world and I'd carry it on my shoulders for eternity if that's what it took to show her the love she deserves.

Suddenly, Lark's foot slips again, and she stumbles sideways. Instinct kicks in, and I catch her around the waist, pulling her close before she can hit the ground. The impact sends a shock of heat through me, and for a moment, neither of us moves. Her body is pressed against mine, her breathing rapid, her eyes wide.

"So pretty and so clumsy," I tease.

"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 is her .

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.