Page 27 of Ignited By My Mate

I grin. “I’m shocked.”

She beams and presses a kiss to my cheek before squirming down and racing back toward the kitchen, where the smell of vanilla and sugar is thick enough to bite into.

“Don’t run!” Lark calls out from behind the counter, a smudge of flour on her cheek and an apron tied around her waist. She turns to me with a smile that still knocks the breath right out of my lungs. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, yourself.”

I cross the room, wrap my arms around her from behind, and rest my chin on her shoulder. Her body fits against mine like it always has. Like it always will.

“You smell good,” I murmur. “Something cinnamon-y?”

“Snickerdoodles,” she says, leaning into me. “For your pack meeting later.”

“God, I love you.”

She smiles and twists to face me, her hand resting on my chest. “Still?”

“Always.”

I kiss her, slow and sweet, tasting sugar and home and forever. She hums into my mouth, one hand sliding into my hair.

There are still moments where I can’t believe she’s real. That she chose this. Choseme.

In five years, we’ve built a life I never dreamed I could have. She runs a local marketing business now, helping small shops in town with social media and branding. She turned her skillset into something that makes a difference here. People trust her. Hell, they adore her.

I’m still at the firehouse, still chasing flames, but I come home tothem. Every night.

My mate. My cub. My pack.

And speaking of...

The front door opens again, and Logan steps inside, followed by Tucker, Crew, Miles, and Jensen. They all greet Lark with hugs, steal a few cookies off the cooling rack, and ruffle Ivy’s hair as she darts between them like a tiny tornado.

Jensen has a toddler on his hip now—his son, Dean—and I shake my head at how fast time flies. The younger generation of our pack is growing. Strong. Loved. Safe.

“Pack meeting or cookie raid?” I ask.

Miles shrugs. “Why not both?”

Lark laughs and shakes her head, handing Ivy a book and promising a bedtime story in a few minutes. Ivy scampers up the stairs after Miles’ son, leaving a trail of giggles in her wake.

Lark leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be upstairs in a bit.”

“Don’t be long,” I murmur.

Then it’s just the guys and me in the living room. We settle into our usual spots. The fire crackles, casting warm shadows across the walls. This room has seen strategy, laughter, heartbreak, and brotherhood.

Miles pulls out a folder and passes it to me. “Update on that fire last week. It was a lightning strike that started it.”

I nod, tossing the folder onto the counter. “Anything else we need to discuss?”

We talk about a budgeting meeting coming up, and the meeting eventually turns into beers and banter. Old stories. New jokes. Someone burns the popcorn and blames Miles’ toddler.

And the whole time, I feel her upstairs. Lark.

When the guys clear out and the house quiets, I head up to check on my girls.

Ivy is asleep in her room, curled up with a bear plushie Lark made her last Christmas. She looks peaceful and innocent—the best part of both of us.

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