Page 28 of Howl For A Kiss
Dear God, the man could kiss.
Damon's control seemed to slip as a low growl rumbled from his chest. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her flush against his powerful frame until she could feel every hard inch of him. The kiss deepened, becoming something primal and claiming that made her wolf sing with satisfaction.
This. This was what she'd been missing her entire life.
But just as Elena was preparing to melt completely into his touch, Damon suddenly pulled back, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against hers. "Elena," he said, his voice strained with barely leashed control. "We shouldn't be doing this here. It's too public."
Reality crashed back over her like cold water. They were standing in the middle of Cade's compound where any of her rebels or his fighters could see them. Where questions would be asked and assumptions made about her judgment and leadership.
He was right. Again. The man was always right about these tactical decisions while she threw caution to the wind.
"You're always the voice of reason to my reckless impulses," she murmured, still breathless from their kiss.
Damon's lips quirked into that rare smile that made her heart skip. "And you're the storm to my calm. Somehow, it works."
TWELVE
DAMON
The November wind cut through the morning air like a sharp blade, and Damon felt Elena shiver against him despite the heat still radiating between them from that earth-shattering kiss. His wolf was practically howling with satisfaction—finallyshe'd made the first move he'd been dreaming about since that first electric handshake at her rebel base.
"We really need to get you inside," he said, his voice rough as he reluctantly stepped back from her warmth. "It's freezing, and you've been out here without a jacket too long."
Elena nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as the reality of the cold seemed to hit her all at once. "You're right. I can barely feel my fingers."
Damon resisted the urge to take her hands and warm them himself—they'd already pushed the boundaries of public displays far enough for one morning. Instead, he placed a protective hand on her lower back and guided her toward the cabin.
"Take a hot shower," he suggested as they reached the front door. "I'll make us some breakfast."
"That sounds perfect," Elena said, and the grateful smile she gave him made his chest tighten with an emotion he wasn't ready to fully acknowledge yet.
As Elena disappeared down the hallway toward her bedroom, Damon headed for the small kitchen area, his mind still reeling from the taste of her lips and the way she'd melted into his arms. His mate was everything he'd never known he needed—brilliant, fierce, vulnerable, and devastatingly beautiful. The perfect match for his controlled nature and buried intensity.
The kitchen was already showing signs of life as several of Elena's rebels milled about, making coffee and stretching away the remnants of sleep. Damon surveyed the available ingredients, his culinary instincts kicking in as he formulated a plan.
If he was going to be Elena's second-in-command, he needed to win over her people. And nothing said loyalty like a home-cooked meal.
He pulled eggs, bacon, and fresh bread from the stores Cade had provided, along with some vegetables that would work well for a hearty breakfast hash. As he began cracking eggs into a large bowl, Maggie approached with cautious curiosity.
"You cook?" she asked, her tone suggesting this wasn't what she'd expected from a rebel fighter.
"Part of military training," Damon replied smoothly, whisking the eggs with practiced efficiency. It wasn't entirely a lie—he'd learned to cook during his early Beta years when he'd needed something to occupy his hands and mind during the long, lonely nights. "Logan always said a well-fed team is an effective team."
Maggie nodded approvingly, but her eyes remained sharp with interest. "You trained directly under Logan? That's impressive. He's got quite a reputation."
Damon began laying strips of bacon in the large skillet, keeping his expression neutral despite the dangerous territory this conversation was heading into. "Logan's... intense. But fair. He taught me that precision matters more than brute force."
"And before that training? What pack territory are you originally from?"
That question hit closer to home than Damon was comfortable with, but he'd prepared for this. "Born and raised in Silvercrest territory. Lost my parents young, so the military training became my family."
It was mostly true, though he omitted the part about becoming Beta at eighteen and spending the last fifteen years enforcing pack law. Maggie seemed to accept the explanation, her posture relaxing slightly as she busied herself setting out plates.
"Elena's lucky to have found you," she said quietly. "She's been carrying too much weight alone..."
Damon's hand stilled on the spatula as unexpected emotion gripped his chest. The protective instincts that had been simmering since he'd first met Elena flared into something fiercer and more primal.
"She won't be alone anymore," he said, his voice carrying a conviction that seemed to surprise even Maggie.
