Page 21 of Howl For A Kiss (Rebellious Mates #3)

NINETEEN

ELENA

E lena's hands pressed against the wound around the arrow protruding from Damon's abdomen, his powerful body already burning with fever beneath her palms. Blood seeped between her fingers despite her efforts to staunch the flow, and she could feel his life force ebbing through their growing mate bond like a tide pulling away from shore.

The rebel safehouse's healer—a middle-aged woman named Jenna with calloused hands and kind eyes—stood beside the makeshift table where they'd placed Damon. Her weathered face was grim as she assessed the damage.

Elena could sense Damon's pain like barbed wire dragging through her own flesh, but underneath it flowed something that made her throat tighten—his unwavering love and fierce protectiveness even as darkness pulled at him.

He'd taken that arrow meant for her heart, just like Tyler had thrown himself in front of that bullet.

She couldn't lose another person who loved her that much. She wouldn't survive it.

Not him. Anyone but him.

Patrick burst through the doorway carrying an armload of supplies—fresh clothes for Elena, hot towels, a thick blanket, a medical kit bristling with sterilizing equipment, and a bottle of clear alcohol that reeked of potency even from across the room.

"Elena, you need to warm up. Put on these clothes," Patrick said gently, extending a thermal shirt and cargo pants toward her.

She shook her head fiercely. "After. I'm not leaving his side until this arrow is out."

Jenna's hands moved with surgical precision as she gripped the arrow shaft. "On three. One... two..."

She pulled cleanly on two, the iron tip sliding free with a wet sound that made Elena's stomach lurch. Damon's back arched off the table, a low growl rumbling from his throat. Then his powerful frame went completely limp.

"He's out cold," Jenna announced. "Better for him. Now we stop the bleeding."

Elena's hands flew to assist as fresh blood welled from the wound.

Her survival training kicked into high gear, muscle memory guiding her movements even as her heart hammered in her chest. Together, she and Jenna worked with deadly efficiency—cleaning, sterilizing, and stitching with thread that would hold against a shifter's supernatural strength.

Patrick pressed cool cloths to Damon's burning forehead, trickling herbal remedies between his lips to combat the fever that had his skin flushed and slick with perspiration.

The sight of Damon—this dominant, powerful Beta who commanded respect through sheer presence—laid low and vulnerable made something primal twist in Elena's chest.

Mine to protect now. Just as he protected me.

"His fever's breaking," Patrick announced after what felt like hours but had probably been thirty minutes.

The wound was stitched and dressed, angry red but no longer bleeding. Elena finally accepted the clothes Patrick offered, pulling on the thermal shirt and cargo pants without taking her eyes off Damon's face. His breathing had steadied, and color was slowly returning to his angular features.

She settled into a chair beside the makeshift table and took his large hand in both of hers.

The calluses on his palm spoke of years wielding weapons and making impossible decisions.

Through their bond, she felt his wolf stirring, beginning the supernatural healing process that would knit muscle and bone back together.

Hours passed. Elena refused offers of food, water, and rest. She simply sat vigil, memorizing every line of Damon's face and listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

This man had upended her entire world in less than a week—first as her mysterious savior, then as her lying enemy, and finally as her fated mate who would die before letting harm touch her.

I can't lose him. I won't.

When Damon's green eyes finally fluttered open, focusing on her face with that familiar intensity, Elena's carefully constructed composure shattered completely. Tears she hadn't realized she'd been holding back for hours spilled down her cheeks in hot streams.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, his voice rough but warm. That soft smile she'd come to treasure curved his lips despite the lingering pain she could feel through their bond. "Why are you crying?"

His hand rose to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away her tears with infinite tenderness. The simple gesture undid her completely.

"Because I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, leaning into his touch like a flower turning toward sunlight. "That arrow was meant for me, and you?—"

"Would take a thousand arrows before letting one touch you," Damon finished firmly. His green eyes blazed with something fierce and possessive. "But I don't plan on going anywhere, Elena. Like I said, you are stuck with me now."

The tears came harder now, years of suppressed emotion pouring out. "I've never been this scared of losing someone, and I—" Her voice broke. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" His fingers traced her jawline.

"Shut people out because I'm terrified they'll leave or die." The words tumbled free, raw and honest. "I've spent my whole life building walls and pushing away anyone who might matter because I couldn't bear losing them. But you've already become everything to me, and I don't want to run anymore."

Damon's eyes softened, and she felt his satisfaction through their bond—not smugness, but the deep contentment of a man whose mate had finally chosen to trust completely.

"Good," he said, pulling himself into a sitting position with careful movements. "Because I have no intention of making this easy for you to walk away from."

She laughed despite her tears. "Very alpha male of you."

"You have no idea how alpha I can be." The heat in his voice made her stomach flutter.

Elena leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. "Your supernatural healing is kicking in, but I think we should stay here another day. Let you get your full strength back."

"You're that worried about me, huh?" The smugness was there now, along with that rare smile that made her feel like the only woman in existence.

"Yes, always," she said honestly. "And I'm done pretending otherwise."

Later that afternoon, Elena and Damon had moved into a small bedroom in Patrick's rebel safehouse after Elena had insisted it would be more comfortable for Damon.

He'd assured Elena for the past few hours that he was fine and getting stronger by the minute, but she wanted to do everything in her power to make sure he was completely comfortable and made a full recovery.

As the sun was setting outside the bedroom window, Elena perched on the edge of the narrow bed, spooning another bite of hearty stew toward Damon's mouth. He caught her wrist gently, his green eyes dancing with amusement despite the lingering pain she could feel through their mate bond.

"You know, no one has ever waited on me hand and foot like this," he said, that rare smile tugging at his lips. "I could get used to being pampered by my beautiful mate."

Heat flooded Elena's cheeks. "You're injured. It's practical."

"Is it?" His thumb traced lazy circles on her wrist. "Or are you just enjoying taking care of me?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her own smile. "Don't let it go to your head, Beta Gray."

The teasing warmth in his expression shifted to something deeper and more vulnerable.

"Elena, I need you to know—what you did today, saving my life, staying with me through everything.

.." His voice grew rough. "It means more than words can say.

I've spent fifteen years believing I didn't deserve that kind of devotion from anyone. "

The honesty in his voice made her chest tighten. Here was this powerful, dominant man letting her see the lonely boy underneath who'd been forced to grow up too fast.

"You deserve everything good in this world," she said softly, setting the bowl aside to cup his angular face. "And I'm not going anywhere either."

The partial mate mark on her neck pulsed with warmth as their bond hummed between them, a living thing that grew stronger each hour they spent together. She found herself anticipating the day he'd decide to complete the claiming—to make her fully his.

When he's ready, she reminded herself. When we've figured out the complications of his Beta position.

But her wolf disagreed, pressing restlessly against her consciousness with images of being completely claimed and completely his.

Patrick's knock interrupted her heated thoughts. The grizzled rebel leader stepped into the small bedroom, his weathered face grim.

"News arrived via encrypted radio," he announced without preamble. "My scouts intercepted a pack communication. Thought you might want to know."

Elena straightened, her protective instincts flaring as she felt Damon's immediate alertness through their bond. "What kind of news?"

"Young rebel recruits from the Tidewater pack were captured trying to join the rebellion," Patrick said, his voice heavy. "Alpha's labeled them traitors. He's ordered to have them be executed as a message—'join the rebellion and you'll die too.'"

White-hot rage blazed through Elena's veins.

The same Alpha whose abusive son had been forced on Fiona.

The same pack leadership that had held a gun to her sister's head while ordering Elena to walk away.

Her hands clenched into fists as memories of that terrible day crashed over her—Fiona's terrified eyes, the Beta's cold threats, and the impossible choice that still haunted her dreams.

"That bastard," she snarled. "How many recruits?"

Patrick's expression grew even grimmer. "Well, there's more bad news. Among the captured..." He paused, meeting her eyes. "Fiona Walsh. Your sister."

Elena's breath left her lungs in a sharp gasp. The world seemed to telescope down to that single name echoing in her mind. Fiona. Little Fiona with her dark hair and gentle spirit, who used to follow Elena around like a shadow despite their age gap.

"No." The word tore from her throat. "No, she was supposed to be safe. She was married to that monster's son, she should've been?—"

"Elena." Damon's hand found hers, grounding her as panic threatened to steal her rational thought. "Breathe."

But she couldn't breathe. Not when her baby sister—the one person Elena had failed to protect when it mattered most—was about to die because of Elena's choices. Because Elena had joined the rebellion. Because Elena had made enemies of the very people who now held Fiona captive.

"We need to go after her," Elena said, whirling to face Damon. Her voice carried the steel of absolute determination. "I'm not letting her die. I should've never walked away from her that day."

Damon pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the obvious discomfort the movement caused. "Agreed. But we really need to be smart about this."

"You're still recovering?—"

"I'm feeling well enough," he interrupted with that authoritative tone that brooked no argument. "But we need backup. Your rebel group of thirteen fighters. Plus, we need new weapons to replace what we lost."

Elena nodded, her tactical mind already spinning into motion despite the emotional turmoil threatening to overwhelm her. "We head back to Cade's compound, gather the team, and plan a rescue mission."

"I can drive you both to Cade's compound now," Patrick offered. "My truck's gassed up and ready."

"Ok, let's head out," Elena said, already moving toward the door. The mate mark on her neck throbbed as Damon's protective instincts spiked through their bond, but underneath it she felt his unwavering support.

He'll help me save her, she realized. Even injured, even knowing how dangerous this will be—he'll stand with me against an entire pack if necessary.

The knowledge should have concerned her. Instead, it filled her with a fierce determination that burned away the last of her fears about opening her heart completely to him.