Page 4 of Howl For A Kiss (Rebellious Mates #3)

THREE

ELENA

S now crunched beneath Elena's combat boots as she and Damon ran deeper into the forest, her tactical vest bouncing against her thermal black top with each hurried step.

The shoulder harness containing her guns pressed against her ribs, a familiar weight that usually brought comfort but now felt inadequate against the chaos they'd left behind.

Her blonde hair whipped around her face as branches caught at the strands, but she ignored the minor irritation.

Every nerve ending screamed with hypervigilance, cataloging potential threats in the winter landscape around them.

The snap of a twig. The crunch of disturbed snow.

The distant echo of voices that might belong to their pursuers.

Yet despite the tactical focus consuming her conscious mind, something primal stirred deeper within her chest. Her gaze kept drifting sideways to the man running beside her—this Damon Gray who moved with predatory grace through the forest terrain.

His thermal black henley stretched across his broad chest, while his tactical jacket hung open to reveal the hip holster containing his knife.

Dark jeans hugged his powerful thighs that ate up ground with effortless strides.

When their hands had touched during their handshake back at the rebel warehouse, a strange electricity had jolted up her arm. The sensation lingered even now, a warm buzzing beneath her skin that made no logical sense.

The caverns materialized ahead through the pine trees like salvation carved from stone. Elena had discovered them during her early days establishing the rebel base—natural formations that provided perfect shelter from both the elements and her enemies.

"Here," she panted, ducking beneath the rocky overhang into the cavern's mouth.

Damon followed, his imposing frame filling the entrance as he scanned their surroundings with professional assessment. Snow dusted his dark brown hair, highlighting the auburn streaks that caught what little light filtered through the cavern opening.

"We'll wait here until the coast clears," Elena said, holstering her sidearm as her breathing gradually returned to normal. "Then I need to get back and check on my base."

Damon's green eyes sharpened with something that looked suspiciously like disagreement. "Elena, if the location is compromised?—"

"I'm not abandoning my base," she interrupted, fury rising in her chest like molten steel. "Those are my people back there. My responsibility."

"Your responsibility is staying alive to lead them," Damon replied, his deep voice carrying authority. "Dead leaders serve no one."

The casual dismissal of her judgment ignited something volatile within Elena. How dare this stranger—this man who'd known her for all of thirty minutes—presume to tell her how to protect her own people.

"You don't understand," she snapped, her hands clenching into fists as rage built like pressure behind a dam. "I built that operation from nothing. Those rebels trust me to?—"

Suddenly, pain lanced through her body like white-hot lightning, cutting off her words mid-sentence.

Something clawed at her from the inside, desperate to break free with an urgency that bordered on violence.

Her bones felt like they were stretching, reshaping themselves into configurations that defied human anatomy.

"What's happening to me?" she gasped, staring in horror at her hands.

Sharp canine teeth erupted from her gums with audible pops, while her fingernails elongated into curved claws that could tear through flesh like tissue paper. White fur sprouted along her forearms in patches, soft and pristine.

Panic flooded her system as she fought against the transformation, every instinct screaming that this was worrisome and terrifying. The pain intensified as her body warred between human and something else entirely.

"No, no, no," she panted, trying to force her claws back to normal fingernails through sheer willpower. "This isn't—I can't?—"

"Elena." Damon's voice cut through her panic like a blade through silk, calm and commanding. "Look at me."

His eyes held hers with magnetic intensity as he moved closer, his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture that somehow conveyed absolute control.

"Breathe," he instructed, his gentle tone making something inside her respond instinctively. "Deep, slow breaths. Don't fight it—let it flow through you."

"I don't know how," she whispered, tears streaming down her face as white fur continued sprouting along her arms in beautiful, terrifying patches.

"You're shifting," Damon said simply, his analytical gaze taking in her partial transformation. "But you're only partially manifesting, which is... unusual."

He frowned, clearly puzzled by something about her condition that she couldn't comprehend through the haze of pain and panic.

"Focus on my voice," he continued, stepping closer until his imposing presence filled her entire field of vision. "Feel the change, don't resist it. Your body knows what to do."

Elena tried to follow his guidance, letting the sensations wash over her instead of fighting them. Gradually, the claws retracted into normal fingernails, the canine teeth receded into human proportions, and the white fur disappeared beneath her skin like snow melting in spring sunshine.

She collapsed against the cavern wall, shaken and troubled by what had just occurred.

"My wolf," Elena whispered, staring at her now-human hands with wonder and fear. "It's finally manifesting. The rare medical condition my father told me I have—he said I'd shift between ages twenty-five and twenty-eight."

Damon's expression darkened with something that looked like concern mixed with skepticism. His green eyes sharpened as he studied her with the intensity of a predator analyzing prey.

"Elena, what exactly did your father tell you?"

"That I'd manifest later than normal shifters due to some rare genetic anomaly," she replied, her mind racing as she tried to process what had just happened.

The electricity that had sparked between them at her base still hummed around them, a constant distraction she couldn't shake.

"I'm twenty-eight now. It must have been triggered by the stress of recent events. "

Damon frowned, his analytical gaze never leaving her face. "I'm just confused by all of this. Lena briefed me this morning that you were a full wolf shifter."

"I am a full wolf shifter," Elena insisted, rising to her feet with fluid grace.

Her tactical vest pulled taut across her breasts as she straightened, and she noticed how Damon's eyes tracked the movement before snapping back to her face.

"When I was in puberty and wasn't shifting like my friends, I asked my father why.

That's when he told me I had this rare genetic disorder. "

She crossed her arms, inadvertently emphasizing the curves of her body beneath the black thermal top. "My father discovered my condition from local healers when I was a young child and really sick with fevers. That's when they told him I'd shift later than normal."

Damon's imposing frame blocked most of the cavern entrance as he stepped closer, his presence filling the space with masculine energy that made Elena's pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with fear.

"Elena," he said, his deep voice carrying absolute authority, "no such condition exists."

His words hit her with physical force. "Excuse me?"

"Late manifestation only occurs if one parent is human," he continued relentlessly, his green eyes boring into hers with devastating intensity. "Which would make you a hybrid."

Elena's world tilted on its axis. "That's impossible. My father wouldn't lie to me about something that fundamental."

Damon moved closer still, close enough that she could smell his masculine scent—pine, leather, and something uniquely him that made her wolf stir restlessly beneath her skin.

"My grandmother was a healer. She taught me everything she knew about full wolf shifters, healing, and genetics.

Nothing in that knowledge suggests any rare genetic disorders in full shifters. "

"You're wrong," Elena snapped, primal fury rising in her chest. How dare this man who didn't know her think he could tell her about her own biology? "My father is a full shifter from the Tidewater pack. My mother was also a full shifter. She died giving birth to me."

"Your manifestation timeline suggests otherwise," Damon replied with infuriating calm, his analytical mind dissecting her protests with surgical precision. "Hybrids typically manifest between twenty-five and twenty-eight. Full shifters manifest during puberty without exception."

Elena's hands clenched tight into fists as her rage grew. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know more about shifter genetics than most," he countered, stepping even closer until she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

His impressive height and broad shoulders created an almost overwhelming masculine presence that should have intimidated her.

Instead, it sent heat racing through her veins in a way that both thrilled and infuriated her.

"My grandmother documented every known shifter condition for sixty years," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky rumble that made something deep in her clench with unexpected arousal. "There are no late-manifesting full shifters, Elena. Only hybrids."

"Stop," she hissed, as anger and something far more dangerous warred within her. "You don't get to waltz into my life and tear apart everything I've believed about myself."

"Sometimes the truth hurts," Damon replied, his green eyes flashing with something that looked suspiciously like protective concern. "But denying it won't change what you are."

Elena stepped forward until they stood toe to toe, her light blue eyes blazing with defiant fire.

The gold rings around her pupils seemed to glow with inner light as she tilted her chin up in challenge.

"What I am is a full wolf shifter with a rare condition.

What you are is an arrogant stranger who thinks he knows better than my own father. "

The air between them crackled with electric tension, primal chemistry sparking between their bodies. Damon's masculine scent wrapped around her like an invisible embrace, making her wolf whine with confused longing.

"Your father lied to you," Damon said bluntly, his deep voice cutting through her defenses like a blade. "The question is why."

Elena's breath caught as raw hurt lanced through her chest. Why did this man's words affect her so deeply? Why did his proximity make her feel like she was standing too close to an open flame—dangerous, intoxicating, and impossible to resist?

"You're wrong," she repeated, but her voice lacked its earlier conviction.

Damon's expression softened slightly. "Elena?—"

"No," she interrupted, stepping back only to find herself pressed against the cavern wall. "I won't let you poison my relationship with my father based on your grandmother's dusty old healing books."