Page 29 of The Chief (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #3)

ELISE WATCHED Cade return from the hunt, empty-handed, every line of his body vibrating with fury and frustration.

Every line of him screamed tension, shoulders set like stone, his entire frame wired with barely checked aggression.

The compound was locked down, guards doubled, sensors recalibrated, and she knew he’d walked the perimeter more than once.

But he didn’t stop moving. He paced the room like a wolf hunting a phantom, his eyes catching every shadow, his instincts razor-edged.

She saw how each creak in the floor made him tighten, how the wind stirred his hackles. Marcello might be a ghost, but Cade was still in full battle mode. And every part of him screamed that something wasn’t finished. Not yet.

Elise sat curled on the bed, silent, wrapped in the throw blanket he’d tucked around her before leaving.

She watched him move with the restless determination of a man trained to expect ambush.

Each step taut, each glance sharp. He wasn’t following orders.

He was chasing phantoms through muscle memory.

He finally stopped in front of her. His eyes dark, unreadable, but flickering with heat. “He’s still here. I can feel it.”

But his gaze lingered on her longer than it should have, tracking the delicate line of her throat, the parting of her lips as she breathed in. Her skin vibrated under the heavy gaze of his attention, his restraint winding tight. A silent storm barely held in check.

He wasn’t just looking at her to assess her safety. He was looking at her like he needed the reassurance of her flesh, the curve of her, the quiet burn in her eyes to hold him together.

And maybe, just maybe, to remind himself that she was alive. And his.

“You looked everywhere,” she said softly, her voice steady despite her mind spinning. He looked like a storm straining at its cage, jagged tension radiating from every inch of him.

But more than the fury, more than the shattered silence, was the heat. The way he stared at her, as if confirming she was still real. Still breathing. Still his. And the way her body responded to it, alive with pulse and memory and wanting.

Elise was tired of being broken porcelain. Tired of caution. His presence filled her with flames and iron.

She didn’t flinch from the dominance rolling off him.

She leaned into it, drawn by something just as primal, heat curling in her belly, the scent of him thick in the air, masculine and heady.

Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, to bury herself in the intensity that radiated from his body like a promise.

“I haven’t looked enough.” He made a sound of disgust. “It’s never enough when you’re in the line of fire.”

She reached for his hand and his fingers laced tightly through hers. For a moment. Then he crossed the room again.

He didn’t speak as he stripped off his jacket and weapons, just tossed them onto a chair with more force than necessary.

Then, in one unbroken motion, he peeled off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and shoved his pants down with a growl of frustration.

Naked, he stood there for a beat, commanding, furious, breathtaking.

Elise struggled to draw air into her lungs.

Not because she was startled. Not because she was afraid.

But because the sight of Cade, uncompromising, unguarded, and utterly unashamed—hit her like a jolt of recognition—deep, visceral, almost electric.

It was the sight of him not just as protector, but as man, unapologetic and dominant, that seared through the last of her restraint.

Undeniable presence, stripped of pretense. He stood like a man carved from purpose, still bristling with the need to act. His movements were sharp, without a single ounce of hesitation, just the lethal grace of someone ready to destroy anything that threatened what was his.

Her pulse skittered, her mouth went dry. The ache in her side dulled beneath the surge of something hotter, sharper.

She’d seen him bare before, had his strength wrapped around her in the dark. But not like this. Not in this light. Not with the fury and possession in his eyes. And God help her, she wanted all of it.

Wanted him. All of him.

And she wasn’t the least bit sorry for it.

The fire in him hadn’t dimmed. It rolled off his skin in waves. His chest rose and fell like a man still locked in battle, muscles taut, caught between rage and control. Every inch of him was built to protect, to dominate, to claim. And she experienced it down to her bones.

He didn’t glance at her for approval or invitation.

He didn’t need to. It pulled like gravity, like heat.

Her breath caught, her body already responding to the certainty in his stride.

And God help her, she welcomed it. He just walked to the bed like he already belonged there, like he belonged with her, inside her, above her, around her.

But when he slipped beneath the covers, it wasn’t with heat.

It was with restraint. He surrounded her body with his, searing and silent, his breath at her neck. Always cautious of her wound.

The silence that followed was worse than any blood-soaked fight, sharp-edged and explosive, the kind that came right before something shattered.

He gathered her close. “I won’t let him get you. I will find him. And when I do...”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t have to. His words vibrated in the space between them like a trigger pulled halfway. There was no doubt in his voice, just pure, bone-deep certainty.

Cade Dante didn’t make promises he wouldn’t keep. And he didn’t leave threats unanswered. “I swear, Elise, I won’t fail you again.”

“You didn’t fail me the first time,” she said quietly. “I’m here. You got me through it. You’re still getting me through it.”

His arm tightened around hers. “You deserve better than having to survive like this.”

The words landed hard. His guilt came like a current running through his arms, tight where they held her.

He pulled her close against him, and she let him, though part of her wanted to shake him, make him see what she already knew.

She wasn’t fragile. Not anymore. She wasn’t surviving because he held her together.

She was surviving because she had chosen to.

But still, his arms around her quieted the storm inside her, held the chaos at bay like a seawall against the tide.

Her head tucked under his chin, her body enveloped in his heat.

She fit against him as if they’d always been meant to.

The scar along her side had dulled to a faint ache, her breathing deep and unbroken.

Yet Cade held her like the war was still being fought. And maybe, in his mind, it was.

He buried his face in her hair, lips brushing the curve of her neck in a way that sent a ripple of awareness straight through her. “I should’ve killed him already. I should’ve smelled this coming.”

She rolled onto her back and curved into him, her bare thigh brushing the iron heat of his.

Her breath hitched at the contact, skin against skin, heat against hunger.

“You’re not omniscient, Cade,” she murmured, aware of the way his scent filled her senses, salt, cedar, and something darker she could never name but always craved.

“I don’t expect to be omniscient. I just need to keep you safe. And I’m failing.”

She pulled back slightly. Just enough to look at him.

His face was too close, every muscle drawn tight with heat and frustration.

His eyes flicked to her lips, lingered on the pulse at her throat, then dipped to the soft hollow between her collarbones.

Her skin tingled under his gaze, nerves lighting up like sparks catching dry leaves.

She saw it, want layered beneath the fury, possession wound into every breath.

Her own answering pull hit deep in her belly, unmistakable and molten.

“You’re not failing. You’re furious and protective and on edge, and I love that about you. But I’m not going to shatter just because you look at me like I might.”

His voice dropped, hoarse. “I look at you like that because I can’t stop imagining losing you. And every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding.”

She touched his jaw, her fingertips brushing the stubble there, heat simmering beneath his skin.

The tension in his muscles spoke of battles not yet fought, but it was the nearness that sent a flush blooming across her chest. Her hand lingered, just a second too long, as if the simple contact tethered her to something more primal.

The electricity wasn’t just beneath the surface. It was between them.

“Then stop closing your eyes,” she whispered. “And look at me, alive and well.”

He kissed her temple. Then lower, just under her ear, where her pulse fluttered.

“You’re alive. And you’re mine,” he murmured against her skin, voice a growl that sent a shiver straight through her.

His mouth lingered there, soft at first, then firmer, heat building in the space between kisses.

He dragged his lips along the curve of her face, tasting her skin, breathing her in like he needed her more than air.

Elise’s breath caught, her fingers threading into his hair, helpless to the flood of sensation.

Still he didn’t take her. But every rigid line in his body, every rough exhale, told her it cost him everything to hold back.

He buried his face against her neck. “If I lose you, I lose myself. So for now… this is enough. But not for long.”

“Stay here with me,” she murmured, voice husky with emotion. “Don’t shut me out tonight.”

His hand drifted from her belly to her hip, resting there, firm and possessive. He remained folded tightly around her like a wall. Like a vow. Like a man who’d decided that restraint, for now, was the deepest form of devotion.

The heat of his gaze stroked her in the dark, the simmering restraint in his body still palpable as he watched her breathe.