Damon POV
Her scent—fierce, wild, and seething—rushed into the room like a storm. And with it… her wolf.
The witches froze.
Too late.
Because Elena had already shifted. Not fully, but enough. Her hands were claws. Her eyes glowing gold with fury. Fangs bared.
And then—
A blur.
She lunged.
The witch kneeling before me shrieked as she was kicked in the chest, flying backward into the wall, naked and stunned. Another witch tried to grab her cloak, but Elena backhanded her mid-move, sending her sprawling across the floor.
The third shrieked, scrambling to escape as Elena advanced, half-shifted and fully furious.
"OUT!" she snarled.
The witches fled—half-dressed, terrified, crawling and scrambling like rats from a fire.
I stood there.
Still panting.
Half-hard.
The witches had scattered like vermin.
Half-dressed. Claw-marked. Terrified.
I stood there, panting like an animal.
Still painfully hard.
Still burning.
