Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (11 page)

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

But surety was not something she could find in an empty janitor’s closet. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” He spoke the word on a growl, but that wasn’t what brought on a shiver.

“What if you’re the liar?” She froze as the line went silent, as she waited for something from him. An answer of some sort. What she needed, she didn’t know. What she wanted, well…she wanted truth and confidence. Things she didn’t know how to get.

Finally, Mammon sighed. “You know I work for the president of the NALB?”

Charmeine frowned, not sure where that subject change came from. “Yes.”

“The man has a mate named Dante. Well, he has two now, but the third wasn’t in the picture a few years ago and so isn’t important to this story.”

“Okay.”

“The president has a staff, as you can imagine. Everything from cooks to people who clean the mansion to fifteen levels of guards. All vetted, all investigated and approved to work in direct contact with our leaders.”

None of that surprised Charmeine.

“One day while I was at Merriweather Fields, I happened to overhear a conversation between a couple of those guards. There was nothing overt about it—no threat or whispered plans for treasonous acts. A simple conversation, but something about it struck me as wrong, so I started a quiet investigation into them and their teams. An enemy of the president had gotten to them from the outside, paid them off to supply information on the mate’s schedule and guard staff. These so-called guards were selling out their employers, the men they’d taken a vow to protect, and that level of greed infuriated me.”

“What happened?” Charmeine held her breath, practically shaking with the need to know what came next.

Mammon stayed quiet for a long moment, but when he did answer, his voice was darker. Lower. Rough and dangerous. “I killed every guard involved.”

Oh God, that snarl should not be sexy considering the subject.
But it was. It
so
was. She swallowed hard. “Deservedly so, it seems.”

“Yes, deservedly so. But what I did next tends to be the act the rest of the staff remembers most.”

“What did you do?”

“See, the traitors had gotten access to critical information simply by being stationed outside the president’s private wing. They could hear conversations going on inside his suite through the main doors. I built a frame in the hallway to add another set of doors beyond the main ones, these thicker and more solid. Soundproofing the residence.”

“Why would that be something to talk about?”

“Because I didn’t just build a frame and a slab of wood for the doors. I carved images into them. I set up a little workstation right out front of the main entrance to the mansion, and I spent weeks carving woodland scenes and polishing the slabs until they were truly works of art, if I can be so bold as to call my own scratching art.”

Charmeine smiled at his humble words. She didn’t believe him, but she still smiled. “Modesty suits you, but I’m still not understanding—”

“I carved them with the claws and teeth of the traitors I killed on behalf of the president.”

Charmeine released a breath, surprising herself with the soft rushing sound. “That sounds…horrible.”

“No, baby. It wasn’t. It was a teaching moment for the rest of the staff. Those bastards had focused on the one they saw as the weakest link in an effort to overthrow the president. They used their job, their position of trust, for profit. I won’t tolerate deception from within.”

She clenched her hand into a fist and closed her eyes. He seemed like such a good man, an honest one. A loyal one. But still, she wasn’t sure…she didn’t know what she needed to
be
sure, but she didn’t have it. Not yet.

Mammon must have taken her silence for what it was because when he spoke again, his voice was softer. More cajoling. Enticing. “I would never manipulate you like that. I would never let anyone hurt you from within the walls you build around you. I swear it.”

Hot, angry tears fell faster than she could wipe them away. “I don’t know how to trust you.”

Mammon must have sighed, the sound creating static in her ear. “Keep talking, baby. That’s how we build trust. We just keep talking.”

Charmeine nodded, not yet ready to fully agree. To let him know she might be willing to try something new. But she slid to the floor, her back against a stone wall, and she did what he suggested.

“So… How was your day?”

Mammon hummed again. “Why don’t you tell me about yours instead?”

She sighed again, her body and mind sagging in exhaustion. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’ve got nothing but time, Char. Tell me all about it.”

She looked up at the ceiling, letting his voice blanket her in warmth, in comfort, in something that felt alarmingly like…hope.

Charmeine took a deep breath, leaned against the wall, and let go.

“A new mated pair arrived today, and they brought an orphaned little girl in with them. Her family was attacked and burned out of their home by the Hunters. She can’t be more than four, and she has this adorable stuffed wolf that she carries everywhere …”

T
he phone ringing
yanked Mammon from a sleep that had been filled with thoughts of his mate. He would have destroyed the infernal device, but the possibility that Charmeine could be on the other end kept him from throwing it across the room. Still, he wanted to. Badly.

Fuck, it was early.

“Hello?” His mumbled greeting sounded horrible, even to his own ears.

The voice from the other end was far smoother. “President Blasius Zenne requests your presence this morning.”

That woke him up. “Dante?”

“Who else would it be, Dire Mammon? Are you agreeable to meeting your president?”

“When and where?”

“Sycamore Strip. We land at ten. I recommend you be on time.”

The call disconnected, leaving Mammon holding the silent phone in his hand for a long, painful minute. When the screen went dark, he pressed the button again. The date stared him in the face, a taunting presence he’d almost been able to disregard. Luc had given him two weeks, and that deadline had passed without his noticing. He was so utterly screwed. Pursuing the O’Rourke pack had gone completely against orders, but that hadn’t stopped him. And though he had the fact that his mate was associated with that pack, he doubted Blasius would let him off the hook. There were rules and regulations, procedures, and a chain of command. Mammon had said fuck you to all of them.

And he’d do it again…for Charmeine.

Mammon shot a quick text to Deus to let the shifter know why he’d be on the move so early—because the nosy fucker would totally notice such a thing—then jumped out of bed. He needed a shower, a quick jack-off to lose the hard-on dreaming of his mate had left him with, and coffee…not necessarily in that order.

Twenty minutes, one shower wank, and two cups of coffee later, Mammon rolled out of the parking lot, revved the engine of his motorcycle for a little extra fuck you to the world, and roared toward the highway. Time was on his side, and traffic was light. He could make it to the airstrip before the presidential plane touched down. His motorcycle was definitely up to the challenge, speeding past the few cars on the road with ease. The throaty rumble comforted him, soothing his frazzled nerves a bit. Blasius wouldn’t kill him; he wouldn’t kick him out of the Dire Wolves, either. They were a pack, a family based on more than orders and rank. Blasius had no control over that and little control over them, to be honest. Luc set the rules, and currently his rule was they worked for the NALB president on missions as assigned. They hadn’t always, though…and wouldn’t forever.

But what Blasius
could
do was tell Mammon he couldn’t be involved in NALB missions, which would put stress on his pack. They usually worked alone or in teams of two to three, but sometimes, jobs were too big and risks were too high for a small team. On those jobs, they all showed up. With only seven of them, each Dire had to pull his weight in a group mission. And they’d always been a team of seven. With only six, training would need to be reworked, and the guys would be in danger until they figured out the new dynamic. A thought that had Mammon growling into the wind.

Halfway to the airport, though, Mammon spotted a tail. A big SUV followed him—a Suburban—the tinted windows not giving away the driver. Soon after, the Suburban was joined by a Jeep. Still dark. Totally dangerous. Both more calming than not.

He knew those vehicles.

When a third vehicle he recognized joined the other two, Mammon laughed. His pack wasn’t going to let him down or send him to fight alone. He hadn’t asked for backup, hadn’t requested a show of solidarity, but Deus must have called one in. His brothers, his team, his pack…they wouldn’t leave a man to fight alone, no matter how badly he’d screwed up.

Mammon pulled up outside the hangar five minutes early for his meeting and parked his bike to the side. His brothers followed suit, lining up their cars at an angle to make a quick escape easier. Old habits died hard. The three Dires converged with Mammon in front of the hangar door. Phego, Thaus, and Bez, looking ready for a battle Mammon was hoping he wouldn’t have to fight.

“You didn’t need to come,” Mammon said, eyeing each man individually.

Bez grunted. “No Dire fights alone if he doesn’t have to.”

Mammon nodded, knowing he was right. “Think he’s here to say hi?”

“I think he’s here to kick your ass for your O’Rourke obsession.”

Phego scowled. “We should have notified the NALB earlier.”

Thaus, looking tired and weaker than Mammon would have liked, let out a deep breath. “Without a solid plan, he would have forced Mammon and his mate to separate until the threat passed. She’s an Omega, which makes her the priority to Blasius.”

Even the thought made a fiery rage blanket Mammon. No. Not happening. His mate was staying where he could help protect her, period. But before Mammon could respond, a small plane taxied over from one of the runways. The four men formed a triangle of sorts—Mammon at the front, the rest backing him up. Ready and waiting to greet their President.

They didn’t have to wait long. A guard unknown to Mammon opened the door of the plane and lowered the stairs to the ground. Dante and Blasius stepped out, both men pausing and frowning when they saw who all was waiting for them.

Surprise.

“I seem to remember a scene very much like this not too long ago, Beelzebub,” Blasius said as he stepped onto the tarmac.

“And you’ll see it again and again, President Blasius. We’re pack, and we stand together.”

Blasius looked over each man in turn, seemingly sizing them up. “Not all your men stand together, it seems.”

Bez growled, low and long. A challenge of sorts toward the most powerful shifter on the continent. Mammon wasn’t sure if he was suicidal or just stupid, but the growling indicated one of the two for sure.

Phego jumped in, perhaps trying to cover the growl of the other Dire. “Luc is running a mission out of Alaska. Levi and Deus are up east setting up security for Levi’s new mate. I assume you remember how territorial and defensive a newly mated wolf is, sir, and that you can understand the need for Deus to stay by Levi’s side until the younger Dire settles into his new role.”

President Blasius frowned. “Yes. Of course.”

Mammon almost relaxed, almost took a deep breath, but then Blasius turned his glare on him, and his wolf rushed forth, ready to defend them. Ready to fight anyone who tried to get between him and his mate.

“You disobeyed a direct order.”

Mammon could only nod. “I did, sir.”

“I told you to leave the O’Rourke pack alone.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Then explain yourself, soldier.”

Something about his tone, about the demand from a wolf who technically wasn’t his Alpha, set Mammon’s teeth on edge and made his wolf push forward even more. If his eyes weren’t already silver with the coming beast, they soon would be. It was that anger, the pride of the Dire in him, that pushed Mammon past the point of fear or anxiousness and over to the other side. The darker side. The angry one.

“Did you know the Apex Hunters are still around?” Mammon asked, a definite rumble under his words.

Blasius cocked his head, looking curious. “That was a long time ago, Dire Mammon, but I remember ordering their decimation.”

“Not decimated, sir. There’re a handful still out there. They’ve rebanded, and they’re killing shifter families again. They’re after the pack I monitor.”

Dante stepped forward on that one. “Proof?”

“Just the word of the O’Rourkes.”
And Charmeine Byrne,
he finished in his thoughts, though he didn’t say the words.

Dante scoffed. “No confirmation. And that rumor definitely isn’t a good enough reason for you to break rank the way you did.”

Mammon growled again, his hands curling into fists. If he could just get his point across. “Sir, if you’d listen to the—”

But Blasius had apparently had enough. “I want you back in Chicago today for a disciplinary hearing.”

The world went silent except for the howling of Mammon’s wolf in his head. Long, soulful howls of pain and anger. His mate was in danger, and he was being taken from her side. No fucking way. He couldn’t leave Charmeine unprotected. Wouldn’t. Ever.

Mammon said the one thing he possibly could in that moment.

“No.”

The word was a bitter bite, a sign of disobeying he wasn’t necessarily proud of, but there was no other way. His mate had become more important than the man the Dires
allowed
to lead them. Her safety and comfort were his primary concern, and she would not be safe without Mammon close by. She needed him, and he needed her. Story done.

Blasius dropped the shock off his face and snarled, taking two threatening steps forward. “Pardon me?”

But Mammon wasn’t backing down. Not completely. Not on this. “With all due respect, sir, I said no.”

“Do you want to explain to me—”

“Finn O’Rourke was raised with a little girl whose family was killed by the Apex Hunters. Omega shewolf Charmeine Byrne, heir to the Byrne fortune. She’s staying with Finn now as they build a safe place for the refugees left behind by these sick bastards. She is vital to their safety.” Mammon took a deep breath, letting his growl rumble through him loud and clear. Making his point known. “And she’s my mate. Charmeine Byrne is mine, and I won’t leave her unprotected.”

Blasius and Dante stood silent and staring, probably a bit shocked. Mammon could understand that. After centuries of no mates, three Dires had managed to locate the women the fates deemed as their perfect matches within the last twelve months.

But Blasius’ shock didn’t negate the fact Mammon had a mate to protect. A woman with an important job protecting others. He would stay by her side until the threat was completely eliminated, until every Apex Hunter was tracked down and slaughtered for their role in trying to destroy the shifter community. Mammon wouldn’t leave Charmeine’s side… Whether she wanted him there or not.

And he needed to make
that
point clear.

Mammon lifted his chin, looking his president directly in the eye. “I won’t leave her.”

Blasius stared past the Dires, his eyes seeking something that wasn’t there. “The Dire Wolves have walked the earth longer than any known creature. I’m not even sure there are vampires as old as you seven. In all that time, not a one found their mate. And yet, we’ve had three in a year. All to Omega females.”

Bez growled softly behind Mammon, probably feeling some sort of protectiveness toward Sariel. He was the first Dire to be gifted a mate by the fates. The Dire had struggled with finding the balance between mission and mate at that time, but he’d come out okay. He’d managed to save the women he was after and complete the mission. Technically, Mammon didn’t have a sanctioned mission to end the Apex Hunters, but he didn’t care. It was his turn, and he would not let his mate down. Fuck procedure.

Growls grew louder, rumbling closer to snarls. The Dires all stood on edge, ready to fight, ready to defend what they saw as an attack on one of their own. Mammon could feel it in the air, sense it. No one threatened a Dire Wolf, and the mates were Dires in their eyes.

“Stand down, Beelzebub,” Dante called, keeping his voice low but firm. Ordering. Phego and Thaus responded with their own growls of warning, adding to the tension of the moment. This crew was a powder keg ready to blow, but Mammon didn’t have time for that.

“Sir,” Mammon called, taking another step forward. “I fucked up by breaking rank and disobeying orders. I’ll come to Chicago for a hearing on that once I know my mate is safe. But right now, I’m not leaving her. The Hunters are out there, and they’re hunting the only Byrne left—my Charmeine. She rescues others in her place, creates a safe place for them, and joins them together into a pack. That’s part of her Omega power, I believe—bringing the unlikely survivors together to form a unit. I need to be here to help protect them all. There are children, sir. I won’t leave them to be slaughtered in their sleep.”

Blasius refocused on the Dires, his head cocked, the anger gone. “We need more proof of the Apex Hunters before we accept that they’re back.”

“Then we’ll get it,” Bez said with a snarl.

Mammon nodded. “We will. This group, they pay off the people close to their victims, manipulate extended family, and seek to destroy their victims from the inside. They target the weakest links, like the children. They are the epitome of evil, and it’s time to take them down. Dire style.”

Dante very nearly smirked. “And what exactly is Dire style?”

This time, Thaus answered. “Completely wipe them out. To do the job right the first time and not leave it for someone else to clean up later.”

“Exactly.” Mammon nodded, trying not to amplify the shot Thaus just fired at their bosses. The ones who’d ordered the destruction of the Apex Hunters’ pack…and failed to see it through. “The O’Rourkes can’t take them out alone, and the refugees aren’t soldiers or fighters in any respect. They need all of us.”

“And as always, the Dire Wolves are standing behind one of their own,” Bez said. “Mammon and Charmeine are mated, which makes her pack. We
will
protect our pack at all costs.”

Blasius sighed, looking to Dante as if for reason. His dark-skinned mate simply stared back. Silent. Giving the president the responsibility of the decision.

“Fine,” Blasius said, biting out his word before heading for the plane. “Call in anyone you need to help keep the Omega safe, and get me proof of the Hunters. But whether you find it or not, we will deal with this insubordination, Dire Mammon.”

“Understood.” Mammon nodded and took a few steps back. Joining his brothers shoulder to shoulder instead of in an attack formation. As soon as Dante and Blasius were back on board their small private plane, the Dires huddled closer. Went to work.

Phego started, looking from one man to the next. “How do we destroy the Hunters?”

“Same thing we always do,” Bez said. “Research, plan, track, and destroy.”

Mammon could only grin. “Ooh Rah.”