Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (14 page)

“No, I know. I just…” She paused, unsure. But her heart beat steadily, and her stomach wasn’t clenched in fear or dread. At some point, she’d have to take this step. Leap off this cliff. Somewhere along the way, she’d need to bring him into her life fully and see how he fit against the world she’d created for herself. She was afraid, sure—distrusting and wary—but deep down, she wanted him with her. Wanted him to see how she spent her time. Wanted him to see her life’s work in person.

Throwing caution to the wind for the first time since she could remember, she brought her hand to the side of his face and smiled. “Would you like to have a tour of the temporary living quarters? I was going to spend the day there tomorrow and thought—”

“Yes.” He pulled her down for another deep kiss, holding her tight to his chest and making her moan. The kiss swirled again, lifting and growing, bites and snarls and growls replacing any sort of sweetness they’d started with.

But eventually, Mammon pulled away, breathing hard, looking up at her with lust-blown eyes. “You’d better go before I slide back inside you and make you scream.”

He made his point by rocking his hips, allowing the tip of his cock to nudge inside. Just the tip. The tease. Charmeine gave as good as she got, though, rocking back against that thickness, teasing him as much as he teased her. The two pressing and retreating in a rhythm that could have brought them so much more if they’d just moved a little closer. Pushed a little harder. Let the teasing become more.

When Mammon worked a hand between them to press his thumb against her clit, sending tingles straight up her spine, Charmeine knew it was time.

She arched and sat back, pushing off his shoulders to rise to a sitting position, taking him in deep as she settled on his hips once more.

“Well, maybe I do have a few minutes.”

That cocky grin on his face couldn’t hide the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure. “We shouldn’t waste them.”

A
ny update on the Hunters
?

Mammon sent the text to Phego and sat back against the seat, watching the world go by outside the windows. Or as much as he could with his mate sitting by his side. It was a chore to tear his eyes away from her, especially knowing how soft all that skin was. How lush those curves were. It’d been two days since Charmeine had shown up at his apartment. Forty-eight hours of texts and phone calls, but no time to see each other until he hopped in the car with her. No time with just the two of them, preferably naked and alone. Hell, even in the car, they weren’t alone.

His phone vibrated with a text alert.

Nothing. Deus says they’ve gone silent, which could mean either they’re backing off or getting ready to strike.

“Helpful, jackass.”

“What’s that?” Charmeine peered up at him, those blue eyes practically piercing his heart. Mammon just shook his head and smiled until she turned back to the other person in the car. The one making Mammon’s blood pressure rise. He typed out a response to his Dire brother to ignore the pounding in his head.

Keep hunting. I’ve got a feeling these fuckers are going for option two.

Roger that. Need extra protection?

Mammon shot a glance at Charmeine. Her hair was loose today, falling over one shoulder in a golden wave, accentuating the curve of her breast. My God, she was beautiful. And his. And she might hate him for what he was about to do, but he
would
keep her safe. No matter what.

Set it up. I’ll stay with Char until we get back to the O’Rourke place. We can rendezvous there.

On it.

“Sorry, Charmeine. I missed that over all the tapping and vibrating. Can you repeat the question?” Charmeine’s assistant, a little shifter by the name of Ethan, shot him a look that was somewhere between irritated and needing to take a shit. That could just have been Mammon’s opinion, though.

Blood pressure…rising.

“How many properties are on the list for the permanent facility?” Charmeine asked her assistant, ignoring or flat-out not noticing the tension in the back of the car. Mammon squeezed her hand, loving that she was allowing that small bit of affection in a somewhat public forum. Well, not so much public. It was only the three of them. Mammon, Charmeine, and fucking Ethan…who kept shooting him nasty looks.

“Four. There were five, but one sold out from under us. We could have made a bid for it the day before yesterday, but…”

Ethan trailed off, his implications clear. Mammon gripped Charmeine’s hand tighter, wishing he could dress down the bratty assistant for upsetting his mate. Because she was upset. Charmeine looked as if she felt guilty, as if she hadn’t deserved a night off from all her work to enjoy time with her new mate. Mammon hated that.

He hated Ethan.

There was something about the shifter that set off his wolf’s need to protect and challenge, made him wary. Something that made him cranky. Not jealous in any way…but not trusting.

“Yes, well.” Charmeine cleared her throat and tried to pull her hand from his. Tried to pull away from her mate because of some little shit with a Napoleon complex. That was Mammon’s last straw.

“She took an afternoon off. Quit crucifying her for it.” His voice was more growl than not, but Mammon didn’t care. His mate was upset because of the little fucker. Ethan deserved every bit of anger he received.

The smaller shifter turned away, unable to meet Mammon’s eyes. Good. Hopefully, the jackass would mind his manners next time. Mammon didn’t care if the guy was super helpful to Charmeine…he wouldn’t pause to put his fist in Ethan’s face should the need occur.

Meanwhile, Charmeine—his sweet, kind, secretly naughty mate—smiled subtly and leaned into his shoulder. Relaxing. Craving his affection.

Mammon considered that a job well done.

The band on his wrist vibrated, and Mammon took a moment to double tap it. The guys were monitoring his location exactly as he’d requested. Again, he may have trusted Charmeine, but he certainly didn’t trust the situation. Neither did his pack.

“What is that?” Charmeine asked, fingering the thick band.

“Activity tracker.” The lie came without thought, and he hated himself for it. But something about being in the car with Ethan put his guard up. He would have happily told Charmeine exactly what the device on his wrist did—would have preferred if she had one on as well—but not around that other shifter. Mammon just didn’t like him.

Charmeine smiled and ran those wicked fingers up his arm. “Trying to get into shape?”

“Trying?” Teasing was a new thing he loved from her, something he didn’t see nearly enough in person. She was good over text, though, and they’d found a nice balance of sweetness and sour to keep their long conversations in that space lively. But in person? That wicked flirting and open smile? Totally new ball game.

Mammon grabbed her wandering hand and placed it on his leg, holding it down as he flexed his thigh. Then he leaned into her side and gave her a good growl. “Are you saying I’m not in shape?”

Charmeine bit her lip and gripped his leg, rubbing in a way that sent shock waves through his cock. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

Mammon nuzzled her neck and whispered, “Good.”

But of course, Ethan had to interrupt them. “We still need to address the rest of the accounting and ordering of supplies for the next two weeks. I assume you’ll be available for that, or should I contact Finn directly?”

Charmeine jerked away, shooting a glare at her assistant. “No, Ethan. I’m available. We can handle that later this morning.”

Ethan glanced Mammon’s way, almost looking as if he wanted a challenge. “But your guest—”

And
that
was more than enough. “I’m not her guest, and I’m not her keeper. If Charmeine has work to do, I’m sure she’ll handle that. I’m her fucking mate and a grown-ass man. I can entertain myself as she takes care of business.”

Ethan’s face turned red, but he closed his damn mouth. Finally. And Charmeine, well, if Mammon knew her a little better, he’d say she was biting back a laugh.

Job really well done.

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop in what looked like an office complex. Long, sprawling, single-story buildings of dark brown brick sat along the parking lot. Completely bland and run-of-the-mill. Nothing to stand out, to catch attention, or even to notice as you passed by. The perfect sort of place for hiding people, in Mammon’s opinion.

“We’re here.” Charmeine’s smile lit up the interior of the car. Mammon could only stare, pieces of his mate falling into place in his mind. She loved what she did. Not just cared about her job or enjoyed helping people. She
loved
this. And he loved that grin.

Before she could step out of the car, Mammon grabbed her chin and pressed his lips to hers in a closed-mouth kiss that did nothing to quell his desire for her.

“I like this smile,” he whispered when he was through. “I’d love to see more of it.”

That smile grew, and Charmeine flushed. “Then come with me.”

“Anywhere.” He grabbed her hand and stepped out of the car, following her. Letting her lead him into her world.

Triple-tapping the tracker on his wrist to let his team know where the rescue was.

Inside, the boring building was anything but staid or plain. The hall had been painted a soft sage green color, and the fluorescent overhead lights had been left off, while lamps on tables lit the space with a golden glow. The floor was a dark vinyl of some sort, and pictures of families and beautiful modern landscapes dotted the long expanses of wall space. Altogether, the effect was homey and comfortable.

“It’s not much,” Charmeine said as she walked down the hall. “But we’ve done the best we could with the funds and facilities available.”

“Not much? This place is amazing.”

Shifters crept out from doorways, looking wary until they saw Charmeine at his side. Their smiles and welcomes to her spoke more of her character than anything else could have. They trusted her, relied on her, and honestly seemed to like her. That was an amazing sight.

And then, there was Ethan…again.

“We have a call with Finn’s accountant team at one, so we should probably finish up the bookkeeping that should have been completed the afternoon you took off.”

Mammon growled, unable to stop himself until Charmeine placed a hand against his chest.

“Let me find Tucker so Mammon has something to do, and I’ll meet you in my office.”

Ethan didn’t seem to like that answer, but he accepted it with a head nod before stalking down the hall.

Mammon was glad to see him leave. “He’s fucking pleasant.”

Charmeine snorted a laugh and pressed her forehead into his chest. “He’s just protective of me.”

Mammon wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tighter. “So am I.”

“Miss O’Rourke.” An older, male shifter with a quick step and a big smile hurried down the hall, interrupting their moment. “I hear I have a new partner in crime.”

Charmeine kept her arm around Mammon’s waist as she faced him. “Hi, Tucker. This is Mammon, and he’ll be working with you today. Mammon, this is Tucker. He single-handedly rescued eight children from a fire the Hunters set outside of Billings a few years back. He’s been a real asset to us ever since.”

Mammon held out his hand, but Tucker grabbed his forearm instead, a traditional shifter greeting and a sign of respect.

“Nice to meet you, sir. And don’t listen to her. She likes to brag on me a bit.”

“Deservedly so, it seems,” Mammon said, already liking the older shifter. “And no sirs here; Mammon is fine.”

Charmeine gave his side one last squeeze. “I should get going. You’ll be okay?”

“Absolutely.” But as she turned to walk away, something inside of him lit up. A warning or intuition. Something that said he needed to do more. His wolf howled, and his skin itched with the need to shift. He wanted her beside him, wanted her where he could see her, smell her, save her if he needed to. He had no idea why, but something told him not to let Charmeine get out of his sights.

“Hang on.” He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. With a single snap, he unclasped the tracker and latched it around her wrist instead. “If it vibrates, tap it twice. Don’t forget.”

Charmeine smiled down at the band. “Are you telling me I need to get into shape?”

Mammon growled and pulled her close with his hand on her ass, turning so Tucker couldn’t see. “I like your shape just fine. Humor me, though.”

She shot him a confused look but didn’t take the band off. Mammon couldn’t hold back his whimpered growls, and he was sure there was a nervousness in his eyes that she noticed. He didn’t care. Let the world know he worried about his mate. They could judge him if they wanted, so long as she came home with him when the day was over.

He kissed her once. Twice. Then pulled away again. “Tap it twice every time it buzzes, okay?”

Charmeine wasn’t stupid, though, and Mammon was not nearly subtle. “Mammon, what—”

“Trust me. I know you don’t, but try for this one thing. Just…trust me.”

She fiddled with the band but nodded, still not looking comfortable. “Fine. But I want explanations.”

Yeah, he knew that was coming. “Absolutely. As soon as we leave here and get back to your place, I’ll be happy to tell you anything. Now go. I have work to do, and my boss looks ready to fire my ass.”

“Nah, we’re good. Though if you hurt the boss lady here, you’d need to worry about me kicking, not firing, your ass.” Tucker nodded to Charmeine, looking quite proud of himself. “I’ll make sure he earns his keep.”

“Thank you, Tucker. If you need me, I’ll be in my office with Ethan.”

Mammon flinched. He didn’t even like hearing her say that name.

Needing a distraction from the weird, edgy feeling chasing him, Mammon let his mate go. Let her walk away. Let her do what she needed to do. Even though he hated it.

C
leaning
out storerooms and building bunk beds hadn’t been Mammon’s favorite things about the visit to the rescue, though that was what took up the most time. No, his favorite moments had been meeting the residents there, especially some of the smaller children who snuck down the halls to get a peek at the new guy. Little shifters with big eyes and tiny hands. With shadows seeming to hover around them and scars embedded in their skin.

“They’re the real victims. To die is easy—to live with the memories of what those kids saw is the hardest part,” Tucker had said after one little boy ran off before Mammon could even say hi. That thought, that reality, left Mammon’s heart flayed open, left him feeling raw and overwhelmed with rage and grief. Left him needing comfort in a way he’d never experienced. So the second the work was done, he left Tucker in the back bedrooms to go find his mate.

“Mister Mammon,” a particularly cheeky little girl called, waving at him from the end of a hall. “Mister Finn is here, and we’re going to have a puppet show. Are you coming?”

Mammon grinned. That was Emerson, the one with the burns covering one side of her face. The one who’d grabbed his hand and grinned up at him before telling him he needed to shave. She’d captured a little piece of his soul with that smile, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her already.

“Absolutely, Emerson. But let me find Miss Charmeine first so she can watch it, too.”

“Okay!” Emerson raced back into the room, blond pigtails streaking behind her.

“She’d better not ever ask for a pony,” Mammon whispered to himself as he started back down the hall. “Because I’ll buy a whole damn stable for her.”

The building Charmeine rented for her refugees sprawled with multiple hallways leading off in cross patterns every so many feet. It was a confusing space, one easy to get turned around in, but Mammon was pretty sure where he should be going.

That was, until he saw Ethan standing down a darkened hallway he knew wasn’t the right one.

“Ethan?”

The shifter jerked back, his eyes wide as he stared at Mammon. As he looked about in what certainly seemed like a panic. Mammon’s wolf roared, and his instincts flared again. Something wasn’t right.