Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (8 page)

The NALB and, by extension, the Dire Wolves, had failed their brethren.

“I’m sorry.” Mammon tossed his napkin onto his plate, his appetite gone. “If we’d have known—”

Of course, Charmeine wouldn’t miss that one. “
We
who?”

In timing that would never have been believed, the band on his wrist vibrated again. A check-in from Deus. His Dire Brothers doing their part to make sure he was safe. He tapped it twice almost out of habit, letting his thoughts cascade where they needed to go. Telling people he was a Dire Wolf was usually frowned upon. The seven of them protected their secret—the fact that any Dires were still alive—viciously and without fail. But Charmeine was his mate. She hadn’t accepted him yet, but they were joined by fate. Just like Bez and Sariel, like Levi and Amy. She had the right to know. And Finn, apparently, would come along for the ride.

“I work for the president of the NALB in the role of Cleaner.”

Finn sat back, eyeing Mammon hard. “You’re a trained killer.”

“No, I’m an investigator.” He focused back on Charmeine, hoping she could see the difference. “I have killed, yes, but not without good reason.”

But the disgust on her face spoke volumes. “What could be a good reason for murder?”

“We kill men like those in the Apex Hunters. Sick bastards who prey on their own and put every shifter at risk.”

Charmeine frowned, but Finn seemed intrigued. “So you’re a soldier for the NALB.”

Mammon could only shrug. “Sort of. President Zenne has guards and police-style forces in place. My pack…we tend to be a bit more specialized.”

The two stared at Mammon as if waiting for more. Not giving him anything to work with. So he shrugged again, and he kept his eyes on Charmeine’s as he released his biggest secret.

“My brothers and I, we’re Dire Wolves.”

“Impossible,” Finn said, a finality to his tone that brooked no room for argument. “The Dire Wolves have been extinct for ages.”

Mammon knew the idea of a species long-thought to be extinct actually sitting at the guy’s table would be a hard sell, but that didn’t stop the growl that rumbled through him at being called a liar. “Or so you think.”

“Or so the world knows. No Dire Wolves have been seen for centuries. Even the legends are mostly ignored these days.” Finn positively glowered as he grabbed his highball glass once more. “This is absurd.”

But it was Charmeine who surprised Mammon. “Let the man speak.”

Mammon stood instead, dropping his wristband on the table and yanking his shirt over his head. Charmeine’s eyes went wide, but he couldn’t focus on that. Not yet or else he’d be hard all over again. That wouldn’t be a good thing, especially not after he took off his belt and unzipped his pants.

“What are you doing?”

Charmeine’s shock nearly made him laugh. “Probably not what you think.”

He dropped his pants, giving his mate a chance to see just about every inch of him—which he noticed with glee that she took—before shifting to his wolf. If Finn knew the legends of the Dires, then he would know how to identify one. Their blocky heads, heavy jaws, and overall size were a good sign. But the killer, the absolute definition of a Dire Wolf identifier, were the spots that dotted their haunches and back. Ermine spots. Mammon’s had always been particularly dark and spread out, more noticeable than most of the other guys. Those spots were like a calling card.

Without waiting for either shifter to give him an all clear, he stalked around the table, walking right up to the woman the fates chose as his. His wolf practically purred, desperate to see her through his own eyes, wanting so much to rub his scent all over her. He settled for plopping his head in her lap instead.

“Holy shit.” Charmeine’s hands shook as she ran her fingers along the edges of his ears. His ermine spots were darkest along the back of his head and neck, unlike the rest of his brothers, who tended to show more along their hips and backs. Charmeine seemed to trace every one, pressing into his fur in a way that sent him reeling. As much as he resisted the desire, hated feeling so out of control since the moment they met, he wanted her. And maybe he didn’t hate that free fall as much as he thought. He liked being close to her, liked her smell and the silkiness of her skin. He liked her in that moment. Looking soft and sweet, inquisitive even. Her fingers in his fur, her scent filling his senses. Yeah, he liked her.

Still, he pulled himself away after only a minute or so and plodded back to his side of the table. All eyes remained on him when he shifted human. Leaving fur behind for skin…lots of very bare skin. He yanked on his pants for the sake of decency but left his shirt off. Left his napkin on the table, too. He’d just shifted in the middle of the dining room, and he needed a minute to resettle his wolf. Fuck manners.

“I didn’t believe you,” Charmeine said, her voice faint and almost regretful.

“No, you didn’t. But that’s okay. I’ve given you no reason to believe anything I say.”

Finn sighed. “So secrets on all sides.”

“Seems like it.” Feeling a bit more in control, Mammon yanked his shirt over his head and took his seat with a sigh, examining what he knew about Charmeine from all angles. True, she seemed a bit uppity and high maintenance on the outside, but seeing her excitement over the rescue, her steadfast need to protect the people there… That showed a different side of her. A side he found extremely attractive. More so than he had thought possible. And she was in danger.

“I want to officially notify the NALB about all of this,” Mammon said once he’d refastened his wristband. The last thing he needed was to miss a vibration and have a crew of Dire Wolves storming the O’Rourke mansion. “President Zenne needs to hear these stories to understand the situation. Your family, the others, the Apex Hunters’ tactics, the information on the rescue effort…all of it.”

“I still don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Finn shook his head. “I don’t see what they can do now that they couldn’t do the first time they tried to end the Hunters.”

Mammon shrugged, one side of his mouth kicking up in a smirk. “They can call in the Dire Wolves, and we’ll take care of everything.”

Finn still seemed wary, but Mammon was done trying to convince him. He knew exactly what he and his brothers were capable of—and how they would do anything necessary to protect one of their own. Charmeine being an Omega made her one of their own, even before the fates chose her as his mate.

“I’m not ready to antagonize the Hunters, not with so many refugees all on the road.” Charmeine bit her lip, looking downright afraid as she glanced at Finn. Mammon couldn’t have that. He leaned across the table, reaching for her. Ignoring her reluctance to take his hand.

“I won’t sell you out. I promise. I only want to remove the threat so everyone can be safe once more.”

But Charmeine didn’t cave easily, not that he could blame her. “I don’t trust you.”

“I know, but we’re your best shot at getting rid of the Apex Hunters once and for all. I’m—” he almost choked on the word, knowing they weren’t yet at a place to accept their fates but needing to make himself clear “—your mate. The fates brought us together, and I won’t betray them or you. You don’t have to trust me yet, just put a little faith in the Dire Wolves. Let us help you. And in the end, you might learn to trust me just a little.”

Charmeine shrugged a single shoulder and looked away. Ignoring him again. But that was okay. He had time. Not much, if these assholes really were after her, but some. Remove the threat, then deal with the woman. Sounded like a plan to him.

If only his wolf and his cock would get on the same page as his head.

C
harmeine needed
to get her mate out of the house before she did something stupid like kill him…or kiss him. How on earth could someone so irritating be so hot? And why did Finn think bringing him into the house was a good idea?

“Another drink, Mammon?”

Damn him.
Finn’s words almost made her scream. Why was he not cooperating? Couldn’t Finn see the stiffness to her shoulders? Couldn’t he sense the tension?

Mammon…well, he certainly didn’t seem to notice a damned thing. “Sure. I’ve got time.”

Of course, he does.

“Charmeine?” Mammon’s smooth voice saying her name did things to her. Things she wasn’t ready to admit affected her. Things she liked.

Things that turned her words harsh and her tongue sharp. “What?”

Mammon’s returning smile—the way one corner turned up a little more than the other—fascinated her. She couldn’t even make him mad, it seemed.

“Would you care for a drink?” Soft words, that smile, and a look that said he knew he was getting to her…and didn’t care. Her mate was quickly finding every way under her skin.

And she had no idea how to stop him. “Martini, please.”

“Martini for the lady.” Finn headed for the bar in the corner, leaving Mammon and Charmeine in an awkward, tension-filled silence. The sort of tension that left her practically panting. What
was
this nonsense and why couldn’t she control herself?

But before Finn could pour a single drink, one of his guards came hurrying into the room. “Sir, a moment.”

Finn sighed, meeting Charmeine’s eyes for a long, meaningful look. “I need to deal with something.”

Of course, he did, which meant she would be left alone with her mate. Heaven help them both.

The smile Charmeine pasted on her face was about as fake as they came, but the best she could do considering the way her knees were practically shaking under her skirt. “Certainly. Don’t let us hold you up.”

Finn’s irritated expression told her she’d hit a nerve, though that didn’t stop him from walking out of the room. Always working. Always hustling. And now he’d left her alone with a man she didn’t trust. One who sparked something hot and needy within her. Wonderful.

“Good thing I know my way around a bar.” Mammon stepped in to finish Finn’s job, pouring liquor into glasses, even humming while he did so. An odd thing for a man who looked as if he could tear your arm off without thinking about it. Charmeine watched him, completely fascinated by the way his muscles made his shirt pull tight when he lifted his arms. The way his pants hugged his hips and thighs. The way the fabric slid over every sensual, strong inch of him.

“Dirty?”

Charmeine jerked to attention, ripping her eyes away from the muscles corded along his arm and meeting his gaze. A mistake, for sure. Those dark eyes saw too much.

“Excuse me?”

Oh, that smirk. That naughty smirk made her breath catch and her heart fly. Mammon was deadly in so many ways. “Do you want it dirty? The martini?”

“Yes, I do, though I don’t care for innuendo.”

“I’m just talking about a drink, Charmeine. Nothing more, nothing less.” He turned back to the bar, giving her the opportunity to watch him in action again. To fight the need within that made her want to run her hands over every inch of muscle he carried, to know what it felt like. What it tasted like.

She needed to get away from him before she did something stupid.

Turning, she forced herself to peruse the shelves instead of the man across the room. Books were safe, solid. Sure. Mammon was…dangerous. Wild. The unknown. She should focus on the books.

But Mammon threw that option out the window when he walked over to hand her a martini glass with six olives in it. “Dirty. Just the way you like it.”

Her wolf practically purred, the hussy. “Thank you.”

The glass felt cold to the touch, but his fingers were warm. Hot even as they brushed against hers. As they stayed in contact for far longer than necessary. And his eyes, those dark, deep eyes, sparked with something luminescent. Something bright and ethereal. Something wild. She held her breath, waiting for him to break contact, unable to do so herself. The scent of him, the warmth, was more than she could handle. More than she could refuse.

But there was no way she would admit that.

“So,” Mammon said when he finally—
finally
—released her from his witchcraft touch. He drawled the word, lips and tongue and voice turning each letter into something more, something sensual. “Nice books.”

Spell broken by books, just as she’d hoped. It took effort to breathe, to smile, but she had a focal point now. The books. “They are, aren’t they? Finn has dragged them across the country and back several times. He refuses to live without them.”

Mammon approached a shelf and ran his fingers over the spines. A simple touch, but one that seemed almost gentle. Loving. The sign of someone who enjoyed slipping inside the pages.
“It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.”

Charmeine cocked her head, appraising him. Completely unable to hide her surprise. “Oscar Wilde.”

Mammon smiled before taking a book off the shelf. “Yes, and quite accurate, I believe.”

Unable to resist her pull to him, she stepped closer. Wanting to see which book he’d chosen. Wanting to breathe in that warm, oaky scent some more. “And how does Finn do in terms of what he chooses to read?”

Mammon glanced around the room, his eyes stopping now and again on different bookcases. “Classic literature, historical biographies, war memoirs, and nonfiction business titles…all things I expected. But those—” He closed the book and returned it to the shelf before striding across the room to the far corner, the shelves tucked beside the bar where he’d made their drinks. Charmeine knew where he was headed before he got there, and she felt no need to follow. Instead, she sat on one of the leather couches, sipping her martini and waiting for the question she knew was coming.

“Did you know Finn was a fan of Judy Bloom?”

Her laugh was inelegant at best, an almost cackle at worst. “Those are mine, of course.”

He smiled over his shoulder before grabbing one off the shelf. “
Blubber
.”

“A tale of bullying.”

“Yes, I know.” He flipped through the pages, frowning. “And yet, no resolution comes. The children aren’t punished for being so cruel to one of the others, the friendships aren’t redeemed, and the main character is still sort of…well, bratty.”

It took Charmeine a long handful of seconds to find her voice. “You’ve read
Blubber
?”

Mammon shrugged, as if his knowing the story details of
Blubber
—having obviously read it enough to remember key bits—wasn’t one of the most attractive things a man had ever admitted to.

“I read a lot. Mostly fiction, though some nonfiction if it strikes my fancy. Young adult novels often deal with tough subjects, like bullying. You can’t understand the human if you don’t understand how their experiences have formed their perceptions.” He set the book back on the shelf carefully, as if it had value beyond the paper it was made of. Something so oddly attractive, she nearly purred.

“What else do you read?” Mammon asked as he sat beside her. Not too close, though—giving her room to breathe. To keep her from feeling crowded. A fact she hadn’t expected. Though she really hadn’t expected anything about this night, especially how much her body craved his touch.

“Anything.” Charmeine refused to give in, sitting farther back in the corner to put more space between them. “Newspapers, magazines, literary fiction, romance, encyclopedias.”

Mammon chuckled. “Encyclopedias? You still have those?”

“Of course.” She smiled, unable to help herself. “Because of the threats around us, we were stuck inside a lot as children. Finn and I spent a good deal of time in studies like this one with his father.”

“So your love of reading comes from his dad?”

Charmeine tucked her legs beneath her. “No, not necessarily. My parents read to me as well, though I’m not sure even their influence lasted. I simply needed to escape from the hell my life became after their murders, and books gave me that.”

Mammon growled low and deep, an unhuman sound. One that evoked fear instead of arousal. Mating haze thrown off, her instincts came down to fight or flight. Something she was much more accustomed to.

Charmeine was up and moving before she could think, trying to run. To escape his presence. God, he was an animal, more so than the other shifters she knew. More dangerous. To her, especially.

“Charmeine, wait.”

“You don’t need to growl at me,” she said, glaring as he rose to his feet. Still backing away.

“I wasn’t growling
at you
. I was growling because of the situation you don’t deserve to be in.”

But her doubt remained high, her need to run strong. Not enough to make her feet actually head for the hallway, but enough to inch backward as he came closer. “You don’t need to do that, either. I’d rather you controlled yourself in this house.”

Mammon stopped, his eyes turning darker, his head cocking. More animal-looking than ever. More frightening. “You want to see me controlled?”

A punch to the chest, those words. One that made her shake. Made her shiver at their tone. “No, I…I want you to behave as a person should.”

“I’m not a person, Charmeine.” He stepped closer. Slowly. Looking more like a predator with every inch he gained. “I’m a wolf, and a damn strong one. A Dire. I can tell you deny your animal side, but I refuse to. My inner wolf is happy, is a true partner in my life. And we can tell that the poor beast inside you is locked up so tight, you barely feel her.”

Charmeine’s wolf stayed silent, watching from within her. Not fighting back against the words she knew—or hoped—were untrue. “You know nothing.”

“Then tell me.”

But her heart had hardened, her mind closing him out. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I don’t—” She couldn’t say it. Wanted to, needed to let him know she didn’t trust him, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You don’t what?” Mammon asked, pushing her. Refusing to let up. “Tell me.”

An order.
And there it was. The anger, the wall keeping her from letting him in. “No.”

Mammon sighed, shaking his head before pinning her with his glare. “Are you always such a brat?”

“Are you always such a cretin?”

Mammon growled again, stalking toward her. Charmeine took an involuntary step back. He was pushing her, hunting her, and while this side of him brought back all those needing, wanting feelings of desire he’d caused earlier in the evening, she wasn’t going to let him rule her. Wasn’t going to give in to his…anything.

“I know you feel what I feel, Charmeine.”

Her back hit the bookshelf. Trapped. She swallowed hard and held her ground, refusing to surrender to him. “Hardly. Curious, maybe, as one might be when they come upon a strange insect or animal. A fuzzy squirrel, perhaps.”

His growl made her knees quiver, but she locked them into place. “Did you just call me a squirrel?”

“No.” Breathy, no fire behind that word. She tried harder. “I compared you to one, but technically, I didn’t call you one.”

His hands, those huge, strong hands, landed on either side of her shoulders as he leaned in. She was trapped, boxed, caged by the sheer thickness of him. And God save her, she liked it more than she feared it.

“You put up a good front, Char. But you forgot one key piece of information I have against you.”

“What information did I forget?” How could she speak? How could she open her mouth and not just groan? She had no idea. The man overpowered her without a touch, dominated without intention. He inched closer, his body brushing hers. She could feel the warmth, could practically taste him on the air. Her quivers traveled up and down her body, making her shake with need. With desire. Every inch of her in tune to every inch of him. Every thought completely dialed in to what he was doing or saying. There was no escaping his presence.

Mammon leaned in farther, running his nose over her cheek to her ear. Barely a brush of skin, but enough to make her bite back a moan. To make her practically dissolve into a puddle of want and craving. To make her—

“I can smell you.”

It took Charmeine a moment to decipher his words, but when she did, her temper flared hotter than the sun. Spell broken once more. “How dare you be so crass?”

“How dare you not ask for what you need?”

“You have no idea what I need.” She pushed his shoulder, trying to move him. A fruitless effort and one that worked against her. He grabbed her wrist, held it, kept a physical contact that only made her body itch for more. Made her heart jump and her breath catch. Traitorous hormones.

“I know exactly what you need,” he murmured, his voice rough, his growl undeniable. “What I don’t know is why you won’t give in and let yourself have it. Let go and take what you want, baby.” This time, he pushed her back against the shelves. Trapping her. Pressed the two of them together from shoulder to waist. But that wasn’t enough. Not for her, no. She rocked her hips forward, soft and subtle. Teasing…curious. But there was no soft or subtle when it came to the man chosen as her mate. The hardness, the ridge of steel in his pants screamed to her. She sought more contact. Wanting to understand the girth of him, the desire he obviously experienced around her.

He moaned at the contact, and her eyes fluttered, the two moving in concert. Tiny brushes, a little added pressure here and there. A rough, almost-dry hump while standing up against the bookshelves in the study, mostly clothed, too pissed at each other to give in and get what they needed.

Until he spoke again.

“No one has to know that I get you wet simply by breathing the same air.” He growled low, making her entire body quake. “You think I’m any less immune to you? Jesus, woman. I’m hard every second around you.”

She mashed their lips together in a kiss just this side of painful. She hated him and his filthy mouth, but damn did the man know how to kiss. Tongues sliding, breaths gasping, they kissed like a couple going down in flames. As if they’d never meet like this again, so that kiss was their one shot. And maybe it was, but at that moment, Charmeine couldn’t have stopped to save her life.