Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (4 page)

T
he fates were
assholes bent on making people miserable.

Mammon peeled out toward his place as if he was being chased. His turns were too sharp, his grip on the accelerator too tight, making the bike rev to a level that crept a little too close to the red line. But he was pissed and needing a release, and pushing his sport bike to the absolute limit was better than any of the other things he could do to blow off steam.

Every thought in his head centered on one thing, every fear pushing him to ride harder, go faster, hinged on the same fucking thing. Charmeine…his mate. His fated match, the only one he’d ever have. Just the thought of her name had him driving harder in his rush to escape her clutches. Not that she was clutching. Not really.

Okay, not at all. The woman was about as far from clutching at him as could be. Kicking him out was more like it.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Mammon dropped low over the tank as he hit the highway, maxing out his engine on the entrance ramp. He was running—something Dire Wolves never did—and didn’t that thought just chap his ass? But how was he supposed to deal with the pile of shit the fates had thrown in his lap? She was his enemy’s…friend? Lover? A disgusting thought on so many levels but one that would have to be addressed at some point. Perhaps Charmeine and Finn were business partners. Easier to digest, but still an issue. He couldn’t trust someone who stood at Finn O'Rourke's side the way Charmeine had. No way. She was an enemy by association at the very least.

And yet, the draw to her, the pull to turn around and find her, was almost too strong to ignore. Mammon clenched the grips tighter and stormed down the highway, hating that he had to consciously think about where he was going so he didn’t instinctually turn the bike around and head to the O’Rourke’s place. Hating that one chance meeting had taken so much control from him.

He despised being mated.

When Mammon finally leaned into the curve that would bring him to the parking lot at the place he considered home, Phego’s truck sitting right next to his just pissed him off even more. Why the bastard needed to be there, Mammon had no idea. But he knew he wouldn't like it.

He trudged up the stairs and to the door marking his tiny claimed space in the world, dreading having to deal with his Dire brother. This entire day had gone to hell, and he couldn’t even get a night alone to break shit and get drunk. Wonderful.

Mammon stormed inside his little rented studio apartment and slammed the door behind him. Phego stayed sprawled on the couch, his feet resting on the end table Mammon usually used as a dinner table. Feet up, propped against pillows, and watching the small television on the dresser, the fucker looked to be the picture of cool and relaxed. Mammon knew better.

“What do you want?”

Phego didn’t even twitch. “Deus called me in a panic.”

“Deus doesn’t panic.”

Phego lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Fine. He called me in about as much of a panic as I’d ever heard from him. Seemed like you’d gone into enemy territory alone, and he wanted someone to run backup in case you needed help getting out.”

Fucking computer expert and his need to microchip the phones of each Dire
just in case
. Tonight had not been a just-in-case moment. “I didn’t need help.”

“I know. I was there when you left.” Phego wasn't one to mince words, but even for him that statement dropped with a weight that just about shattered what little control Mammon had left.

Slow and predator-like, unable to stop himself from stalking the man he saw as his brother, Mammon crept across the room. “You were there?”

“Your mate is very pretty.”

And there it was, Mammon's truth laid bare in five little words. There would be no hiding from this, no avoiding it. The Dire Wolf pack would all know simply because that's how they were. No lies, no running away when things got rough, no avoiding the reality of any predicament. No going into dangerous situations alone. There was no way Mammon could live up to those expectations when it came to Charmeine. Not at all.

“Shit.” Mammon picked up an almost-empty water bottle and threw it across the room, denting the wall. He'd have to fix that at some point, but seeing drywall crumble to the floor was oddly satisfying. Totally worth it.

Phego, on the other hand, just relaxed into the couch cushions, looking completely calm and collected. “Deus is pulling information on her now. Phone numbers, addresses, anything he can find. You’ll have it in a few hours. You should call Bez.”

“No.”

Bez was too far into his own world, having been with Sariel for well over a year. The man would tell Mammon to go back, grab his mate, and drag her home like some sort of caveman. Not happening.

Mammon stomped to the kitchenette in the corner. Though calling it a kitchenette was giving the space grand goals to live up to. It was more of three tiny cabinets with an even smaller sink, a mini refrigerator, a microwave, and a coffeemaker. And his supply of liquor.

“Call Levi.”

Mammon paused, Jack Daniel's in hand. That idea had merit. Levi had just found his mate a few weeks ago, had stumbled on her in the middle of a mission just like Bez when he found Sariel. Mammon still had a slight divot in his arm from where he’d been shot as Levi, Phego, Thaus, and he worked together to save Amy from some crazed shifter and his human friends. It'd been hardly any time at all, really, which meant mating was just about as new to the kid as it was to Mammon. Okay, not really, but still. Close enough.

Mammon's phone was in his hand before he realized he’d even taken it out of his pocket.

The line rang three times, an excessive amount in his opinion, but then the voice he wanted to hear came through the speaker.

“What’s doing?”

Mammon had never been more relieved to hear those two words from the kid. As he began to pace the length of the room, the entry door snicked closed. Phego had left without a word, giving Mammon the privacy he needed for a call like this. A fact Mammon appreciated.

“I need to talk to you, kid.”

“Okay.” Levi's voice turned wary, cautious. He knew something was up.

“I…” Mammon paused, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and said the words he needed to. “I met my mate tonight.”

“That’s awesome news!” Levi’s excitement nearly made Mammon drop the phone, but he didn’t. He held on, wishing he had led with a different line.

“Stop, man. It’s…not so awesome.”

“Why not?”

Another breath. Another second to make sure his words came out in the right order. Without expletives. “She’s a personal
guest
of Finn O’Rourke.”

“Oh…so she’s like…I mean, maybe she’s not his…well, shit.”

“Yeah. That was about my reaction.” Mammon sank to the floor with his back to the end of the bed. “I don’t know what she is to him, but she’s close enough to be staying in his house and get a personal introduction party hosted there.”

“Could be related,” Levi grunted before Mammon could respond. “That’ll make for some awkward holiday dinners.”

Sighing, Mammon dropped his head on the mattress to stare at the ceiling. Blank white space stared back…a nothingness he felt all the way to his toes. “I can’t go through with it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The mating. There’s no way I can trust someone who has a relationship with my enemy.”

Levi’s sigh caused a rush of static over the line but not enough to hide the frustration in his voice. “He’s not your enemy.”

“Bullshit,” Mammon responded, the words hard and direct.

Levi sighed again, the asshole. “You’ve had a hard-on for that pack for two years now. Ever stopped to wonder why?”

The eyeroll Mammon performed could have won an award for epicness. “Uh, because they’re criminals invading my home?”

“If that were the only reason, you’d have requested an investigation and let the Feral Breed or the Cleaners handle it. But you didn’t. You staked them out yourself between missions, even though you never acted on a single thing. Why is that?”

The kid had a true talent for pissing Mammon off. “I don’t know, genius. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Tell you? Shit, man—I don’t know. I’m just making conversation.”

Mammon’s snort of laughter couldn’t have been stopped if he’d tried, not that he did. “Fucker.”

“Yeah, I am.” Levi’s voice dropped, becoming more serious. “I’m a fucker who claims his mate as often as he can because he loves her and can’t stand to be away from her for long. How’re you feeling about
your
mate right now?”

Mammon sighed, the sound turning to a frustrated growl. How was he feeling? Like he wanted to run back to O’Rourke’s house and fall to his knees before her. Like he wanted to grab her by the arm and yank her away from that place. Like he wanted to give up everything to have her or maybe give up everything to run from her. In other words, he was fucked.

“That’s what I figured,” Levi said. “Look. The fates don’t mess around with this stuff. My need to be with Amy was, and still is, ridiculous. It eats at me. I could barely resist her before we exchanged mating bites, so I’m not sure how you can possibly think you’re not going to fall for it.”

“I can resist.”

“Liar. But go ahead and try. You’ll be miserable. But you know what’s worse? You’ll make her miserable.”

Mammon’s stomach plummeted, and his heart actually ached. As much as he hated the O’Rourkes and everything they did, he didn’t want his mate miserable. Not for a single second.

“Shit.” Mammon ran a hand over his face, trying to clear away the thoughts of Charmeine so he could focus on finding a solution. Instead, all he could see, all he could think about, was her face as he was being pulled away. The sadness, the wall. The loneliness. “Are you happy, Levi?”

“Ecstatic.” Levi’s answer was too bright, too quick. Mammon had trouble believing him.

“I mean there…in Hope Ridge. Locked down in some small town after being on your own and free for so long. It’s different than the life you lived before her.”

“Different, but not in a bad way. Amy’s teaching me about roots and making a place for yourself. Her pack is a lot of fun, and her brothers—all fucking twelve of them—have taken to trying to beat me at wrestling. It’s sort of awesome being able to kick their asses without getting into trouble. But even if it wasn’t fifteen levels of A-OK? Even if her family hated me and this town felt like a prison? It wouldn’t matter.”

Mammon knew what the answer would be, but he had to ask the question anyway. “Why not?”

“Because I’d have Amy by my side. She makes everything worth it.” And there it was, the truth Mammon had no idea what to do with.

“Point made, kid.”

“Good. Now get off the phone and figure out a plan to get your mate. I’m down for an extraction or retrieval if need be. Just call.”

That was a Dire Wolf for you—newly mated but ready to battle beside his brothers. Mammon couldn’t have asked for a better team. Which was why he felt comfortable admitting his fear. “I’m pretty sure she hates me. She fucking slapped me right in the face tonight.”

“A real slap?”

“My jaw still stings a bit.”

Levi chuckled. “Hate sex can be hot, old man. Just go for it.”

Mammon laughed right along with him, feeling a million times more centered than he had when he’d initiated the phone call. Still negative, but on solid ground once more. “Go be all happy and shit, kid. I’ve got stuff to do.”

He swiped to disconnect the call and tossed the phone on the bed. Pictures of his mate, of
Charmeine
, cycled through his mind. Her silky hair, her pale skin, the fierceness in her eyes. The brave way she didn’t let Mammon pull any shit on her. She was like some sort of warrior, defending her land and home. And fuck him if that wasn’t hot.

Without thought to the action, his hand slid down past his waistband. Pressing into his cock over his jeans. Every picture, every thought, focused on his mate. His
mate
. The one woman the fates chose who would complete his life. And even though he thought that was some bullshit still, he couldn’t resist the idea of her and him…
mating
. He wanted to see if her skin was that pale all over, if those curves she’d hidden beneath her dress felt as good as they looked. Wanted to know what she tasted like and how her body would react when he made her come.

Pants undone, hand sliding underneath to grip his hard cock, he gave in to the temptation. To play, to imagine, to fantasize. Just once. Just this one time he’d jack off to thoughts of his mate. Then he’d stop so he could focus on figuring out a way out of this mess. Because he would get out of it—he had to. No matter how happy Levi seemed, this was a different situation. A doomed one.

Fingers sliding, hand gripping, he tugged and pulled and thrust until he came all over his own hand. Until thoughts of ice-blond hair and big, blue eyes brought him to his figurative knees.

When he was through, spent and panting as he sat on the rough carpet, he dropped his head back again and stared at that white ceiling. At the nothingness it represented.

What the hell was he going to do to break this mating?

C
harmeine stared out the window
, refusing to touch her oatmeal. Finn sat across from her as he had every morning since the party, attacking her choices in that niggling way of his. The man was a bulldog, completely unable to let go of something once he zeroed in on it. He pushed and prodded while she stood fast to her convictions and plans. Two people at opposite ends of the fight. Neither making any headway at convincing the other.

The breakfast table had become a battleground.

“Think about it,” Finn cajoled, trying so hard to sound gentle. Persuasive. But Charmeine saw through his façade.

“No.”

Her answer hadn’t wavered in days, not since the night her mate had barged into Finn’s house to make some sort of point. She’d stopped expanding on her refusal, sticking with a one-word answer that should have been enough to make Finn stop harassing her.

Should have…but wasn’t.

“Damn it, Charmeine.” Finn threw his napkin on the table, glaring her way.

That just wouldn’t do. “I can’t trust him, Finn.”

“He’s your mate.”

“Did that save your aunt Fiona?”

Her words were clipped, harsher than they should have been, but she needed to make her point. She remembered Finn’s aunt well. The woman had mated to a man their pack had seen as an enemy, too. That man had come into the O’Rourke family—been welcomed, even—and had made a place for himself for a number of years. But then the Apex Hunters got to him, and he sold out the family just as a stranger would have. Fiona O’Rourke was killed in the fight, Finn’s parents both injured. And Charmeine had lost her belief that the fates were anything other than liars.

No, Charmeine didn’t see mating as the trust-builder Finn did.

But the man was nothing if not stubborn. “You can’t compare all men to that traitor.”

Charmeine cocked her head, thinking over his words. And dismissing them. She could, she absolutely could. “The Apex Hunters have been slaughtering us for centuries. Bringing in outside help didn’t stop them, trying to hide didn’t stop them, being mated didn’t stop them…nothing stops them, Finn. I refuse to put my friends—what little family you have left—up for target practice simply because the fates think this…
man
…is a good fit for me.”

Finn sat back, eyeing her coolly. “And if he’s not the enemy?”

Charmeine swallowed back the hope that grew at his words and seemed to warm her heart. The emotion she couldn’t give in to for a single moment. “He’s been watching you for two years, if not longer. If he’s not in with the Apex Hunters now, he will be soon.”

“We’ve gone two decades without a single fated union, and you want to ignore yours. Why must you be so pessimistic?”

Charmeine huffed a laugh. “Realistic is more like it. The bastards won’t pass up the sort of knowledge one gets from stalking a pack like yours.”

Finn shrugged, a move that looked far too forced to be believable. “He never acted on anything.”

“Until he walked into your home three nights ago.” Charmeine shook her head, nearly growling in her anger. Fighting hard for her last sliver of control. “They will find him, and then he’ll be a weapon against all of us.”

Finn sat quietly for a few moments, contemplating something only he could see. “The Hunters have done the whole mate-as-traitor thing. They won’t repeat themselves.”

“That’s a chance I’m not willing to take.” Charmeine tossed her napkin over her bowl, too angry to even think of eating. Those were hard words said in a tone she’d never used with Finn before. Sounds that showed her anger but focused on her fear. She would need to rein herself in if she was going to keep the rest of the family calm. Brave faces led confident troops.

Finn grew quiet again, staring out the window as Charmeine ignored her oatmeal. He was right—the Hunters never pulled the same tricks twice. They liked to give the O’Rourkes a few years of peace before showing up unannounced in some new and deceptive way. They seemed to enjoy the spy-game aspect of their hunt more than anything. Except the killing. She remembered well the night her parents died. What those murderous bastards did to them. The Hunters definitely enjoyed the killing.

“Is it worth it?”

Finn’s question pulled Charmeine from her brutal memories. “Is what worth it?”

“This. The life we’re both stuck living. My running this business.”

“Of course, it is.” Her words were automatic, but her brain still snagged on the thought. Worth it? Worth what? Because she didn’t remember much from a time before the Hunters had blown her life apart.

Finn rolled his eyes, probably seeing right through her as he always did. “It’s very public, what I do. I thought perhaps that would keep the Hunters from trying anything, but then…”

He trailed off, but Charmeine knew where his thoughts had gone. As well as he knew her, she knew him the same. There was no hiding from each other.

“But then we got word that they’d infiltrated my New York world, and I had to run again.”

“Exactly.” Finn frowned. “I wanted so much more for you than this. I wanted better for both of us.”

Charmeine was up and moving toward Finn before he even finished his sentence, sliding her arms around him from behind the second she drew near. “Your business dealings keep the last of your family safe. The money keeps them hidden so they won’t be murdered in their sleep like the ones before them. Your team has built a fortress of protection around this city with informants in every corner. This is the safest any of us have been in decades.”

Finn gripped her forearm, holding on to her like a lifeline. “But is it enough? When will it ever be enough?”

Charmeine shifted forward, dropping to her knees at his side so she could meet his tortured gaze. “For the past six years, we haven’t lost a single soul. In fact, we’ve grown. There are children running around, cousins playing together. New generations brought into the world all because you were brave enough to chase your idea of setting everyone up in one area that you protected. A city you ran, where we could all live normal lives. That’s what you’re working for.”

“And yet, we’re still alone. Well, I am.” He sighed, grasping her wrist to pull her into his lap. “I want this fated union to work for you. You’re practically my sister, and to see you happy and protected would bring me nothing but joy. But I can understand your hesitancy, and I will try my best not to push again.”

“Good.” She kissed the top of his head and cuddled closer, the two sitting in one chair as they had a million times before. Comforting each other in times of stress and hardship.

Eventually, though, Finn pulled away with a sigh, helping Charmeine back to her feet before rising to his own. “I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but I have some business to attend to. You’ll be all right by yourself?”

Charmeine pasted her customary smile on her face, a force of habit too hard to break. “Of course. You go work. I’ll be fine.”

Finn shook his head—seeing through her as usual—but didn’t call her on it. Instead, he kissed her cheek before heading for the door. “You should go for a run. Your wolf needs to be let out.”

“Soon, perhaps.” She ignored the whine from her inner beast. That lonely, sad sound would do them no good. Finn’s security detail was stretched thin enough. She didn’t need to add to their burden for something as selfish as a run.

But there were moments, like right then, when she really wanted to.

The second the smack of his dress shoes on the stone grew too far away to hear clearly, Charmeine sank into his chair, letting the smile slide from her face. Alone again. The aching sense of being the last ship in the storm had followed her from New York, whispering in her ear about her failures and fears. New York had been busy, active, a city you could almost hide in. But here…

Here there was so much to do, but far too much to worry about getting in the way.

She needed to work. First project being securing accommodations for Finn’s family, the ones converging on the area. Already—with barely a handful of refugees having arrived—Finn’s house was far over capacity. She needed to find a rental property to house them all quickly. And then there was
him
. The man Finn had called Mammon…her mate. The bond she hadn’t been expecting. What a cruel joke, to offer up something as wonderful as a mating to someone as cold and closed off as she. What were the fates thinking? She had no time for such things—and definitely not the ignorance to give in to her attraction and risk the lives of those who relied on her. No. There would be no mating, no matter how much that thought made her wolf want to howl mournfully at the moon.

“Charmeine?” Ethan leaned in the doorway, looking a bit wary. She’d been putting him off for the past three days, too focused on the drama around Mammon to concentrate on work. But that ended. Now.

Charmeine pasted her smile back on. “Yes?”

“I have three rental properties to visit this morning, and I wasn’t sure…”

Charmeine brushed aside thoughts of matings and families and the harsh losses she’d seen from both to concentrate on the future. The growth. The blessings they had worked so hard to earn. “Of course. Let me clean up, and we can go.”

Ethan seemed surprised, though pleasantly so. “Very good. I’ll wait for you in the foyer.”