Free Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) by Ellis Leigh Page A

solid, the man seemed to take up much more space than the average person did. Mammon carried himself in such a way, with so much innate strength, as to seem to own the space around him simply by existing in it. Her eyes, so tired after her busy day, moved almost of their own accord, tracing the lines of his body. Following every curve and dip. She couldn’t help herself; she simply had to look.
    Muscled legs encased in dark slacks, a trim waist, ever widening frame leading up to broad shoulders. Arms like branches—thick and heavy. A cropped haircut, more military-like than most men wore. He exuded a level of danger that appealed to her in some way. Altogether, he reminded her of a soldier or a guard, a man out to protect something important, even in his dress pants and collared shirt. Someone on the defensive but ready to attack the unseen foe circling in the shadows. Appealing, but still a threat.
    Especially to her.
    Charmeine shoved the door closed, making sure it slammed into its frame. Might as well announce her presence. Mammon spun to face her, eyes going wide, literally looking her up and down. Inspecting her as she’d done to him only moments before. Perhaps he found her just as physically appealing, a thought that intrigued her. But the bold move on his part quickly forced her to go from interested to embarrassed. She had to be filthy from her day at the rescue.
    She lifted a shaky hand and patted her hair, trying and probably failing to force the stray ones back into place. Tugged her shirt a little lower, hoping the bleach spots she knew were on the hem weren’t too obvious. She fidgeted through many long, quiet seconds as Mammon simply stared…but then she stopped. Froze. Let her anger and resentment overthrow her need to please.
    This man had no power over her.
    No opinion from him mattered, no judgment ranked. She’d been doing what she loved all day, had helped numerous families, and would continue to help more in the coming weeks. Her being a filthy, smelly mess after a day of honest work should have been celebrated, not hidden.
    “Do I need to call security?” Charmeine asked, tipping her chin and refusing to give him even the hint of a smile.
    Mammon’s eyebrow rose—just one—and his lips quirked up in a crooked sort of smile. One that sent a shiver down Charmeine’s spine. But before he could answer—and certainly before Charmeine could throw herself at the big lug—Finn strolled out of the study. With two highball glasses in his hands and a rakish smile on his face, he looked his usual tidy, charming self. Charmeine could have smacked him.
    “Ah, there you are. I was about to delay dinner to track you down if—” Finn paused, his brow furrowing as he looked her over. She stood a little taller, refusing to give in to the desire to huddle in a corner or run to her room. Why today? Why would he bring this stranger into his home, and why would he do it on the day she’d spent scrubbing toilets? Did the fates hate her that much?
    She darted another glance at Mammon, her fated mate, who was still looking at her with that damnable, sexy smile. Yes—the fates definitely hated her that much.
    “What the hell have you been up to?” Finn asked, finally moving again, if only to hand a drink to Mammon.
    Charmeine didn’t like being backed into a figurative corner. She looked over the two with a snooty sort of arrogance she’d learned to emulate from her nastier aunts and uncles. The benefits to being raised around wealth weren’t all financial in nature.
    “It’s move-in time at the rescue. I spent my day cleaning and moving furniture so we were ready for the first residents.” She glared, wishing she could growl at Finn, too. But she couldn’t…wouldn’t. That would be too far over the line in front of company. Still, she blew a stray hair out of her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she sent Finn a death stare. He needed to know she wasn’t happy with him.
    But if Finn