Allan cleared his throat. “I brought my portfolio in. Do you want to see some of my pictures?”
Grateful for the distraction, Hannah sucked in a deep breath and snapped her gaze up again. “Yes, I’d love to.”
He slipped a large leather case onto the table. She hadn’t even noticed he’d carried it in with him, opening her mouth to say that when he unzipped it and flopped it open to the most stunning close-up of Mayhem. She gasped as she leaned forward, mesmerized by the sparkle highlighted in Mayhem’s eyes. It was as if he was right there staring at her. “Beautiful!”
Allan turned the book fully to face her and flipped it to the beginning.
It started with a few shots of other musicians, ones she really didn’t recognize—nice photos—but the shots of Riot were what had her riveted. There were hundreds of them.
“This is quite a collection.” She smiled as she flipped from one photo to the next.
There were pictures of Mayhem on stage, screaming into the mic, some of him signing autographs, others of him walking down the street. All were candid shots, and Hannah was pretty sure that Mayhem hadn’t posed for any, seemingly unaware that the camera was on him. It was obviously the best way to capture the man. His personality blasting through each and every picture. Strong, confident, and very, very male. It was breathtaking and Hannah’s heart raced just looking at him. It spoke to Allan’s talent as a photographer. She could see why Mayhem hired him.
She flipped to the next batch to find more of the rest of the band. “You’ve been their photographer for a while then?”
Allan took a sip of his wine and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been studying them for years. Captivating subjects.” He caught her eye and smiled. “Not as captivating as you though, Hannah.” He reached across the table and ran his fingers over her hand. “I’d love to take your picture one day. Would you ever consider posing for me?”
The way he said it held a suggestion of something more, a deeper meaning that had her blushing once again. She pulled her hand back with a shy smile. “There’s nothing special about me.” She shrugged. “Besides, you’ve got your subject. It’s Mayhem that we need to focus on.”
Allan shook his head as he sat back in his chair. “I beg to disagree. Nothing special, with that hair? Those eyes? You’d light my camera on fire!” He shook his head again. “I’ll just have to show you, really show you, how you look under the lens.”
Hannah giggled quietly, her face growing warmer. “Well…”
Allan moved to pour her more wine and she put her hand over the top of her glass.
“Oh no, I think I’ve had enough. As it is, I might have some trouble on the flight.” She pushed her chair back with a little effort, her body feeling very comfortable staying put. “I’m going to use the washroom and then I really need to be going.”
Allan nodded, his smile fading as fast as it had come. “Of course. I’ll get the bill and we’ll head out.”
Hannah nodded as she stood, swinging her purse over her shoulder and steadying herself on the back of the chair. Whoa, there, girl. Way too much wine. She chuckled to herself, not really knowing what had gotten into her. She was so not a drinker and had only ever been drunk a couple of times in her life. She wasn’t drunk now, but definitely not sober either. With a small shake of her head, she made her way through the intimate dining suites to the ladies room, pulling out her phone as she did.
Once inside she hit Mayhem’s number again and cleared her throat, hoping to heck that she didn’t sound as tipsy as she felt. “Hey, Mayhem…”
When she returned to the table Allan was signing the credit card slip. He’d left the portfolio open on the table and she glanced down to see a new photo there—one of a forest scene in middle of the day, light streaming through the heavy trees.
“I’m just going to finish my glass if that’s okay,” Allan said.
Hannah glanced up to see that the waiter had left and Allan was motioning for her to sit. She frowned. “I should really be going. I’ll just call a cab…”
Allan smiled warmly. “Don’t run out and leave me here drinking alone.” He motioned for her to sit again. “Please sit, just until I finish this glass. It’s expensive wine. Don’t want it to go to waste.”
Hannah hesitated, before eyeing the tall glass of water that now stood where her wine glass had been. Okay, water, she needed some of that. She pulled her chair out and sat.
Allan beamed at her and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm rushing through her once again. There was something about the man that was so disarming.
“That’s a beautiful picture.” She pointed to the forest scene, noting quite suddenly that there was an animal in the frame, just coming out of the bushes, a big, black… “Is that a wolf?” she gasped.
Allan nodded when she glanced up at him. “Yeah, it is.”
He motioned for her to turn to the next page. When she did, she gasped again. Another wolf, or maybe the same one, close up of its face, fangs bared, muzzle scrunched, fully engaged and ready to rip a chunk out of someone. “That is an amazing shot.” She leaned closer, noting the gorgeous blue eyes of the beast that sparked in a way that almost suggested thought, intelligence. “Weren’t you scared? To get that close, I mean?”
“Scared? Um, yeah, in a manner of speaking. One wrong move could be deadly.” When she looked up at him he was smiling again. “But no worries. I know how to handle myself around the beasts.”
“The beasts?” She giggled. “You make it sound like they’re monsters.”
Allan’s smile slipped from his lips, his eyes losing their playful sparkle. “They are monsters.” He pointed to the photo of the black wolf. “And your Mayhem is the worst of them all.”
Chapter Eighteen
They made it to Hannah’s apartment before ten that night and confirmed what Mayhem already knew, what his wolf had been growling from the second he’d heard that phone message. Hannah was gone. And his gut told him that the Hunters had found her.
They stood in her living room, her scent like an attack on Mayhem’s senses, making him crazed to find her. Mine.
“We need to go to Hannah’s work, track her from there.”
“No, man,” Raven was shaking his head. “We stay here until the rest of the pack arrives.”
Mayhem growled, his fangs dropping against his bottom lip. “I’m not waiting.”
“You’re not thinking,” Raven growled back. “Don’t make me kick your ass again!”
Mayhem launched, had Raven in a headlock, squeezing his neck between biceps and forearm within seconds. “Is this a joke to you?”
“No,” he choked, arms raised to show submission.
Mayhem released his throat grip to let some air in. “We track her from her work,” he growled again.
“She got into a truck, remember? That’s what her cousin said. You won’t be able to track her. We need Darcy.”
Mayhem processed the words. Fuck. He let Raven go, feeling like a total asshole for going after his pack brother yet again. “Sorry, man. It’s just…” He ran his hand through his hair, let out an explosion of breath.
Raven stood as he sucked in a deep lungful of air and let it seep back out slowly. “I understand.” He nudged Mayhem to sit down on the couch. “If it was Darcy out there, I’d be acting like a feral beast too.”
Mayhem rubbed his hand over his face, taking calming breaths to get his wolf under control. “Yeah, the wolf is clawing at me, pushing for an out.” He took two steps back and collapsed on the plush couch, sinking almost to the floor with his weight. “How much time do we have? Hours? What happens if he marks her first? Will she be lost to me?”
Raven shook his head, “I don’t know, May. Without your bite, it’s hard to say what kind of power they can get over her.”
Mayhem let out a low growl as he punched the arm of the couch, the crack of w
ood beneath his fist making him feel fractionally better. “I will kill every single one of them.”
A screech of tires had Raven moving to the sliding doors and peering out over the balcony. He bit out a curse. “We’ve got a problem, May.”
Mayhem sighed as he stood, knowing without looking what that problem was. “Paparazzi, right?”
Raven nodded as he walked back into the apartment, then shut and locked the door behind him. “Yep, at least ten, more probably on the way.”
“There’s a fire escape outside the bedroom window. We can get out that way if we’re quick.” He was in no mood to deal with the media. They’d have the place surrounded in no time, making it difficult to do any searching for Hannah without a camera clicking away.
Raven nodded. “Hang on a sec.” He moved into the kitchen and hunted through the cupboards for a minute before finding what he was looking for. He held up a plastic bag. “We need to gather some of Hannah’s personal stuff for Darcy, just in case she can work that tracking spell she mentioned.”
“Good idea.” Mayhem walked into Hannah’s bedroom and searched her dresser for something that would count as personal. There was a picture of her and Dani hugging. He snatched up the photo and held it out to Raven. “Will this work?”
Raven shrugged. “Fuck if I know.” He took it and shoved it into the bag. “I’ll go into the bathroom and grab her hairbrush.”
“Her hairbrush?” Mayhem said, eyebrows raised. “You think that’s what Darcy needs?”
Raven shrugged again. “Don’t know, but can’t hurt, right? It’s got DNA on it, doesn’t it? That’s what the cops use to find people.”
“I guess.” Mayhem turned to scan the dresser again, his gaze landing on a small jewelry box. Personal. Right. There had to be something personal in there. He picked up the box and slipped it into his jacket. “Rav, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Can I have your autograph, Mayhem?”
They were blocks away from Hannah’s place, walking briskly through the back alleys in an attempt to dodge the media. The voice came from behind, he barely halted, a fuck off lying heavy on his tongue.
“Looking for something? Or should I say…someone?” the same female voice asked, her tone mocking.
He spun on a growl, fists clenched, claws digging into his palms, fangs ready to pop. Raven tried to push him behind, an attempt to protect the alpha that only pissed Mayhem off more.
“What?” He roared as he took two steps toward the woman, her face partially hidden in the darkness of the alley.
“Mayhem!” Raven shouted.
She had a knife in her hand a second after that, a cocky grin on her face. “One more step, big guy, and this is going in you.”
Raven pulled him back, “Huntress,” he hissed in Mayhem’s ear.
“That’s right. I am.” She twirled the knife on her fingers, like she was playing a game, her smile telling him she had a thing or two to learn about respect.
He shook Raven’s hand off and launched himself, going low, swiping her legs out from under her. She hadn’t seen it coming but that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared. She went down and rolled, from ass to knees in a heartbeat, two blades, one at Mayhem’s throat, the other at his gut. Mayhem had his hand clasped around her small neck, claws pushing the flesh almost to the breaking point. Their eyes were locked, breaths coming out in hard pants, frozen in place.
“That was dumb,” she said with another smile. “One nick and you’re dead.”
Eventually, maybe…if he didn’t have Aubrey as a healer. Summer too. He pushed forward, allowing the blade at his throat to press deeper as he clenched her neck tighter, claws puncturing. “Not if I rip your goddamned head off first,” he growled. “Go ahead, do your worst.”
Eyes wide with shock, she stared him down, doing her best to breathe around his vise-like grip.
Something flickered in her eyes. Doubt? Uncertainty. Defeat? “I can help you find her,” she whispered, her cheeks flashing red. She lowered her blades, letting them clatter to the ground a second later. She raised her hands to show that she was unarmed.
With a frown, he released her. “Fuck you,” he spat as he pushed her back and stood, ready to walk away. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, had yet to meet a Huntress who backed down so easily. Not that he’d had a lot of experience with the deadly women. But still, weakness wasn’t their usual MO.
“I know who has her. I know where they have taken her. I know a way in.”
“Oh yeah?” Mayhem growled. “And why the fuck, Huntress, would you help me take my mate away from your people?”
“Because I need something from you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”
She rose slowly to her feet and moved toward him. “I can show you.”
“Show me what?”
She spun to face Raven, somehow sensing his subtle movements toward her. He had his claws bared, fangs glistening. He would have taken her head off if he’d had the chance. As soon as she locked eyes with Raven, the man stopped all movement, hands sliding to his sides, body relaxing.
Mayhem felt her power radiate out, restraining him like a barrier. He raised his hands, tried to push against it and couldn’t move an inch. “Raven!”
With pupils dilating, she held Raven in a trance, like a snake, her eyes enthralling. “Raven? Is that your name? You will do as I say, won’t you, sweetie?” Her voice was coaxing, making suggestions just with her tone.
Mayhem felt the power of her gift, persuasion that was nudging even his willpower.
“You’ll run your fingers through your hair, won’t you, Raven?”
And like a puppet on strings he did, damn her. Raven lifted his hand and ran his fingers through his short Mohawk, his eyes vacant, no thought happening there.
Mayhem watched with growing horror, not knowing how far-reaching this skill was, how much power she had to take over someone’s mind. He opened his mouth to say something, to demand she release Raven…and then he felt something else, her power waning, the strings snapping, the barrier dropping.
Raven shook his head and roared. “You fucking bitch!” He swiped at her, claws catching her cheek, tearing three deep scratches down.
She screamed, reeling back as blood flew from her face.
Mayhem held his hand up, halting Raven’s attack as he moved toward the Huntress, putting himself between the two of them.
She backed away from them both, blades in her hands once again, the angry welts still bleeding. “You killed my fucking mate, you asshole,” she snarled at Mayhem, her face a mask of anguish. “I should cut your motherfucking head off!”
He remembered her now—his wolf pushing through, showing him the memory of a hotel, of a dark haired Hunter standing guard. Of Dyami in pain, dying, his Huntress, Summer, inside the room, scared, battling for his life. And yes, Mayhem had taken that Hunter down. Ripped his throat out and swallowed the hot blood that sprayed into his mouth. He felt no remorse.
“What do you want?” Mayhem didn’t like negotiating, but there was something about this woman that made him pause. His wolf was wary, nudging him to listen. Just wait, it said.
She took in a few steadying breaths, raised her arm so that her bicep rubbed against her cheek, swiping some of the blood onto her shirt. “You have no idea what you’ve taken from me,” she hissed. “My mate, and now my powers.”
Mayhem shook his head. “I just felt your powers. You enthralled Raven with little effort.”
“You have no idea how powerful I was before you took him!” she whispered, her voice hoarse, cracking a little. “My powers are disappearing with each week, each day.” A few tears slipped down her face, mixing with the smeared blood.
Mayhem saw weakness in those tears but he didn’t feel sympathy. She would not beguile him. She was not a normal woman
. He knew she would kill him in a heartbeat if she could. It was in her nature. The question was, why didn’t she?
“What do you want from me?” he said.
“I need a wolf’s bite.”
Mayhem reeled back, the thought too repulsive to comprehend, his fangs bared as he growled. “Fuck that!”
“Not from you, asshole.” She barked a humorless laugh. “As if.”
“Okay.” Mayhem pulled his beast back. “From who then?”
“Every Huntress has a Hunter and a wolf, you know this right?” When Mayhem gave a tight nod, she continued. “I was marked by my Hunter when we bonded, but the bond isn’t permanent. It is a spell that’s bolstered repeatedly, by touch, close contact, intimacy…or at least that’s what we think.”
An exploitable weakness to The Order of the Wolf, a boon from this strange Huntress. If Mayhem wanted to attack the Order, he needed to go for the males rather than the deadly females. “So what you’re telling me is that your Hunter’s passing means you’re losing your powers?”
“My Hunter’s murder,” she hissed, eyes stabbing him with hatred. “And yes, that’s exactly what’s happening. The wolf’s bite is permanent. I need the bite of a wolf, my wolf, and I need you to help me find him.”
“I don’t have any contacts in the werewolf world,” Mayhem said with a shake of his head. “No pack politics for me, no ins, no…”
“I don’t need your contacts. I know where my beast is. I need an ambassador—a liaison, someone who speaks wolf—who can get me in without having my head ripped off. A bodyguard,” she hissed. “However you want to spin it, what I need is you.”
“And why would I do this?”
“Because if you do this for me, if you help me get my bite, I will take you to your mate and help you get her back.”
“And what’s to stop you from turning on us when you’ve gotten your powers back?” Raven said, arms crossed, not buying it even in the least.
She shot him a nasty look, her arm coming up reflexively to wipe at her cheek again. “Because I will vow it and unlike my Hunter brothers, a vow means something to me.” She turned to Mayhem. “If you help me get my powers back, I vow to help you get your mate, even if it means killing some Hunters. I vow it on my life and I vow it because there would be nothing more satisfying to me than to see the look on those bastards’ faces when I come back for them with a pack at my side.”
Mayhem: The Order of the Wolf, Book 5 Page 9
