Mayhem: The Order of the Wolf, Book 5 by Angela Addams

Hannah glanced over at Dani, whose eyes were nearly bugging out of her head.
    “Satisfactory,” Smith said as he moved farther into the room. He perched himself on the window ledge, one leg propped slightly. He was attractive, that was for damn sure. Every woman in the room kept sneaking glances in his direction, Hannah included.
    “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Burt barked as he finally seated himself, tapping impatiently on his tablet. “Roll call, what’s on the roster?”
    And so it went for an hour. Hannah was bored to tears—that was, until it came time for talk of Riot and plans for the series. She panicked, her throat totally seizing. Luckily Dani knew her stuff and rattled off her ideas for how the articles were going to run.
    “Sounds like you’ve got this well thought out, Dani,” Burt grumbled. “We’ll get an insider’s perspective of the life of Mayhem and Riot. Centerfold spread every two months.”
    “And that’s where I come in,” Smith said as he stood. “Allan Smith, photographer. I’ll be documenting the series with pictures.”
    Huh? Hannah frowned. Mayhem hadn’t said anything about a photographer.
    Allan walked over to their side of the table, hand outstretched. “Hannah Lane, I presume.”
    Hannah nodded, too dumbfounded to actually stand. She clasped hands with the man, marveling at how large it was compared to hers. His forearm was huge, reminding her of Mayhem’s, except for the most striking wolf tattoo she’d ever seen. Celtic, black, but detailed too. The wolf baring fangs, fierce, deadly. It practically jumped off of his arm.
    “Nice ink,” Dani cooed as she leaned forward, almost on top of Hannah as she inspected Allan’s arm.
    “Thanks,” he said. “It’s the insignia of my people.”
    Hannah felt a snap of familiarity. “Your people?”
    Allan smiled as she looked up at to meet his gaze. “Yes, a group known as the Order of the Wolf.”

Chapter Sixteen
    Mayhem’s shift from beast to man came as the sun sank beneath the horizon, its rays still blasting what they could, lighting the sky with vivid shades of oranges, reds and yellows. A slow, lingering death of the day, nevertheless, occurred when the fiery globe dropped. Mayhem instantaneously shifted from his wolf to human, a transformation that bought both pleasure and pain. Ripping, breaking, tearing, while at the same time mending, melding, making right, and all in a matter of seconds.
    The first thing he did as a human was check his phone. One message from Hannah. Good.
    She would be on the plane at this point, more than halfway through the flight. Dave had instructions to pick her up and bring her to the mansion, but that wouldn’t be for a while. Mayhem was itching to talk to her. He didn’t like the physical distance, let alone to have her out of communication completely for a few more hours. His wolf was agitated too, pacing restlessly though Mayhem’s thoughts.
    It was necessary, though. He needed time to plan the perfect way to show her his wolf. He and the Huntresses were trying to figure things out, set up a scenario that wouldn’t have Hannah running and screaming in the other direction.
    He hit the message icon.
    “Hey, Mayhem, just calling to let you know that I’m heading home shortly to finish packing.” Her voice sounded a little strange, thicker, but Mayhem figured it must have been a bad connection. “Got the article edited and submitted. Burt seemed happy, kind of.” She chuckled softly. “I guess I’ll be seeing you soon so I’ll keep this short.” There was a brief pause and she cleared her throat. “Oh…and I met the photographer. You didn’t mention anything about him. Anyway, nice guy…”
    Mayhem growled, a deep rumble in his chest, his hand clenching the phone. What photographer?
    He cursed when he realized he’d missed what she said next, only hearing her last words: “I’m sure you two will get along. See you soon. Bye.”
    He hit the back button,