Page 3 of Moonlight & Mayhem

“Like what?” he asked, playing dumb. He knew exactly how he looked at her, and stopping himself from doing it was going to be a problem.

“Like I matter to you.” The words were soft, but they hit harder than any blade. He went still as her scent shifted—fear beneath composure. He could tell that she wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of attachment and the loss that came with it. He knew that feeling well. Mayhem understood that fear better than anyone.

“Moonlight,” he said, voice dropping into something deeper. “You pulled silver out of my body. You fought death for me. That means something.” Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t answer him. The air between them thickened. It wasn’t lust, but something wilder mixed with recognition.

Outside the clinic room, distant voices echoed. Tempest’s sharp tone and Howler’s low growl came through the loudest. The war was already moving closer. Mayhem felt it in his bones. The Capitol Wolves made a mistake tonight. They hadn’t just ambushed the Silverfang Brotherhood. They had crossed over into Dark Chaos territory, and they’d nearly killed the wrong wolf.

His wolf settled down for the first time since he’d woken. Not because the danger was gone, but because she was there with him. Moon adjusted his IV and stepped back again, putting some space between them. “You’re not allowed to die,” she said softly. “Not after the work I just did.”

A rough chuckle escaped him, even though it hurt. “Guess I’ll have to stick around then.”

Her gaze held his for one long, charged second. “Good,” she whispered.

As she turned away to gather supplies, Mayhem let his head sink back into the pillow. Pain still burned through him, and the war still loomed heavily around them. The Capitol Wolves still prowled Baltimore like rabid beasts, but beneath it all, something had shifted. He hadn’t just survived tonight; he’d found the one thing more dangerous than any rival MC—a silver wolf with winter eyes. And if the bond forming between them was real? The Capitol Wolves had no idea what kind of mayhem they’d just unleashed.

Moon

Moon knew better than to let a patient get under her skin. She had spent years learning how to separate herself from the wolves who ended up on her table. She could care about them. Fight for them. Bleed for them if that was what it took to keep them alive. But she couldn't let herself feel too much because feelings made her hesitate. Feelings made her second-guess herself, and Mayhem was quickly becoming one giant feeling that she had no idea what to do with.

Moon stood at the sink in the corner of her clinic and scrubbed her hands harder than necessary. She could still feel his fingers wrapped around her wrist. She could still hear that low growl that had vibrated through his chest when his wolf recognized her. Mine. He hadn't needed to say the word out loud because her wolf had heard him anyway. Worse, she had answered.

Moon squeezed her eyes shut. "No," she whispered. Her wolf growled in protest. "Absolutely not,” Moon breathed. Her wolf growled again, and Moon sighed and shut off the water.

"You aren't helping," she whispered to her wolf, but her wolf didn't care. The silvery-white beast had been restless since Mayhem was carried through the clinic doors half-dead from silver poisoning. Now that he was stable, Moon's wolf should have settled. Instead, she paced back and forth, demanding that Moon return to his bedside.

Mayhem was the Silverfang Brotherhood's Vice President. He was dangerous, arrogant, loud, and entirely too handsome for his own good. He was also Howler's right hand, which meant he would always put his club first—just as Moon would always put Dark Chaos first.

She dried her hands and looked through the glass partition separating her office from the small trauma room. Mayhem was finally sleeping. His dark hair was messy against the pillow, and without the hard expression he usually wore, he looked younger, less dangerous, and almost peaceful—but Moon knew better because there was nothing peaceful about that man.

She had watched him during meetings between Silverfang and Dark Chaos. He rarely sat still. He prowled, he challenged, and he even smiled at inappropriate times, seeming to enjoy irritating everyone around him—including her. Especially her. Moon had convinced herself his attention meant nothing, but apparently, she had been wrong.

Her wolf pressed forward again, and Moon gripped the edge of the counter. "Stop." The command came out sharper than she intended. Mayhem shifted on the bed and Moon froze. His heart rate increased slightly on the monitor before settling again. She released the breath she'd been holding.

"Talking to yourself now?" Tempest's voice made Moon jump. She spun around to find her Prez standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and an amused expression on her face.

"Damn it, Tempest,” Moon growled.

"Sorry,” her Prez said with a shrug.

"No, you're not,” Moon said.

"No." Tempest smiled. "I'm really not."

Moon glanced toward Mayhem again. "Keep your voice down; you’ll wake him.”

Tempest's smile widened, and Moon narrowed her eyes. "Why are you smiling at me?"

"Nothing,” Tempest said.

"You're doing that thing again,” Moon said.

"What thing?" Tempest asked.

"Where you look at me like you know something I don't,” Moon grumbled.

Tempest stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her. "How's he doing?" she asked, changing the subject. The teasing disappeared instantly, but that was the way that Tempest worked. She might be Moon's closest friend, but she was also the President of Dark Chaos MC, and when it came to protecting their people and their allies, she took nothing lightly.

"Better," Moon said. "His vitals are stable. I got most of the silver out, and his wolf is starting to heal the internal damage."