When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

JAX

My Ninja rumbles to a stop and I cut the engine, hopping off and pushing my bike up the gravel driveway. It was tricky trying to find her house. It’s not on her license, or under her name, or even her family’s name for that matter.

It’s under an alias.

I only found it by hacking into her phone and installing a tracker. You can find anyone’s number. They’re not a damn secret unless you make it one.The lanterns overhead break apart the night, lighting my way and inviting me to get closer to the siren that’s calling.

I roll my bike about halfway up, pushing it off into a clearing that would fit my car perfectly.I kick out the kickstand and rip my helmet off, taking in a big breath of the sweet scent that somehow travels all the way down here and overpowers th e? herb y? scent from the trees.

I toss it down to the grass and spark up a cigarette, then take off my backpack and open it up, fetching out my little wolf’s gift.

The cherry blazes in my face as I toss my backpack down next to my helmet, and I finish walking my ass through the gravel. We both live in the middle of nowhere, but there’s a sense of home that domes around her property, settling calmly within me.

It’s possibly just her that I’m feeling.

I approach the rustic mountain home, eyeing the stonework and the wooden beams framing the floor-to-ceiling windows—that I can see right into. The sheer curtains draped over them do nothing to hide the dark, eclectic clutter within.

I smile a little. I’m curious to know how many lamps she has inside. They all seem to be on downstairs, lighting her home up in the swallow-ing night.

I walk up to her black porch, letting the full smile out as I take in the fur blankets on her outdoor furniture and the cheetah print doormat. I knock three times, still craning my neck around to look at the little strung up lights and lanterns.

I turn around and set the bag down closer to the stairs, taking my time going down them. I want her to open the door and see me. But I make it to the shadows of the woods and lean back against a tree, taking a drag of chemicals, before she slowly cracks it open.

My blood pressure spikes, and my exhale gets trapped in my frozen lungs, tunneling in the goddess’ raven silk tousling around her curves. “Fuck. Me,” I whisper, stunned over this girl’s body.

She folds her arms and walks carefully across her porch, kicking the bag and letting out a yelp as she skitters backwards. I huff in amusement, taking a drag with a smile.

It takes her a moment to study it, but she finally squats down and picks it up. I wonder if she feels me watching her. Maybe that’s why she’s swaying her hips closer, looking out into the night. She spins around, and tingles zip down my abdomen and flood my dick.

Her cheetah print panties are struggling to contain her ass.

The door slams. And the curious Devil moves me out of the trees, closer to the window in front of her stairs.I can’t see much other than her tattooed hands prying the bag open and lifting out the jar.

I don’t want to get too close and scare her.

I also don’t want to leave. I want to go in, feel her silk run through my fingers and smell the concoction that formulates her creamy skin… Be able to see her magical eyes and pouty lips up close.

Pull yoursel f? to-fuckin-gether.

I watch her rip my note off, then force myself to walk the hell away.

I hope she likes it. I want her to find peace with his death.

“What do you need all of this for, man?” Leon asks cautiously.

Out of the seven years I’ve known him, I can only recall one time he’s let his nosiness do the talking. Can’t say I’m a fan of it. But I guess it’s understandable since I asked him for hidden cameras. I didn’t think he’d bring a whole box of them though.

“Well, I’m not infiltrating the goddamn government. I just need a few. I’m keeping tabs on a… little wolf.”

His brown eyes return to their thin state, and he stares at me for a beat, processing the cryptic message. A disapproving head shake tells me he finally caught on, and he sets the box down on the kitchen island.

“Just don’t get weird. I’m not capable of fighting you. You’d rip my arms off. That’s why I have desk duty while you go out and be a? badass.” He sighs as if it’s shameful.

Leon’s my tech man. Met him back when I was majoring in computer science, and he asked what the scar was on my throat. No one actually had the balls to ask me before I covered it with ink. So, it sparked some respect for him, and I told him. We’ve been working together ever since.

“Hm,” I growl with an amused grin. “You’re concerned about me being weird, yet you’re the one that had a surplus of these on hand.”

“That’s fair,” he nods. “I n? m y? defense, I’m developing spyware for Viper’s uncle in Russia. You’re actually doing me a favor by using them. I need to make sure the feed stays clear, audio is crisp, and the zoom mechanism doesn’t fail. That’d be a quick way to lose my head.” His lips thin, realizing the sketchy territory he entered.

Helping myself, I take out ten cameras that are smaller than the pad of my thumb and drop them in the pocket of my jeans.

She’ll never find them. And that makes me want to smile.

I don’t, though. Leon’s about to piss his pants because he joined a shit fest without thinking it through. He’s staring at the box, one hand curled over his mouth and chin in thought, the other tapping annoyingly against the concret e? countertop.

“Don’t sweat it, man, I’ll let you know how they perform. Worst case scenario, I’ve got some contacts there that are sitting on an IOU.”

My name’s gotten around a bit from the hits I do for Maverick and Viper often makes trips there for family.

I’ve been called on twice to take out a rapist and a wife beater. I had a lot of fun making those sick fucks cry. Since I have no reason to walk around with Russian rubles, I put them on an IOU. Doesn’t matter what it is, they’ll do it or have someone else do it.

While running his hands through his buzz cut, a smile creeps up. “Good day to know a hit man,” he says mutely.

Due to my eagerness to watch Tala, I grab the small WiFi box off the counter, shoving it into my hoodie pocket. “Remember that the next time you try giving me shit for it,” I say gruffly.

“Come on, man. You know I’m just jealous over how sick you are.”

I’m no longer entertaining that.

I catch a glimpse of his big ass smile while turning around and heading for the door. Sirohi walks by my side, wanting to go with me. But he’s still learning stealthy steps and I don’t know how light she sleeps. I’m already pushing my luck by going in while she’s home.

I don’t know what it is. Every time I think about her my stomach jumps off a cliff and submerges my veins in raging waters that’s full of live wires.

It’s addicting.

She’ s? addicting.

I haul ass out of my house and over to the shop, throwing myself on my bike and taking off. It’s late, so people aren’t out and in my damn way tonight.

I’m able to get to her house and pick the lock in eight minutes.

Her house smells like maple syrup and vanilla. It makes me think of a good ass breakfast on a Sunday morning.

It’s comfortable and eclectic, with the right amount of openness to keep it from being too closed in. The darkness swallows the black walls, the moonlight filtering in bringing a chilling glow over the animal skulls, ornate mirrors and frames, and the abundance of dead flowers. There’s fur and animal print in every direction, with gem tones scattered in the bunch. I’ve counted six lamps so far. I haven’t even made it upstairs yet.

She’s eccentric. A fucking masterpiece walking in flesh.

Taking the stairs, I shake my head with an amused smile. She has a zebra print runner that runs all the way to the top floor and an eerie ornate mirror gallery wall that goes to the ceiling.

How the hell did her five-foot-five ass get up there? Even a ladder wouldn’t suffice. She had to have had help. And that makes my smile fall cold, irritation sizzling under my skin.

I’ll take them all down and put them right back up, just to be able to say I did it. Unless it’s her father or grandfather, I want to replace every memory she has with another man.

Shaking my aggravation off like a wet dog, I round the banister with silent steps, looking in the first room to my left. It’s a home office with the biggest goddamn fuzzy chair behind the desk.

She must look tiny in it.

The cheetah print case on her laptop is giving me a beckoning call. I try to fight the urge, but the Devil moves my feet for me. Already knowing she’d lose her shit if her fur rug got matted, I tread carefully over it and flip open her laptop.

The bright screen fucks my eyes for a second. I blink to adjust them, then quickly grin at the picture of young her with a black wolf.

So fucking magical.

It takes me two seconds to hack into it.

About to start my usual perusal of invasive exploring, a file name d? Autobiograph y ? catches my attention. I slide my finger over the touch pad and double click on it, watching it pull up exactly what I want to know.

Everything.

Every day I got off the bus in elementary school, I would rush into the house to set my bag down and grab my box of coloring supplies. With my box in hand, I would run out the back door and Maiko would be waiting for me on the stone path that runs through the woods and leads to the sanctuary. He would walk on my left side the entire way and lay down next to me as I colored in the grass.

My interests and activities were always changing, but we always laid in our spot under a large western hemlock after school. But as I got older, so did he.

His black coat turned mostly gray, and he got a lot slower. I was twenty and still living at home because I didn’t want to miss any final days with him.

I knew it was coming. We all did.

One day, th e? birds were chirping, and the spring air was blowing through the fireweed. I was lying next to him while reading my book—and he passed away in his sleep, in the spot where we hung out every day for fifteen years.

I’ve never had a connection quite like that with any of the other wolves. I still really enjoy them, but losing Maiko killed a piece of me.

Oh, baby girl.

If I wasn’t itching to see her, I’d sit my ass down and read everything she has written so far. She’s incredibly fascinating.

Digging another camera out of my pocket, I reach up and tuck it neatly into a vase of fuzzy things on the top of her bookshelf. They shed from touch and have seeds, meaning they’re real. I just don’t know what the hell they are.

I exit out of the file, turn her laptop off, and softly close it. Stealthily stalking down the hall, my heart begins racing. It’s beating so loud I grow self-conscious thinking she can somehow hear it.

Her bedroom door is open, giving me a view of the end of her bed and the giant mirror in the corner. The more steps I take, the more I see the black polish on her pretty toes and the smooth skin of her bare leg.

I peek around the doorframe to make sure she’s still asleep—and bite my knuckle so I don’t let out a loud ass groan.

God, she’s so ethereal.

Like the siren she is, half of her body is elegantly draped over a fuzzy pillow. The moonlight is kissing her creamy skin, highlighting the stripes that flow with the curvature of her feminine vessel and the stars an d? florals tattooed on her hand.

I get closer, noting the way her rosy lips slightly part as she sleeps, and the way her long, dark lashes fan against her cheeks. She has a few unintentionally perfect dark freckles on her face. Other than that, her skin is smooth and clear. Her raven hair is loosely tucked behind the celestial piercings that heavily design her ear, and the tiniest silver hoop hugs her septum.

I’d like to continue mapping her out. But she’s naked.

Ever so gently and quietly, I pull the cheetah print blanket over her. A hum filters past her lips, turning me to stone. Half from how cute it was, half from concern that she might wake up to me looming over her.

She pulls the pillow in tighter, like her body desires another to mold against. Her bed is giant, offering me an inviting spot in the mounds of fur and animal print. Though, I’d much prefer the invite to come from her.That shit would swell my heart, possibly put my ass in the hospital.

My hand gravitates to her head as if it’s destined to brush through her silky locks. I catch it, reeling it in with a clenched fist.

I almost just slipped up.

Needing distance, I back away and walk around her bed with her bookshelf in target. It’s packed with books, leaving not a single spot to be filled.

I wonder if she’s read all of them. Or if she buys several at once with the hope of getting to them all.

There’s a black cover sticking out slightly more than the rest. I carefully slide it out, making sure the surrounding books don’t fold in on each other, and take a seat in the fur lounge chair in the corner next to the bookshelf.

A thin chain with a crescent moon marks her spot. Keeping it placed in the spine, I skim over the first page, and a smirk pulls at my lips.

She’s reading twisted ass porn.

I’m intrigued.

I want to take my time with her. But there’s a desire of wishing she was already comfortable with me. I would get under the blanket, slide my hands up her legs, and part them enough to get my head within them. My tongue would show her how she deserves to be treated.

The mental image thins the cord I’ve been holding on to. I close her book, put it back, and get my ass out of the siren’s room.

And I leave.

Fuck, I don’t want to. I want to go back in there and watch her until the sun spears in through her window, admire the golden hue as it embraces her delicate skin.

But I don’t trust myself with how close I am to breaking.