When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER SIX

JAX

Wiping the crimson from my knuckles, I spare a glance at the idiot that just died from a powerhouse to the heart.

He was down here showing off the video he took of boiling his dog alive for not winning a fight. I wanted to return the same barbaric treatment. But my limited patience is simmering my blood and pumping my muscles.

Therefore, his cause of death was a ruthless strike to the sternum.

It’s been three weeks since I laid eyes upon the succubus. I watch her. I? alway s ? watch her.

But after finding out she lost her grandparents I decided to hold off on the intrusive measures.

I’m getting a little testy.

The last time I saw her in the flesh was when I sent Sirohi up to her house with the dead roses. God, that shit put a big smile on my face.

Seeing her crouch down and love on my boy only dug her black claws further into me.I need her.

I toss the rag over to the sink and haul the burly man up from the chair. I go through my chop up routine, dissociating from the gory sight and seeing flashes of the way she’d look getting on top of me, the way her silky hair would curtain around her arms and brush my chest.

“Phew.” I shake the image from my head, tossing the last foot into the meat bag.

Can’t say I’ve ever hauled a chopped-up body off with a raging hard-on before. It’s painfully rubbing against my zipper as I pass the cleaning crew on the way out.

They’re all still too nervous to make eye contact with me. They keep their eyes diverted to the ground, rushing in to clean the liquids up.

This guy needed two bags. I haul them through the tunnels and up the metal stairs, keeping tight to the walls to avoid anyone touching me.

Even the slightest bump will stick a hot poker into a scar.

I make it through the exit door in the very back without losing my cool and toss the dude’s parts into my awaiting trunk.

Desperate to check in on Tala, I reach into my pocket for my phone while slamming the trunk. I tap m y? passcod e? in and pull up the feeds of her house. Like she has been for three weeks, she’s bundled up in the fur on her bed.

She hasn’t really been doing much. Nadia, Maverick, and her parents have been stopping in to check on her, and she went to her grandparents’ funeral. But other than that, my girl’s been letting the river of grief pull her under.I wish I could hold her, let her listen to the heart that beats for her. Maybe the rhythm would give her comfort.

I can’t touch her. But I need to see her.

I just need to get rid of this guy first.

The blue hues beam in from the large window, washing over her eclectic room. I get this feeling that she intentionally has her bed stationed across from the window for the magic that rains down on her sleeping body.

She is bewitching. I’m captivated by every hum she makes, the way she rolls her hips to bring her large pillow closer into her, and the way her hair spreads out over her bed—enticing me to finally touch it.

I lock my fingers behind my head, and rest back into the chair.

Watching her.

This craving I have for her is irrepressible. It’s a hunger that’ll never be satiated. An addiction that has me fiending and chasing the dragon.

I honestly don’t know what I’m doing.

All I know is that new stars formed when I looked into her eyes of Venus. They twinkle to the rhythm of our hearts, burning brighter with each passing day, waiting to collide into a galaxy.

I look around her room, admiring how unique she is. I cling to the lace sticking out of the top left drawer of her dresser. I don’t hear the Angel. It’s hard to. The Devil speaks louder and is beginning to overtake my body.

I tilt my head, grabbing the knob and watching her in the mirror before me. The drawer’s heavy. It moans a little when opening. But not loud enough to alert her of the fucking panty snatcher or some shit.

The black lace runs smoothly within my fingers, looking a little too perfect in my hand. I hold on to it, snooping around her bras, thongs, and a boy short cut that definitely doesn’t harbor her ass.

I bite my lip, stifling a groan that’s been brewing from my longing for her.It’s not just physical. I want her mind, body, and soul.

I’ll have it. One day.

Preferably soon, before I snap and fucking kidnap her.

Catching movement in the mirror, I halt my exploration of black and cheetah print, watching the way she lazily rips her shirt off and chucks it to the end of her bed.

I didn’t mean to see it. I’ve been doing rather well at giving her privacy when she undresses.It’s hard to fucking miss the metal shining in the moonlight, hugging the rosiest nipples.

Fuckin’ hell.

She is divine. Her tits are full and perky, sitting nicely on the outside of a dagger tattooed on her sternum.

I swallow roughly, silently closing the drawer as she curls back into the pillow that should be me.

I guess I’m taking the black lace with me. I’m shoving it into my pocket and turning around to the silvery stripes stretching along her hip and bent up thigh.

Sirohi’s beady eyes are glued to her from the threshold. I know he’s wishing she was awake and scratching over his back with her sharp nails.

Me too, boy.

I don’t know how I missed the paper sitting on her nightstand when I came in. My brows furrow and I stealthily step over to it, pick it up, and become equally confused as I am annoyed.

Who the fuck is Pyro, baby?

I clench my teeth, shunning the vexation rumbling in my chest, and reach into my pocket, pulling out a silver chain and replacing her note with it.I’ll take this shit with me and figure it out. All she has written on it is “Pyro.”

Pyro. Pyromaniac…

I give her another once over, pulling her blanket back up.

My hungry eyes wander a little too far, and I spot the scars of a flame on her inner left thigh.

I haven’t seen her do that. I’d barrel in through the door and risk scaring the fuck out of her before letting her hurt herself. The scars are freshly healed over, so it had to have happened a few weeks ago.

I’ll kiss them when she allows me to.