When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

TALA

It’s the first weekend of October. And the first weekend of every October, Maverick has his fall festival Harvest & Horror s? opened in Night Fall Park.

I wake up with an extra ray of sunshine lighting my way through the darkness. I love October. I love the crispier chill that runs through the air, the pops of orange and the sugary scents that waft from the bakeries on the strip. Most importantly, I love Halloween.

I roll my naked ass over to my nightstand, patting around for my phone. My heart lodges in my throat, seeing a silver chain where I once had a note.

That’s not my necklace.

Panic blooms up my stomach and bursts under my chest, igniting heat to scorch my cheeks and the tips of my ears.

I unfreeze, scurrying the fuck out of bed, and pick the chain up, dangling it in between two fingers while observing the dog tag.

It rotates around to the engraving on one side. “Little wolf,” I murmur, swallowing the word down as if it will erase it.

Now the asshole’s breaking in and coming into my bedroom when I’m asleep.

That pesky thrum of curiosity and adrenaline radiates in between my thighs. I shake my head in disbelief with myself and drop the dog tag back in the spot it was left.I have stuff to do today. I cannot sit around and fantasize about my goddamn stalker.

I strip my thong off and take a shower, unable to wash away the obsessive thoughts and questions. Like, what was he doing? My vagina feels fine, and my skin isn’t marked up. Was he just sitting there, or did he drop it off and leave?

Wrapping my towel around my body, I walk back into my bedroom and target the chair next to my bookshelf. “You’re looking suspicious,” I hum.

I approach it, inspecting the cream fur and bending over to look for anything stained or dropped.

All I get is the most intoxicating scent to waft warmly up my nose. It’s dark spices with a light sweetness hidden in the notes. I’m not sure why it gives me butterflies. The thought of a man sitting in this chair and watching me sleep is horrifying.

Yet—my inner thighs grow slick.Because I am a dumbass.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, Mom?” I ask, raising the straw to my mouth.

Our favorite coffee shop just launched their fall menu, so Nads and I brought Mom a pumpkin cream cheese bagel and a maple pecan cold brew. It’s too fancy for Dad. So, we just grabbed him a black coffee and a breakfast sandwich so that he didn’t feel left out.

Mom wipes her mouth, swallowing down the last bite. “It’s okay, honey. Let Maverick know we’re proud of him. Dad and I have pups to go pick up in Fairbanks.”

The sweet and rich buttery flavor lingers on my taste buds. I lean up from my numb arm and sit crisscross on the plaid blanket. “Do you want me to stay and watch the wolves?”

“No!” Nadia squawks, shuffling in on her knees with a muffin in hand. “Sorry. But no. You wait for this all year. The wolves will be fine without your claws ready to attack a lone fox.”

Mom nods in agreement. “She’s right. The wolves are capable of ripping limbs off. Go have fun, Tala. You need it.”

Valk o? wanders over to our little picnic, being unusual and plopping down next to me withou t? slaughterou s? intent. I reach out and scratch his head, taking another sip of the bean water that tastes like fall.

“Has dad said anymore about asking Maverick for help with getting cameras installed?” I ask.

“Uh-uh. He’s too humble to ask for help.” Mom looks around, eyes softening with adoration as they land on him walking through the gravel towards us with Echo at his side. “Plus, he hasn’t been in the mood for conversation. He won’t admit it, but losing Ruby and Blade has been hard on him.”

I know he won’t. Dad’s always the rock for everyone. He builds a dam with bleeding hands, just so you don’t get swept under and drown.

“Damascus, you are looking finer than ever,” Nadia says impishly. Knowing exactly how to turn a mood around.

A shit eating grin lights his face up, and he runs a hand through his overgrown, black hair. Mom bumps her brows at him, stretching her neck to meet his lips and kissing him for a little longer than I’d like to witness.

“Alright,” I draw out impassively, rufflin g? Valko’ s? head and standing up. “We’re gonna go walk aroun d? Harvest & Horrors until the masked men come out to play. Call me if you need me.”

Mom’s lips smack as she tears away from Dad. “Oh, honey! If you remember, will you grab us some pumpkins?”

“Yeah-yeah, for the wolves.”

She makes liver and pumpkin treats for them.

It’s disgusting.

Funnel cake and apple cider drift through the breeze, weaving into the fake fog pouring from every direction.

It’s still harvest time, so there are children running around with little pumpkins and crafts they’ve made.

A little boy with a missing front tooth stops in front of me, holding up the pumpkin he decorated to look like a monster. “Roar!”

I hold claw hands up at him, reciprocating the energy his mom isn’t giving him. She’s on the phone and smoking a cigarette. Not paying any mind to her child approaching a stranger.

His head falls back on a bubbly laugh, and he skitters off to the old couple sitting on a bench next to the Photo Booth.

I watch him with an entertained smile, laughing at the snarl on Nadia’s face. It’s not directed at the kid. She’s two seconds away from popping her top on the clueless mom.

The kid gets a laugh from the old couple, then skips back to her. I kind of feel bad for not playing with him more. But I have no idea who the little crotch goblin is.

Nads and I continue our leisure walk through the strip of food stalls, inhaling all the greasy and sweet scents that make my stomach growl.

My forehead is itching something fucking fierce. I lift my beanie up and scratch it, stopping in front of Battered and Fried.

“Tala, Nadia,” Ernie croons, sticking his vibrant smile out the window. “I can only assume you’re here for the frie d? Oreos.”

I cover my forehead back up, getting close enough to lean in and take a whiff of the powdered sugar and batter. “Yes, sir,” I smile.

Ernie knows Nads and I by now. We stop at his trailer several times each night we come.

“Comin’ right up ladies,” he says ardently, and turns his back to us to make fresh ones.

Nadia’s fingers lace with mine. “You need to ride something other than just the rides tonight. You’re about to turn twenty-four and you’ve only experienced wack ass sex with four people. ”?

I deadpan at her as she scans the area .?

“Oh! What about him?” She points somewhere behind me.

I check over my shoulder, immediately rolling my eyes and snapping my head back to her. “I’m not fucking Blaze Hendrix, Nadia.”

“Why? He’s ho t? an d? tall.”

Because I’ve already witnessed Satan. Everyone’s bleak in comparison.

“Here you go, ladies,” Ernie smiles, sticking the paper boats full of frie d? Oreo s? out the window. I reach back for my card, wedging my fingers in the tight pocket of my skinny jeans.

“Oh, no,” he refuses with a stern head shake. “These are on me.”

“I won’t refuse free snacks,” Nadia says gleefully, hastily dropping my hand and taking the boats from him.

Embers begin burning through my tight clothes and searing my skin. “Thank you, Ernie. We’ll help you clean up tonight,” I say, distractedly scanning the faces around me.

“No worries, baby,” Ernie hums. “Just come back and get the leftovers so I don’t throw them out.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Nadia chimes.

We wave bye to Ernie, walking towards the hay maze and pumpkin patch.“Oh, my God, it’s Paxton!” Nadia points towards the pumpkin patch entrance. “Paxton!”

I giggle, watching his glossy, steel eyes slowly investigate what’s most likely giving him paranoia.

Paxton Levine. He’s been friends with Nadia and I since kindergarten. He’d much rather paint and tattoo, than socialize with humans. So, it’s interesting seeing him here.

I’m not sure he realizes he’s here though.

He’s always higher than a kite.

She passes a boat of fried Oreos to me, galloping towards him and leaving me to deal with Beelzebub’s flies buzzing under my skin.

Surely ,? he’ s? not here… Right?

I stop next t o? Paxton’ s? raspy voice and menthol cigarette, stretching an arm around him and giving him a side hug. “Hey, Kira-Kira,” he rasps, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been working on your back piece for your birthday.”

Paxton wasn’t able to say my name in kindergarten. So, I becam e? “Kira-Kira ”? to him and the nickname stuck.

I draw back, grabbing a powdery ball of sweetness. “Thank you. Have you finished your sculpture for th e? Haunted Gala of Arts ?”

The orange lanterns strung overhead flick on in unison, indicating the harvest is over. Now, the horrors begin.

And the heady feeling returns heavily.

“I have,” he says modestly. “She’s just waiting to be wheeled into the castle. Let me know i f? Maiko’ s? statue needs to be filled. I’m gonna get out of here before I star t? trippin’ out.”

Nadia’s throaty laugh ruptures out and I almost fucking choke on the fried Oreo. Waving bye to Paxton as he wanders off, I work my jaws quicker in hopes that whoever is staring at me doesn’t see me die from inhaling sugar.

The revving chainsaws spark a symphony of screams. Masked actors are running out in every direction, scaring off the little kids and making sparks fly off the pavement.

Through the chaos—all I can feel are the eyes of a hungry wolf.

“Okay, let’s get drinks really fast and then we’re meeting Mav at the hay maze,” Nadia says excitedly.

I nod, too caught up in trying to find my stalker to say anything.

We wander back down the strip and chow down on our Oreos. Nightfall is eating away the daylight, leaving only the bands of orange and sporadic neon glows to break apart the darkness.

A clown sprints out in front of us, honking his red nose and swinging a machete around. Nadia screams at the top of her lungs and launches herself on to my back. Not only are my knees buckling from the added weight, but I might piss myself from laughing so hard.

I can’t even hear what the clown is saying. Nadia’s acting like she’s being slashed alive and it’s splitting my ears.

Through waving and thinning vision, I stumble around the shouting clown, grasping under Nadia’s tense ass and hauling her along. My winged eyeliner is most likely running down my cheeks from the tears o f? laughter. “I-I need to put you down before I roll my ankles,” I titter.

She’s breathing loudly in my ear and her arms are on the cusp of choking me out.

“I might’ve peed back there,” she pants.

I whirl around to look at the spot we were in, not seeing a puddle of piss, just her littered garbage that I’ll pick up when we pass back through. “Nope, you’re good.” I stop in the middle of the walkway, patting her ass to get her off me.

“Ugh, fine,” she growls, jumping down and skipping off.

We pass the bonfire that has people scattered around it and drinking from plastic cups. Several are already stumbling around and tripping over hay bales.

I don’t know how no one has fallen in the fire over the span of four years. They get wild as hell.

Blatantly ignoring Blaze’s light green eyes boring into me from across the fire, I hustle towards the bar canopy. After standing in line for a few minutes, we get our drinks and wander back to the pumpkin patch.

I’m feeling extra tingly from sipping pineapple juice and vodka during our venture back.

“Maverick,” I cheer quietly, happy as fuck to see him waiting for us outside the maze entrance.

He laughs and rips his hands out of his jeans, wrapping his strong arms around me. “Already drunk, killer?”

“Yes,” Nadia chirps, snatching my drink from me. “Our girl can’t keep up with me anymore.”

“Hey!” I turn my face from Maverick’s hoodie, glaring at Nadia with heavy lids.

She guzzles the rest of my drink, then stacks the empty cups together with a sigh of contentment. Her hazel eyes double back to me, her lips pursing. “You better hide those weapons. I’ll kiss you and then Maverick here will be left out.”

My face is burning and turning numb. It doesn’t help that Maverick is still holding me in his heat.

I don’t like the butterflies I’m getting from his hands sliding down my back. I tear away from him, stumbling over my own feet and falling to my ass.

“Goddamn it,” he chortles, bending over me.

His chain dangles out from his hoodie—and the alcohol begins making me see his pretty features in a new light.

Scared I’m going to kiss him, or something stupid like that, I let him help my dumbass up, then scurry around the sex exuding from him and into the maze.

Good job. You handled that well.

I whine, running into the eerie music and fog. Chainsaws rev and screams pour from every direction, frantic bodies skittering disorderly. I don’t know why I thought this would be better than making a fool out of myself. I can barely see through the dense fog and the hay towers well above my eye-line.

I run past a masked man chasing a group of girls and spot a vacant hay tunnel. Pounding over the loose hay to get to it, I run in, throwing my back against the wall, trying to blink the haze from my eyes.

The large shadow forming in front of the way I came in is extremely concerning. I roll my glossed lips, searching for a way out of the fiery tingles popping over my skin as he stalks closer.

My heart thumps like a scared rabbit, and I push through the liquid that’s turning my muscles to mush, Chucks skating over the hay as I dash for the other side.

A large hand slides around my waist, and I yelp, getting pulled back and pushed into the wall. The hay penetrates my sizzling skin through my shirt. But it’s less invasive than the feelings circulating from the large hands grabbing my hips and the dangerously tall man towering over me.

He bends down into a band of light, and I fix my lazy focus on the blac k? on i? mask covering his face. “I don’t think you’re supposed to touch me,” I waver, digging my nails into my palms.

“Hmm,” he growls. “You’re right, little wolf. I’m not.”

It’s hard to focus on the fact that this is my stalker when his voice was crafted in the pits of Hell.

It’s so deep it rumbles, yet it’s smooth with a? sligh t? Southern drawl. It intertwines with his scent of dark spices, concocting unholy desire.

He’s whiskey.

And whiskey always makes me take my pants off.

The liquid courage has my hands reaching up to his mask, my forefingers siding under it. “You see me all the time, but I don’t see you,” I whisper, feeling his soft facial hair on my skin, inching the plastic up.

His full, defined lips entice me to lick my own. He smiles sharply. And of course, his straight, white teeth wouldn’t be alluring enough. He just had to be given prominent canines that rattle my brain with curiosity.

“Do you like what you see, baby?” he asks smoothly.

He inches his body closer into the second fucking heartbeat I’ve gained, and the vodka manipulates my tongue. “I’m not impressed… Yet.”

He drops his face lower, forcing my arms to bend in. I try to draw back. But the more I do, the more the hay pokes through my beanie and into my skull. His warm, tobacco breath fans over my lips, and I swea r? nitrou s? oxide is laced in it. My head becomes too heavy, too hazy, and I fear I’m about to lose the little control I have right now .?

“Take it off. If the saddle doesn’t impress you, I’m sure the ride will, Tala,” he finishes with a dropped octave.

He’s calling my fucking bluff.

He draws back a bit, and I slide the mask up, each inch widening my eyes even more.

Nope. You’ll end up as Satan’s dinner.

His hunter eyes are ensnared to mine. Starvation sharpening them, making his sultry scowl impossible to refuse.

He’s the physical embodiment of a kinky, wet dream.

A wet dream I cannot entertai n? o r? fantasize about.

The mask falls over the back of his head—and shock paralyzes me. “You killed Liam, brought me flowers, left the dog tag?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, tunneling in on my lips.

Oh, my fucking God. Ma’am?

His hands firmly explore over my hips and up my sides. My nipples tighten painfully around the metal barbels in them, and the flaming butterflies flutter up an airy whine that lands on his mouth. “I have to go,” I rush.

His inferno retracts from me, leaving me with the ghost of his hands. It plagues my body with iciness, encouraging me to close the step he’s taking away from me and climb him like a tree.

I don’t, though.

I do what I do best.

And run away. Right past hi s? Hellhound.