When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TALA

Setting the last ghost down on the mantle, I stagger back and admire my work. It looks like Halloween threw up in my house.

I left Harvest & Horrors early. That guy tossed me over his shoulder and thought it’d be funny to try and run. Maverick intervened and then a few minutes later Nadia and Leon showed up, so it ended up being fine. But still. It soured my mood.

I came home and decorated the entire house. Now, I’m just waiting for the popcorn to finish popping so I can hit play on Beetlejuice , the 1988 film. One of my childhood favorites.

I turn the lamps off downstairs. The orange string lights create a relaxed ambiance, the glow washing over the ghosts, bats, and jack-o-lanterns that share space with me every October.

The microwave beeps, a few stray pops lingering after the radiation. I amble past the couch and into the kitchen, opening a cabinet and fumbling with the large bowls. A noise of victory escapes me, pulling out a black bowl with Ouija boards andplanchettes.

I walk over to the microwave, open that sucker up, and fill my bowl with the buttery snack. I should eat actual food. But when a pig makes you throw up in your mouth—you lose your appetite.

I fill a glass with water and head back to the living room with it and my big bowl of popcorn.

The large shadow stalking around in the orange light freezes my muscles. My furry slippers scuffle to an abrupt halt, and the water splashes over the lip of the glass and onto my hand. Annoyance burns my cheeks, thawing out the ice that’s freezing me and running fire over my tongue. “What the fuck, Jax?” I hiss.

He turns away from the mantle, hunter eyes locating me and going for a damn drive down my body. He smiles. Clearly amused with himself. “Do you honestly believe I’d let you watch a movie alone?”

I hate the effect his voice has on me. Doesn’t help that he has the face of Heaven and Hell and the body of a god.

I snap my shoulders straight, continuing my route around the back of the couch and towards the coffee table. “After the countless ignored texts and missed calls, why do you think I want to hangout with you?”

Of course, his dog looks cute by the fireplace. It depletes the attitude rushing to my surface, and I set the glass and bowl down on the coffee table, waving at him.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Jax drawls, stepping too close to me.

Maintaining the eye contact he’s trying to kill me with, I snatch the remote up, hold it up over his buff shoulder, and hit play. “What do you really want?” I ask snappily, chucking the remote down.

“You,” he answers, taking another step into my bubble.

His hair’s damp and he smells freshly showered. I guess he washed the murder off before breaking into my house.

Not splitting my eyes from his, I walk backwards until my legs hit the couch. “You think you can just take something you want?” I ask edgily, reminding myself that consent isn’t paramount for him.

He tilts his head, a swoop of hair falling over his eye. “Hmm. If that were the case, I would’ve kidnapped you a month ago.”

I fear I need to bar up my vagina. The way she’s acting right now has me worried.

“You’re deranged,” I bite out, and sit down, grabbing a ghost blanket from the back of the couch.

I was trying to ignore his sweatpants. But him kicking his Chucks off and sauntering over to the couch draws my eyes to them like a moth to a flame.

I didn’t know the Devil owns lounge wear. Lounge wear that’s loose fitting yet showboating his ungodly build.

He sits right next to me, manspreading and throwing his arm over the back of the couch. Right behind me. “I’m obsessive, little wolf.”

I hear him. My heart’s beginning to thunder in my ears, witnessing the first case of a human man owning a monster cock.

My eyes dart away from the black fabric doing nothing to conceal the whole goddamn battalion in his pants.

He’s inhumane. That’s not normal.

He offers me comforting silence and watches the movie with me. I’ve seen it a dozen times and can recite each line. But Jax runs me numb likenitrousoxide. I couldn’t tell you what was said or done on the TV. At some point, my body moved into his, my legs stretched over the couch, and the blanket became shared.

Tingles bloom on my scalp, followed by gentle tugging. I peek out the corner of my eye, tracking his tattooed hand running through the length of my hair. I think they’re designed with traditional Japanese waves, the black ink flowing down his long fingers.

Needing to look away from them, I make the desire sparking through me even worse by gazing at his close face. “What’s your dog’s name?” I ask quietly.

His hunter eyes are dangerously thin, reflecting the cord that’s about to snap. “Sirohi.” His voice rumbles against my arm.

“When did you get Sirohi? You’ve obviously done a lot of training with him.”

“About ten months ago. He was used as bait for a dogfight. I usually get the dogs checked out by Dr. Zion, take them to the ranch, then find good homes for them… But Sirohi was different.”

A splinter runs through my heart, thinking about Sirohi having to go through that. But I also have pesky butterflies trying to flutter from Jax being the light to walk the dark web of the vile shit plaguing the world. “That’s what you meant earlier,” I point out, and he nods subtly, still tingling my scalp. “How was he different?” I ask curiously.

“Sometimes the sick bastards stream the fights. It’s an extra way for them to make money. Well, they streamed the mutilation of his ears in the pit, trying to rile the dogs up for a bigger bloodbath. When I got there, got my hands on him… I just couldn’t let him go.”

The candlelight that burns for Jax—somehow turns into a catastrophic wildfire. “Were the dogs okay tonight?” I ask mutely, swallowing the urge that’s making me inch closer.

His hand glides down my back, and his fingertips draw over the exposed skin on my side. It tickles and makes me wither, drawing out a devilish grin that exposes a sliver of his teeth. “Yes, ma’am. The canines are in good hands,” he says cryptically.

The fireworks popping in my stomach are producing feelings I cannot let myself have.

Tearing away from him and over to the credits rolling, I push off his hard body and sit up. “Movie’s over,” I point out, making an ass out of myself by stealing my blanket back from him.

I toss it to the farthest cushion, standing up and wanting to smack myself for wasting the popcorn.

I forgot about it.

I bend over and grab my phone from the coffee table, shaking my head at the pictures Nadia has sent of her new best friend. “I think our friends became friends,” I laugh lightly, and look back to show him.

I’d say with his eyes eating my ass up—he doesn’t give a shit about what’s on my phone.

I usually get really annoyed when people stare at it. For some reason, I feel nervous. Like, I’m a rabbit getting preyed on by a starving wolf.

He slowly scans up to my face, eyes darkening with ire. “What happened with that guy?”

Tossing my phone back down, I roll my eyes in remembrance, picking the bowl and glass up. “He tossed me over his shoulder and started running around. Maverick was on his way to meet us and he saw it, stepped in, and sent him on his way. The end.”

I stride away and into the kitchen, leaving him to crawl into his portal and dissipate like smoke.

Fuck, I need him to. There’s no way a man looks like that without having several pools to dip in. And I get way too emotionally attached. I can’t be a backup plan for when he’s bored with the others.

I whine, stepping on the lever for the trash can and pouring the stale popcorn into the empty bag. I toss the bowl into the sink, guzzle the water, and set the glass down.

Tingles radiate on my back, the behemoth’s silhouette walking up behind me catching my eye through the window. I whisk around, pressing my hip bones into the counter as fear overtakes my face.

He towers over me, his hands firmly exploring my hips and grabbing them, and I slap my palms to thecountertop, peering up into the obsidian that’s possessively holding me in place.

“I willneverhurt you. I’ll break you in ways that you beg more of. But, baby, I promise your heart won’t ever be one,” he says vehemently.

“Then let me go,” I breathe.

Torment furrows his brows. “Don’t say that like you want me to walk out that door and never come back. Because you know I will. I will always come back. And if that’s what breaks your heart, then so be it. I’ll keep breaking it. And I’ll always mend it back together.”

I snarl, and he drops his face closer.

“I know your skin is crawling the way mine is. I know you feel what I’m feeling. Don’t be coy, baby.”

My hands gain a mind of their own. One second, it’s the cold, black walnutcountertop, the next, it’s the heat piercing through his hoodie and the stone that constructs his lean abdomen. “We can’t. Whatever this is. We can’t,” I whisper on his lips.

He steps into me, and I wince, feeling his inhumane cock press into my lower stomach and pelvis. “Why’s that?” he grumbles.

I shouldn’t, but my hands work on their own accord up to his heaving chest. “Because I have broken pieces that I’m not convinced will ever be fixed.”

His lips skim mine, and his eyes close. “I need you, broken pieces and all. I know for a fact they fit with mine. Even if they didn’t, I’d put yours back together and shatter them with pleasure.”

There’s not enough air. He’s stripping the oxygen from my lungs and filtering it warmly onto my lips, threatening any logical thinking.

His large hands smooth down my hips, cupping under my ass and picking me up as if I’m a feather. My hands fist his hoodie, and my ass grazes the edge of the counter, getting placed on top of it. And I do something fucking stupid like wrap my legs around his slutty waist, crossing my ankles behind his back.

I whimper, getting a jolt of pleasure as his monster cock rubs my desperate clit through my leggings.

“Attagirl,” he growls. “Let me in that darkness, baby.” He moves a hand up my outer thigh, the other drawing up my spine and into my hair.

Pleasurable pinpricks smart on my scalp as he tilts my spinning head back. “I… I can’t,” I pant, contradicting myself as I uncurl my fists, latching my fingers into the soft hair on the back of his head.

He dips down, his messy hair brushing my jaw. “Can’t?” He kisses my neck, rolling his hips and pulling an airy moan from me. “Hmm. Or, too scared to?” His silky tongue swipes the spot he kissed, drawing the sensitive skin into his mouth.

I’m too fucking desperate. Apparently touch deprived too, considering his hands and mouth feel like seventh heaven on me. “I’m scared,” I admit breathlessly.

Blood is blooming to the surface of my flesh. I should be worried about the hickey he’s leaving. Instead, I’m grinding into him, physically feeling him lengthening against me.

It’s horrifyingly large. But it’s hitting the spot just right and building pressure in my pelvis.

His lips smack, his teeth grazing over his mark. “Don’t be scared, little wolf. I’ll help you fight your demons,” he says heartily, then kisses another claimed spot, sucking on it and tilting my head farther back.

“Jax,” I rasp, throat growing dry from frantic breaths. He groans, and tears away from my neck with rosy lips. Just to dive back down, languidly skating his tongue up my throat. “I need to do it myself. And you need to leave.”

He’ssingle-handedlyerasing the pain Liam inflicted on me. His tongue and lips have captured the trauma housing itself in my flesh. And that’s scary.

This is dynamite.

Dynamite blows up.

He kisses over my jaw, landing his lips on my ear. “You want me to leave before or after you come? ‘Cause, baby, you’re still rolling your pussy on my cock and have a mean grip around me.”

My eyes widen in realization. I unlatch from his hair and drop my legs from his waist. The aggravation of losing an orgasm controls my hands and I grab his annoyingly perfect face, guiding it to get eye to eye.

Oh. Oh, no.

Falling into his pools of Hell eradicates the bitchiness that was primed and ready to fire out. It makes my heart patter, and my shoulders relax. “Goodnight, Jax,” I whisper. And do another stupid thing, gliding my thumbs over his full lips.

His hand uncurls from my hair, and he tenderly rubs down my back while I ogle his lips.

I kind of wish he would backhand me, or call me a derogatory name, or hell, even disrespect me by crashing his lips to mine, knowing I’m not willing to give that to him.

It would rain on the wildfire burning for him.

As if I wasn’t already struggling, he wedges his hands under my ass and hauls me up into him. I wrap my arms around his warm neck and rest my head on his shoulder—so I don’t have to look at his devastating face anymore.

Carrying me through the kitchen and the living room, I wave at Sirohi again. This time, he cocks his head and prances up to Jax’s side, following with excited eyes up the stairs.

“Hi, baby,” I coo, and shift around, tugging on Jax’s hoodie.

I note the silver twinkling against his black ink. I’ve never noticed him wearing a chain. I guess I’ve never been close enough to notice it.

He watches me in the passing mirrors as I run my nails under it and lift it out. I bite my lip, stifling a smile that wants to tattle on me.

He has a matching dog tag with the same engraving.

I catch his eyes in the last mirror, but the burgundy mark on my neck claims my attention, and I swat my hair away, leaning in closer. My jaw drops, taking in the heart-shaped hickey before the visual gets stripped from me. “H-how… did you…”

He smiles, giving me an up-close view of his sharp canines. “That’s not the only impressive thing I can do with my mouth.”

I’m mute.

He might as well shove his long fingers into my mouth and seize my tongue. He’s already claimed my capabilities of speaking.

He carries me into my room, over to the side of my bed, languidly bending over to set me down on my back.

I don’t want to let go of Satan. The way our bodies mold into each other is undoubtedly perfect. I do, though.

“Good night, little wolf.”