When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TALA

“Party’s here!” Nadia cheers from the entryway.

Thank God.

There’s only so much I can pretend to do to avoid the hunter eyes in my living room. Maverick’s been holding a conversation with him, so I don’t feel too bad about it.

It’s not that I don’t want to take a leap into his flames.

I do. I’m just scared. And smacking lips with him will only intensify the deep connection we have.

Setting my empty glass down on the island, I greet Nadia’s angelic face with a smile of relief. Even though she had partaken in my branding.

“I got the birthday girl her wine!” She lifts up a black bottle like a trophy, striding up to me with a gleeful smile.

“Thank you. But this will make my clothes disappear from my body,” I titter, turning around to grab wine glasses.

She races up to my side, hastily tearing open the top and widening her eyes at me. “Have you even fucking kissed him yet?” she asks loudly.

I grab the glasses and set them down, closing the cabinet while deadpanning at her. Their conversation in the living room has gone silent, the only noise being the wine chugging as it pours out.

“No,” I reply coldly. Long stepping away from her, I peek around the cased opening to the bare living room. “Where’d they go?”

“They were manspreading when I walked past,” she shrugs, holding two full glasses.

Nadia doesn’t waste time when it involves alcohol.

Also, I think Jax just abducted Maverick through one of his portals.

“Hmm,” I hum, reaching out for the glass she’s passing to me.

I take a drink of the bubbly blackberry and walk through the living room. I don’t know what they’re doing, but I’m snatching the remote up, plopping my ass down, and starting the movie.

I whine, forgetting about my fresh tattoo that’s eating my skin now. I take another drink, tracking Nadia’s little dance she does as she meanders to the long section of the couch.

“Did you see thatLiam’smom filed a missing person report on him?” she asks, stretching her short legs out and twiddling her pink toenails.

My stomach twists at the mention of his name. “I didn’t. Even if he wasn’t dead, the police don’t give a shit enough to leave their desks. I mean, those five women are still missing a year later…Loxleyincluded,” I finish in my glass, her name echoing up and smacking me in the face.

“What did you end up doing with his teeth?”

I swallow the bubbles, my cheeks instantly growing warm. “They’re on my altar. I’ll probably make earrings with them.”

“Oh,” she drones, and pops her lips. “In your no-no room.”

She only calls it that because I don’t let people go in there and fondle my crystals or mess with my herbs.

I nod, ready to dig a grave for the conversation and tune into Sleepy Hollow , the 1999 film. My phone buzzes in my sweatpants. I groan in annoyance, and wrangle my hand into the fabric, pulling out my phone.

Mom: Are you ready for the wolves to sing to you?

Now I feel like shit for getting annoyed.

Me: Running out back now.

“Come on,” I rush, hauling my ass up from the couch. I quickly set my glass and phone down in between two bouquets on the coffee table and run around the couch.

“Oh, shit! Your birthday song!” She leaps up, somehow not spilling her wine as she runs after me.

Flying through the kitchen and the laundry room, I jerk open the back door, race across the back porch, and stride through the frosted grass until I make it to my swinging daybed. I leap onto it, giggling like a little kid as I throw my stinging back into the cold pillows.

The solar lanterns are emitting a warm glow around the wooden platform my daybed’s on, casting enough light to watch the flurries falling from the moonlit sky.

Nadia lays back next to me, one hand clutching her wine, the other grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers.

“Remember our sleepovers with Maverick in the tree house?” she asks, turning her peachy cheeks to me. “We’d always wake up to Maiko in bed with us.”

I laugh, dialing it down to listen to the distant serenade. It’s the sound of home. The sound I could’ve escaped to if I wouldn’t have been so fucking brainwashed.

“I think I hear Dad howling,” Nadia titters.

The alcohol giggles bubble in my chest, shaking it with a silent laugh that spills outsmokily. That’s how he gets them to start their symphony. He climbs onto the tallest rock pile in the center of the sanctuary, tips his chin up, and howls like a wolf.

Grandpa used to do it with him.

I hope he doesn’t feel lonely doing it alone this year.

Grief overwhelms me. It tightens my chest and produces a knot in my throat. The tears I cannot hold back leak out of my burning eyes, rolling down my temples and getting absorbed in my hair line.

Nadia squeezes my hand, turning to me with a melancholic frown and glassy eyes. “I’m here,” she whispers through the silence.

Her comfort is nice. But I find myself wanting Jax’s.

Evidently, he sensed it, considering there’s a large hand skimming up my thigh.

I blink the waves away and look down, heart swelling at the way he’s crouched down in front of the daybed, strong face soft with understanding.

Him being here, being present and consoling—means more than he’ll ever know.

Nadia lets my hands go, rubbing my shoulder before sitting up. “Oh, goddamn. My head’s spinning,” she says mutely, then staggers to her feet.

“Jesus Christ, angel,” Maverick sighsdisappointedly, appearing out of thin air.

“What?” she snaps. He looks over her hair, scratching his jaw with twisted lips, and she flips him off, storming past him. “Eat my ass, Maverick.”

He turns on his heels, following right behind her. “If death wasn’t the guaranteed outcome of such action, I’d consider it,” he quips.

I slowly blink, sitting up to the silent demon who’s observing me. Saying nothing, I wrap my arms around his neck. He instantly swallows me with his strong arms, allowing me to melt into his heat and suffocate on his dark spices.

Our hearts beat together, knowing this is the closest they’ll ever get to touching without being taken out of their cages.

Holding me protectively, he stands up, and I encircle his waist with my legs. My back is lit up like the Fourth of fucking July. But the loving comfort he’s providing takes the pain away, leaving me with the invigorating embers that set my skin on fire in the most pleasurable way.

I don’t weigh the scales.

I let my pounding heart take the lead.

Moving my arms back, I cup his scruffy jaw and tilt my head, parting my lips and sealing them to his. Through the black washing out my vision, I see stars swell and burst, funneling into a galaxy consisting of colors that don’t exist.

He fervently kisses me back, a low rumble reverberating off his chest as his hand slides up into my hair.

The way our lips lock is undoubtedly hand carved. It’s a perfectly snug fit that connects us into one; two puzzle pieces snapping together.

His jaws stretch in my palms, his lips parting and moving mine with them, and his silky tongue glides over mine, transmitting sweet tobacco onto my taste buds.

It’s beyond intoxicating. It’s a drug that would cause pandemonium. And I’m hooked. I’m addicted. I’m fiending and latching into his hair, just so I can skate my tongue as far back as I can and chase the high.

The door closes quietly behind me, and he smooths down my side, getting a large handful of my ass as the sounds of our lips unsealing and colliding back weave into the hum that’s vibrating my head.

I crack my eyes to look at the dangerous man I’m merging souls with, smiling at how infatuated I am with his design. He smiles back, our teeth scraping from our desperate attempt to feed the flames. The ghost of his hand is left on my ass, and I know he’s moving around doing something, but I’m spellbound, hungrily consuming him.

We’re not rushing. We’re exploring.

We’re not competing. We’re in tandem.

“Alright, angel, get your ass up.”

“No,” Nadia whines. “Johnny Depp is so hot in this movie… Oh… Oh! Ride until dawn and record it!”

My cheeks grow tight to suppress a smile, and I shake my head—devouring the Devil.

He tears away, and I open my heavy eyes, getting my head turned by my hair and my hazy sight aimed at a mirror in the stairwell. “Look how fucking divine you are. Divine and all mine ,” he says possessively, and turns my lips right back to his.

Both of our mouths are swollen, and blood kissed, the friction causing static to numb the affiliation. It doesn’t stop us. Our lips smack and our tongues swirl, putting an end to time and making the craving unbearable.

My body’s moving on its own accord and grinding into his cut abs.

It’s basically a fucking washboard.

My stomach flips, and my back meets the bed. He crawls up after me, his knees dipping the mattress in by my ass, and he releases my hair, caging my throat and tilting his head to erotically swipe his tongue over the roof of my mouth. “Fuckin’ novocaine,” he growls against me.

I’m panting, breathing in the hallucinogens that blur everything around me. Besides him.

All I see is him. All I want is him.

I need him.

Releasing his hair, I fervently kiss him and reach through the space between us, grabbing the fabric of his long sleeve shirt and pulling it out from my legs. He caresses down my chest, crafting chills that harden my nipples to peaks.

The heavy thrum sitting low in my pelvis is radiating up through my stomach. It falls heavier as his fingers hook into my V-neck, teasing it down while his lips go for a languid drive down my neck in the company of his tongue.

“Jax,” I breathe, running my nails over his sides and clawing into his back.

He looks up through his thick lashes, slowly exposing my breast. “You want to get messy with me, little wolf?” he asks salaciously, lowering his mouth to my nipple.

I don’t know what that entails. But yes. Absolutely.

I nod, and he sucks my nipple into his mouth. Every hair on my body stands straight, the chills buzzing me into a withering mess and drawing out a whimper. I’m radioactive, watching and feeling the key holder to my desires pull my right boob out and give it the same treatment.

My nipple pops from his mouth and he sits up. My eyes instantly cling to the dragon head covering his lean abdomen, the heavy shading blending up into the ink he’s slowly fucking teasing me with.

I look up into his knowing eyes, grabbing my own shirt and taking it off inside out. It snags my hair, ripping little pieces from my scalp as I yank it off.

Even the way he undresses is alluring.

He’s reaching behind his head, exposing inch by inch until it gets to his arms. Then, he slips out of it effortlessly. It’s porn. He’s porn.

“Oh, my God,” I murmur to myself, and engage my core, sitting up to the delicious art in between my legs.

Twin samurai face a beautifully intricate temple on his chest. It all blends seamlessly and flows with the curvature of his body. Up close, I see the jagged lines and bumps concealed with the black ink. They’re everywhere. His stomach, chest, arms… Everywhere.

I run my hands up them as if they’re braille, as if they’ll tell me his story and release any torment that’s still housed inside the scarred tissue. His stomach tenses, and I look up into the haunted obsidian that’s tracking my movement, puffy lips parted for heavy breaths. “I’m here for you, Jax. You can tell me whenever you’re ready,” I say softly, and press my lips below the center of his pecs.

He tips his head back on a groan, and the lamp behind me shines light on the criminal carving of his Adam’s apple, giving way to two raised bumps under the dragon head.

“Baby, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he breathes, and looks back down to me. “But I’m starving right now.” He reaches over me, popping the cap off something.

I check over my shoulder, laughing in excitement at the can of whipped cream he’s bringing back to himself and the tub of maraschino cherries sitting off to the side.

“I have a trick for you,” I hum, laying back down and plucking a cherry out of the tub.

I dangle it over my mouth, smiling at the way he’s frozen and staring at me. Biting the cherry from the stem, the sweet fruit bursts in my mouth as I work my jaws to chew it up. He’s silent, watching me like predator to prey. I swallow it and point out the straight stem, letting him watch me set it between my teeth, and seal my lips to work the stem around.

He shakes his head in disbelief. “No way.”

I nod, using my tongue to form a knot.

“Tala, if you pull out a knotted stem, I’m going to skip past the whipped cream and get right into cleaning my plate.”

I smirk and slip my thumbs into the waistband of my sweatpants and thong, slowly. So fucking slowly. Teasing them down. He doesn’t know where to look. And for the first time ever, I see his eyes widen in surprise, focusing on the landing strip trimmed and shaved on my mound.

A laugh breezes out of my nose, straightening my legs upright and ripping the fabric from my ankles. I know he’s looking at my pleading pussy. I confirm it by opening my legs and laying them widely around him—fully exposing myself.

He gawks at me ravenously, biting his lip and running his free hand up my inner thigh. “God, I fucking knew it was going to be pretty. But I didn’t think it would be this pretty or rosy,” he marvels, then briefly looks at the scars his palm is revealing.

My pussy clenches, his fingers getting so close to touching the thrum that’s been lit up for him since I opened that door. I don’t want him acknowledging my self-harm though. So, I pluck the stem from in between my teeth, holding up the perfectly centered knot to distract him.

His eyes sharpen, and he takes it from me to inspect it over. “How many times has your little trick worked on a man?” he questions, jealousy edged in his tone.

I’ve never shown anyone besides Nadia and Maverick. But I kind of want to provoke him. “Every time,” I rasp.

His eyes slide from the stem, over to my face, and he stashes the stem into his denim pocket. Moving his thumb to my clit, a surge of lighting zips up my stomach and steals my breath. He starts slow circles that feed the pressure and hovers the tip of the whipped cream above my mouth.

“Let me make one thing clear, TalaAkiraHuxley. I can easily hunt down the fuckers that have gotten to see your pretty cunt. I’ll slice along their stomachs and hang them from their intestines for you. Unless you want that, baby girl, I suggest you open your mouth for me before I fill it with something you’ll choke on.”

I believe it. I’d probably believe anything out of his mouth right now. He’s slowly building up an orgasm that’s been blooming for an entire fucking month.

I open my mouth and the can hisses, dispensing cold, vanilla cream on my tongue. I’m not able to close my lips to greedily consume it before he’s coming down on top of me and swiping his tongue over mine.

Stealing it.

“Mmm,” he groans, then swishes it around, spitting the milky liquid back onto my taste buds.

A whine comes out of my open mouth, the concoction of cream and his saliva trickling to the back of my throat as pressure swells in between my hips.

“Now, be a good girl and fuckin’ come for me,” he grumbles above my face.

I swallow, wrapping my hand around his dog tag. “Yes, sir,” I pant, eyes fluttering lazily.

The heat begins expanding and he dips lower, the can hissing and the cold cream coiling around my nipple. Goosebumps raise beneath the sweat misting my skin, inducing fire and ice to run in pleasurable tandem. Right as the extra warmth from his tongue swirls through the cream, pandemonium shoots up my spine and lights my entire body up in flames.

My stomach contracts, sending up a moan that sounds so foreign to my ears. It stretches my neck open, my head pressing into the bed and my hand pulling his chain. The chaotic euphoria has me panting, raspy moans filling the gaps of my frantic breaths.

He doesn’t stop until I’m shaking around him. Even then, he’s dispensing the whipped cream in a line down my abdomen and dipping a long finger inside me.

I release his chain so my damn hand doesn’t get severed from my merciless grip. “Jax, I… I-oh, my fucking God.” My attempt at asking for a breather splits off into a slutty whine, stretching around a finger that has killed who knows how many people.

Black invades my vision, and my hands latch onto my sticky tits, his tongue lapping up the line of sugar that’s melting rapidly on my hot flesh. He’s following it down. And knowing where the end goal is—is making me spiral.

I’ve never had an orgasm with a man without doing it myself. They’re all imbeciles. But the Dark God who’s watching me with killer eyes as his tongue skates over my landing strip is expertly tapping my inner walls and hitting the spot that makes stars flash in my depleting vision.

“Eyes on me,” he orders, his breath fanning my swollen bud. “I want you to remember the face that unleashes Hell under your skin.”

My brows knit, mostly from the way my flesh is already falling off my bones. “As if you already fucking haven’t,” I pant.

The asshole laughs with a dangerous smile, and his tongue flattens over his bottom lip, taunting me with the anticipation of what it will feel like.

My eyes widen, watching over my heaving chest as he brings the can parallel to my mound. My nails dig into my skin, a sharp breath running through my teeth from the iciness freezing my clit. His smile sharpens and he removes the can, teasing his hot tongue up the chilling numbness.

Because the visual of Satan eating my pussy isn’t orgasm inducing enough, the sensation of his silky taste buds dripping saliva down my soaked entrance is brewing a storm that will destroy me. “W-what were you doing outside?” I ask through a breath.

His brows furrow, tongue disappearing into his mouth. “Smoking a cigarette,” he answers tonelessly.

“Oh, okay.” I reach down and run my fingers into his messy hair.

His eyes thin to sharp slits, tongue coming back out and drawing my clit into a suction, spinning the embers low in my stomach.

A raspy moan breaks through the fiery storm he’s conjuring, and I curl my hands into his hair, rolling my hips and grinding into the Devil.

He’s so beautiful. It’s sickening.

He drops the can of whipped cream, grazing his cold palm across my inner thigh, continuously tapping into the tornado of carnal fire with a single digit.

I’m not sure if it’s because of my attraction to him or if his swirling tongue is just unholy magic, but the tornado turns volatile inside me, emitting flames to explode through my veins. My abdomen turns to stone, and I bow my back off the bed to let out the husky cries of fucking Hell.

I twitch and wither, my thighs snapping closed around his scruff. “Oh, my fucking God, are you trying to eat me?” I whine out, brows knitted tightly, and eyes stitched to the obsidian hunting me through the gap of my thighs.

His swallow is audible as my abused bud pops from his mouth, and he withdraws his finger, slowly cleaning it off with a smile creeping up. “I told you I was starving, little wolf.” He stands up, towering over my sweaty body. “And you taste mighty fine.”

His Southern drawl is sex for my ears. Probably doesn’t help that euphoria is harvesting my body and penetrating my bones.

I sit up, still trying to catch my breath. “Where are you from?” I ask curiously.

He grabs under my jaw, tilting my head up to my arousal glistening in his scruff. “Are you trying to get to know me?” he asks haughtily.

I slowly blink, opening my eyes back up to his wolfish smile. “Trying to get to know the man that’s been stalking me for a month? The man that just murdered my pussy with his tongue? Yes. Absolutely. I’m going to work my way up to your social security and routing number.”

“Hm,” he growlsamusedly. “You don’t have to work for that, baby. I’ll just tell you.”

Smoothing my hand up his thigh, I deftly maneuver over and rub up his stiff cock. “So, tell me, Mr. Scythe. Where are you from?”

“ Phew ,” he shakes his head, lowering his lips to mine. “Savannah, Georgia, ma’am,” he drawls against me, then presses his lips to mine .