When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY

TALA

Water shoots out of Nadia’s nose, leaving watermarks on the camera. “You did what?” she shrieks, wiping her camera off like I wasn’t a witness to something so unfortunate.

I set my laptop down on the end of my bed and slip my cropped tank top on. “Yeah,” I drone, kind of regretting telling her. Pulling my top over my boobs, I get down on my knees and look at the caramel, angelic face on my screen. “When will you be back? I’m having withdrawals,” I say grimly.

Nadia’s basically a famous interior designer.

She won’t admit it. But flying around to take care of A-list celebrities is huge. She’s humble as fuck and rarely ever talks about it.

Shock and disbelief wash over her. “You just fessed up to letting the sexiest man alive eat whipped cream off you and suck on your pussy… and you’re wanting me back?” She curls her shoulders in, pretending to be bashful. “I really am your true love,” she says whimsically.

I sigh heavily, scooting my laptop back to lay on my stomach, and catch a glimpse of the silver dog tag hanging from the moon lamp on my nightstand. “When are you coming back?” I ask again.

She wipes the tears from her peachy cheeks, then swivels around in her chair a few times to collect herself. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she finally answers. “I would’ve been back today if the raisin didn’t change his mind so much.” She rolls her hazel eyes and groans in annoyance. “Speaking of the old fart, he’s calling.”

I frown, blowing her a kiss anyway. “I love you,byeee.”

She aggressively kisses her camera. “Byeee, I love you.”

I close my laptop with a huff and push up off my bed.

I get too emotionally attached to people. It’s honestly a huge red flag of mine that tends to bite me in the ass. I mean, I saw Jax yesterday and I find myself missing him.

I suck my teeth in contemplation, making an awkward claw hand at my phone. But I’m weak, and snatch it up, type mypasscodein, and slam my thumb into my messages. “I can’t,” I murmur to myself, and lock my phone before shoving it into the pocket of my sweatpants.

The doorbell rings downstairs, and adrenaline shoots through my body from the abrupt announcement of someone at my door. It quickly dawns on me that my parents ordered a new rug for my birthday, and I run for the hall with a pep in my step.

Rounding the banister, I ungracefully thunder down the zebra print runner and leap over the last two stairs. My lips curl in pain, feeling the impact in my ankles. I push through it and rip open the front door.

The cold air smacks me in the face, sending my hair flying back and hardening my nipples.

Hopefully this guy doesn’t think it’s because I’m excited to see him.

The delivery man holding a device in his hand offers a grin. “Delivery for MaikoRuger. I just need your signature, and I’ll bring it in for you. It’s pretty heavy.”

There’s that fucking alias again.

I step out, using the pen to scribble nonsense on his device. “Just because I’m a woman that makes me incapable of bringing a rug inside?” I ask jadedly.

He recoils. “No, sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean any offense. It’s not just a rug I’m dropping off. There’s a heavy Dresden chest in there too.”

I scratch my temple, feeling the double whammy of awkwardness and confusion. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine. Just right inside the door will be great. I’ll get it from there.”

He nods politely, and I skitter away, wanting to smack myself in the forehead. “Not everyone is out to make you feel small, dumbass,” I mutter.

I sit down on the third step, keeping my eye on the window while I pull my phone out and call my dad.

The dial tone rings once in my ear.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks worriedly.

“I am still intact, yes. I’m just trying to figure out what’s up with the alias,” I finish quietly, appalled with the delivery man grunting on the front porch.

He’s silent for a moment. “I think it would be best to talk about it face to face, kiddo. I can come there. You can come here… Either way. I just don’t trust these damn phones,” he says cryptically.

Needing some damn coffee, I haul my ass up off the stairs and head to the kitchen. “I can head that way after the delivery man leaves.”

“Oof, call you back, sweetheart. Jax is calling me.” He hangs up, leaving me with the beeps and a slack jaw.

I scoff in disbelief and toss my phone onto the island. Ignoring the atrocious noises coming from the delivery man, I mosey over to my espresso machine and lift the top before popping a pod in.

The machine hums while it brews, emitting a rich aroma that usually leaves me feeling good. I’ve never had my dad choose someone over me before. It’s a huge slap in the face and I’m sure I’m pouting like a brat.

But what the actual fuck?

I yank the fridge open, grab the oat milk, and like a gluttonous imbecile, I twist the cap off and drink from the carton. It dribbles down my chin as I return to the brewing espresso. To make my image worse, I use the back of my hand to wipe it away and continue making my damn coffee.

“You’re all set!” he shouts breathlessly from the door.

“Thank you!” I shout back, and quickly head to the entryway with my mug.

My steps slow, gaping at the vintage, cherry oak Dresden chest that looks remarkably like the one my grandma kept in her bedroom.

“What is going on?” I draw out, knowing it couldn’t be hers.

I open the first drawer—nothing. Second drawer—nothing. I keep going, growing more confused with the nothingness, until I get to the fifth drawer. Tucked away in the back is a small black and white photo.

I stare at it for a moment, unsure if I should mess with someoneelse’sphoto. While tunneling in on it, I instantly grow ashamed of myself for getting butterflies over the rumbles coming up the driveway.

It hasn’t been long enough to warrant those.

Taking a big drink of coffee, I open the front door and step out onto the porch. I’m not willing to let him see me be happy over his arrival. I stop on the first step, fold an arm up, and thin my eyes over my mug as I watch the sexiest black car pull up to my house.

The rumbles cut off, and the sound of his door opening has my toes curling in my fuzzy slippers. I take another drink, watching his hunter eyes pin me down the moment he steps out.

With the hot tingles spreading over my body, I almost don’t notice the four big paws stepping out after him.

I can’t pretend to not be happy. It’s impossible when the two of them are together. Their dynamic is too powerful. It’s honestly perfect.

He grins, eyes drinking me up like water. “Mmm,” he groans. “You somehow just keep looking better and better.”

Taking the last four steps, I shake my head and shift my focus to the beady eyes that are begging for love. “Hi, baby boy,” I coo languidly, stretching my hand out to pet his soft head, laughing as his nub tail starts wiggling at warp speed.

“Stop making me jealous of my dog, Tala, and come here,” Jax orders, sliding an assertive hand over my exposed waist.

The butterflies sink lower, building up pressure in between my thighs. I nonchalantly squeeze them together, hoping I can shove it away.

Still petting Sirohi, I look up through my lashes at Satan’s aggravated face. “Why did you bring him with you if you didn’t want me to love on him?” I ask coyly.

Before I can protest, he roughly pulls me into his cut body, almost making me lose the rest of my coffee and my sanity. “Hmm,” he growls, vibrating my chest. “Sirohi can wait. He’s very patient. But my own patience is growing thin and just might fucking snap. So instead of cutting that thin line, I want you take my hand and show me what the actual fuck another man brought inside,” he says definitively.

He’s staring down at me, waiting to see if I test him.

Although I want to, I don’t. I grab his hand and turn around, then I roll my eyes so he can’t see. While leading Satan and Sirohi into my house, I shove more coffee in my mouth so that I don’t laugh at my own stupidity.

Getting inside the entryway, I wrangle my hand free and point to the Dresden chest. “You can look at it,” I tell him, and walk through the cased opening of my living room. I briefly check over my shoulder to his head at a tilt, looking at the open drawer in analysis.

I guess the demon himself is questioning if he should touch the picture or not.

Setting my mug down on the island, I grab my phone that’s lit up with notifications.

Dad: Missed Call.

Dad: I’m sorry for hanging up, sweetheart. I realized it after I did it and I feel bad. The chocolate will be cold and the marshmallows will be toasted for you.

Dad: Let Jax know he can bring his dog!

I still have no clue how they got all buddy-buddy. I fell into Jax’s trance and completely forgot to question it. Though, I’m not sure I want to. I don’t want Jax to feel like he can’t talk to my dad.

I shove my phone back into my pocket, sighing over the carton of oat milk I left out. That shit’s too expensive to waste.

I grab it, put it back in the fridge, and pull out my vase of water to fill a bowl up for Sirohi.

Palming the bowl with both hands, I carefully trek back to the entryway with it. The water sways and sloshes around, rolling over the edge and onto my hands because I for some reason filled it to the brim.

He’s holding the picture and looking it over, but his eyes stitch to me as I walk past, sending a nervous surge over my chest.

“I didn’t know if he’d be thirsty or not and it makes me sad that animals can’t speak up for what they need. So, I brought it just in case,” I explain awkwardly, bending over to set it on the rug.

Sirohi eyes it, then looks back to Jax like he’s waiting for permission.

He grins. “You don’t have to explain your big heart, little wolf.” Looking down at the beady eyes that are patiently waiting, he nods to the bowl. “Yes,” he says shortly, yet so powerfully.

Sirohi eagerly gets up from his haunches, depleting the water like lightning. He’s going to have to piss like a racehorse here in a bit.

Jax passes the photo to me. “It’s a storage unit on the back.”

I bring the old Polaroid closer to my eyes, inspecting the grainy faces that are sitting on the flatbed of a white truck. “Those are my grandparents sitting on the truck my grandpa would haul hay on,” I think out loud, and flip it over to the four-digit combination. “Why would they…” I murmur, words drifting away in thought.

“I don’t know, baby. Let’s go figure it out.”