When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

TALA

“ Mmm… Jax…” His rough, large hands run up my inner thighs, holding them open while his tongue teases up my-

My cheeks burn as my eyes pop open, seeing nothing but black.

Panic surges through my chest, and I go to swat the fabric from my eyes, but familiar cotton has my wrists and arms bound.

In a fucking prayer.

I open my mouth to yell. All that comes out is a needy moan, feeling him suck on my clit like it’s his favorite candy. He’s salivating heavily, the streams rolling down my entrance and puddling in the mess that’s soaking the sheets underneath me.

“I-I’m so fucking mad at you,” I say unconvincingly.

“Hmm,” he growls against me, adding a vibration that makes my back bow off the bed.

His fingertips graze my inner thighs, sending violent goosebumps to zip up my tense stomach. My nipples tighten painfully around the metal, squished flat against the flesh of my sore arms.

“Jax. You can’t just break in, tie me up, and start eating my pussy when I’m asleep. That’s not consensual,” I pant.

My bud stretches, popping free of his mouth. “There’s a red tab in one of your black books, little wolf. I think you know which page I’m referring to.” His voice is dangerous without vision. Completely haunting.

“Just because it’s ma-oh, my fucking God,” I whine through clenched teeth.

His tongue resumes its dark magic, all while pressing on my lower stomach and easing two fingers in. They curl up into the pressure, and it ignites a flaming ball of carnal fury to spin in my abdomen.

My eyes roll lazily behind the blindfold, raspy moans wrecking my throat and filling the room, and my body begins defying me even more by grinding into him.

In a snap of a finger sparks surge through my veins and light up my entire body. My stomach contracts and my head goes underwater. I feel the burst and I feel him trooping through drowning, but I don’t think I’m on Earth anymore.

I’m swimming in live wires on the fucking moon.

I couldn’t tell you if anything intelligible fell out of my hoarse throat as my soul got stripped from my body.

I’m shaky and weak reentering my vessel, like I’m not real and this is all just a dream.

The moonlight flash-bangs my eyes, and I blink heavily, trying to adjust the contrition scorning my vision—and begin wishing the fabric never got removed.

He’s devastatingly beautiful, shirtless and sitting up in between my twitching legs, his scruff soaked and dripping down his chest.

He grabs the red rope binding my arms and hands, and like a damn beast, he rips it in half. The loose ends tatter to my sternum, quickly getting stripped away with the rest and thrown across the room.

I swallow, rubbing over my sore arms. “I need you to go, Jax.”

The moon is splashing over his backside, keeping his dark features in the shadows. I’m still able to see his eyes darken though. And with him threatening me, the flies and bees team up and swarm my chest.

I swing my leg from around him, scoot across my bed, and scramble to my dresser.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tala,” he says right behind me.

I briefly glance into the mirror, meeting the eyes of Satan, then rip out a pair of boy short underwear and a cropped tank top. “You said you were capable of killing me. That’s unforgivable and I don’t feel safe with you anymore.”

Storming away from him, I hurriedly stumble into my underwear, internally berating myself for having a giant ass that slows down the process of getting dressed.

I know he’s right on my tail. The insistent tingles are lighting my back up as I slip my tank top on, making haste for the stairs.

I fell asleep with my lamps on downstairs, so I’m able to fly down them without snapping my neck. The second I reach the lower level his hands grip my waist and spin me around.

I wince, drawing back from the dark glare in my face.

“I didn’t say it’d be fucking easy,” he snarls. “It would kill me before the knife did. I need you to promise me you won’t do anything without talking to me, baby. I am so fucking serious.”

“I never said I was going to,” I hum pensively.

“You are correct. You never audibly said it, but your attitude suggested otherwise.” He stands straight, cupping under my jaw and pulling my attention up at him. “Look into my eyes and promise me.”

Heeding his command, I start to get lost in his death pools. “I promise,” I whisper.

He looks over me, the prolonged silence leading me to believe I unintentionally lied. “Attagirl,” he says, voice hoarse with relief.

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I lift my head from his hand and turn on my heel for the kitchen.

I know he said it wouldn’t be easy. It still doesn’t sit right with me though. And now I kind of worry what might prompt him to offer the death card.

Grabbing two amber glasses from the cabinet, I set them on the island, continuously sneaking peeks at the demon while snatching the vase of water from the fridge and filling the glasses.

His jaw tics. “Come. Here.”

I eye the knife block, measuring the distance in case I need to defend myself. But he could snap my neck with one hand and no effort.

His black eyes glide over to the knives, snapping back to me. The faintest twitch ripples his lip, and I fear my black walnutcountertopis about to be destroyed from the inhumane grip he has on it.

I came all over his cock to that sight.

Now, a sense of danger is crawling under my skin, making me want toshapeshiftinto a fucking worm and wiggle away.

He stalks around the island, eating away the distance way too quickly and pulling his black butterfly knife out.

I stumble back into the fridge, rattling the jars sitting on top. “J-Jax.”

Fight-or-flight has a rush of blood shooting through my limbs, making my heart burn from the crazed rate it’s beating at. Sweat percolates on the back of my neck as he braces his hand above my head, trapping me between him and the fridge.

The metal clanks together. I know he’s rolling the blade out, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the eerie darkness that’s haunting his face.

The blade creeps up into my peripheral vision, and I bring a hand to his dog tag, trying to pull him closer. But that’s like trying to move a mountain. “Stop,” I hiss.

He shakes his head, snatching my hand and curling it around the handles. It’s pinned between the fire of his palm and the iciness of the metal.

I’m too scared to move. If I thrash, I could hurt either one of us. So, I just let him move the blade to his sternum, watching helplessly and in shock.

“Just fucking take it out, Tala. I’d rather you carve my heart out and die at your mercy, than feel it fucking fracture every time you look at me differently.” He pushes the blade into his skin, and I whimper, tracking the crimson bubbling out and following the blade down the black ink that shades a beautiful temple in the center of his chest.

I can’t bear to see him hurt. I also can’t look away.

Like the weak person I am, tears well in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. “Please stop,” I choke out, and look up through the waves washing over my vision, watching his eyes soften as they find mine.

“It’s yours,” he says hoarsely, voice edged with torment.

I shake, trying my hardest to pull the knife away and not caring if it stabs me in the throat in the process. “I can’t fall in love with a dead man,” I bite out.

He instantly halts. “Was that a confession, little wolf?”

I focus on the slice, noting the way it appears as if the temple is raining blood, the streams rolling over the mountains and through the valleys of his lean body. I wipe my hand up through the crimson, smearing it around until it coats my palm.

“Lift my shirt up,” I order softly.

He blinks, not understanding. He does it anyway, exposing my breasts and the diamonds hugging my nipples.

I press my hand through my cleavage, leaving a bloody handprint on my sternum. “Our souls are interwoven, Jax. You are etched into my veins and branded in my bones. Just because I say something is unforgivable, doesn’t mean I won’t move past it in time.”

He relaxes his hand from mine, holding the wet blade in between two fingers to let my hand fall from the handles. While pinning me with eyes of desire, he quickly flips it around until the blade disappears, then shoves it into his pocket.

Cupping under my ass, he lifts me up into him and swivels around to set me on the island. “You can say it, baby.” He smiles, licking the sharp point of the canine my eyes are set on.

“Say what?” I question.

Running his hand through the bloody handprint, he smears it up to my throat and bends down to my ear. “I love you,” he whispers deeply.

The universal words of affection sound so rich on his tongue.

My mouth runs dry, eyes falling heavy, and even though he just had me coming all over his face and fingers, a light thrum radiates where his jean-clad weapon is resting against. “Keep dreaming, big boy,” I whisper.

While my head spins in an alternate dimension, he lowers himself down to my tits and pulls a nipple into his mouth. I arch into the warmness, running my fingers through his hair as he nips at it, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

But he stops and stands up. “I’m sorry, baby girl. One second.” His lip faintly twitches, digging his phone out of his jeans, and he keeps his killer eyes on me while holding it up—saying nothing.

The hazel eyes in front of me squint in annoyance. “What do you mean you’re not trying any dresses on? I don’t think your leather fits the dress code, babe.” She slurps up the last of her lemon water, making that atrocious bubble sound.

With my mouth full of salmon, cream cheese, rice and seaweed, I give a lousy shrug and work my jaws quicker. I swallow, sucking my teeth clean. “Jax said he got me a dress.”

Her jaw drops. “That’s so hot,” she says dreamily.

I nod in agreement, dunking another roll in soy sauce. “I need to look for athletic wear while we’re at the mall.”

She pauses mid bite, angelic face screwing up. “For what? You rarely even wear comfy clothes to bed. You go full commando and practically invite your sexy stalker to suck on your pus-”

“Nadia!” I hiss, cutting her off.

It’s been a few days since the dubious act. It’s also been a few days since I’ve seen the sex demon, and I hate how much I miss him. He calls and texts, but his physical form is vacant from mine, and I don’t like it. I also don’t like my best friend shouting “pussy” in the middle of a restaurant.

“I need leggings and sports bras for my training with him,” I answer, waving my roll in the air.

The waiter whizzes by and tops our waters off. Nadia gives him a sheepish smile, delicately covering her mouth as she chews. “You’re seriously going to follow your grandparents’ footsteps?” she asks, voice muffled from the food in her mouth.

I thank the waiter and watch him walk off, then return to our conversation. “Not in their direct ones, no. Self-defense and strength are just important skills to have… especially with the shit fest I’m involved in.” I remind myself, and scan around like someone’s going to be watching from a corner.

She pops her lips. “Okay… What are the indirect footsteps?”

“I’m going to help Jax rescue dogs,” I say reservedly.

She slams her head back into the booth, rolling her eyes and faking a dramatic, silent orgasm. Her cheeks turn peachy, and after her theatrics, she bobs back up. “You better have like eight babies with him.”

I’d rip my uterus out myself if I could.

Before saying something that could be mildly offensive to the surrounding people, the waiter sets down a bowl of three pink spheres in front of me.

I catch myself giving him prayer hands while thanking him, and awkwardly tighten them up into fists. He laughs and wanders off, not thinking anything of it.

But I have a demon that haunts me. And that said demon has a prayer kink. A God complex that I feed into.

The claws of anxiety begin scratching my chest, thinking I might’ve just gotten an innocent man killed.

Keep the prayers bound with red and at the hands of the Dark God.