It had been two days, and she hadn’t left his mind. Was that normal? Her scent haunted him, surfacing out of his memory and into the real world out of nowhere. It was like she was calling out to him somehow.
When their hands touched at the mart, a shock had run up his arm. It was the right kind, the kind that made his insides…soft. Amelia was so soft. He couldn’t imagine what the rest of her could feel like. If only he could just have another touch.
And the next time he had seen her, optimistic he would run into another fruitful conversation, she had seemed in a hurry. He had watched her earnestly from afar. Slumped in his seat by the window as she grabbed a coffee and bustled out, her hair flying behind her. Her hair was a perfect shade of mahogany. Rich, silky locks that dropped around her shoulders and her round breasts. Marco felt almost hit by a desire to run his fingers through them, soft streaks of brown slipping through his hands. He instantly waved aside the thought.
Yikes. What was wrong with him?
He had almost gotten rid of the thought of her, when his heart lurched again; in fear. It was fine, of course, merely consumed by thoughts of Amelia. But this time, it was uncomfortable. No doubt, his breakfast was going to come right up his throat at any moment.
“Mr. Farkas?” His secretary called out, “Are you all right? You look pale, sir.”
“No, I'm fine.” He sighed as he wiped the cold sweat off his brow. Something was really, really wrong. He had a feeling, it was Amelia. He had no reason to assume that. But his gut feeling had never betrayed him. Ever. And right now, a strange chill began to creep up his spine.
It couldn't possibly be Amelia. Marco tried to reason with his head logically. It wasn't normal for wolf-shifters to undergo the emotional tension of another person, to foresee a bad omen for a human. Unless the person in question was his mate.
“Maybe I should call up a doctor,” she said, reaching for her phone. Marco put his hand up and picked his phone off the table, dialing his driver. He needed to get to Amelia right that instant. His gut was screaming for it.
“Reyna,” He said, “I need you to look into Amelia Jones.”
"Amelia Jones?" Reyna gave him a confused look.
"Yes. Do it quickly."
"But, sir, you don't look well right now. Let's go to the hospital first, after that we can look into Miss Jones as well."
"I said I'm fine." Marco sounded exasperated. "Here," he handed her his phone, "this is her number. Track it down. We need to get to her fast."
Reyna took the number from him, her eyes still screwed in perplexity. "But will you explain why-"
"Later." Marco pressed the phone to his ear.
“Mason,” He said as soon as the call clicked through, “bring the car around.”
“On my way.”
Marco rose to his feet and walked out briskly, Reyna following after him quickly. If there was anyone Marco could rely on, it was the Rouge twins.
“She lives about ten minutes from here,” Reyna informed quickly, “22nd River Street.”
“We’ll have to make it in five.”
“I said that taking your reckless speeding into account.”
“Oh,” Marco finally smirked, “so you’re catching up.”
“It’s grown old,” she sighed as we walked out of the building. Marco could practically hear her eyes rolling. Mason pulled up before them in the Mercedes, windows tinted. Perfect.
“Floor it, Mason.”
“Like always,” he chuckled.
* * *
Marco's eyes stayed fixed on the streets. It wasn’t too fancy, but it didn’t seem like a bad place. It was just a little worn out. There was life on the walls along with years of peeling paint and graffiti. Children were skateboarding on the sidewalks and running across the streets with soccer balls.
He suddenly felt warm. Heated, like something was close by. The hair on his robust arms stood up, and he suddenly knew she was near.
Amelia, his mind called out to her, where are you?
