by Alicia Banks
Amelia Jones was a twenty-nine-year-old blogger who worked for Bleacher Report, had a wrecked-up apartment (where she lived with her husband and son), and loved coffee. The introduction on her website had turned out to be quite helpful.
As the very next day, Marco strolled to the most famous coffee shop in the town named ‘Impresso Espresso.’ It was a spacious place and he found it to be warm and cozy. When Marco entered the shop, he felt welcomed with a multitude of voices, and a roar of laughter issuing from all corners. Instantly, a smile licked his lips. He scanned the room with his keen eyes but caught no sight of Amelia. Deciding to wait a little longer, Marco helped himself to a strong cup of steaming Espresso and settled into a corner. At his side, the window offered a curtain, and sunlight sieved in, casting shadowy branches over his face. Around him, Marco could easily see that most people had come here accompanied by their friends or families. That explained the endless gossip that was permeating the air.
Behind the incredibly clingy couple sitting right across from Marco, he noticed someone sliding past the glass doors. He let out a jagged breath, his throat suddenly feeling too dry.
Amelia Jones was too much for Marco to handle.
* * *
Marco withdrew his sunglasses from his jeans pocket and put them on. Sliding into his black Mercedes, he hit the engine, pushed hard at the pedal, and sped into the city. He was well away from her car, at least enough so that she couldn’t notice him in her rear mirror.
Amelia Jones was a strange woman. Unlike all the previous women Marco had encountered, she hadn’t fallen head over heels for him. Was it the other way around? Marco couldn’t say. He’d tried reading her mind in the library, but her willpower had proved too strong, and Marco’s mind was unusually blocked. Some wolf members had done that too before…but never a human.
And right now, as Marco chased her secretly, he didn’t know whether he was doing it to retrieve the wolf, or to simply…follow her. His stomach twisted in perplexity. It was a highly odd feeling. One he’d never experienced before, and to be very honest, Marco didn’t know how to react to it.
As Amelia’s car closed upon her destination, Marco felt an evil feeling wash him. This sudden rush of emotion was similar to the one Marco had felt back in the alley where he slew those grotesque. Like some evil magic was at play.
Discomfort tugging at his senses, Marco quickly parked his car a good ten miles away from hers and got out. It was late afternoon, and the sun had lost itself behind the clouds. Amelia’s apartment building stood in pale darkness. Marco looked at her with keen eyes.
Something was odd.
Marco could sense it in the air. He could feel his body intensely twitching as if wanting to transform. He’d gotten quite close to her now. Amelia’s car had pulled over, and now she was sliding out. However, instead of walking up to her apartment, she made her way to the book store next to it. There was a narrow lane right next to it and Marco hurried towards it.
While Amelia shopped, Marco patiently waited. Right there, in the arms of the gathering darkness, Marco had no clue what he intended to do after she exited. Follow her to her apartment, and then murder her? For a second, and probably for the first time in his entire life, Marco felt discomfort at the thought of murder. It felt unnecessary. However, denying the Wolf Mage’s orders was no less than treason, and thus Marco was left with no choice.
Confused and deeply upset by the idea, he could feel his stomach twisting. Scratching the back of his neck in thought, he craned his head back when a man caught his eye. Dressed in tight pants and a black vest with a silver chain glinting at his neck, the man looked like a complete punk. As he edged closer into the light, Marco’s breath hitched.
He was a part werewolf.
But before that was absurd, that was impossible. Totally impossible. In this world, you could either be a human or a wolf. Not half of both. Marco’s brows knitted in confusion. The part werewolf was closing up on the shop. A crowd of people was gathered near the glass window, admiring a new book release. Amelia strolled out of the store. The man edged near.
Marco lurched forward.
***
Amelia was fingering her brand-new book in the shopper, when a hand pressed against her lips, pulling her body into the narrow grimy lane. She wanted to scream. The grip around her mouth was too firm, and as Amelia tried to wriggle her body away, an arm pulled her even closer to the darkness. Her back was to a man’s chest, head colliding into his smooth shoulders. Amelia shuddered. Disgusted and annoyed, she closed her eyes, mustering all her tiny strength, and bit the man’s hand sharply.
He let out a low groan, pulling his hand back hastily. “Ow!”
Amelia turned sharply at the sound of his voice. Her eyes grew wide in shock. “You again!” She poked her finger squarely in his chest, struggling to get away, but found his arms too tight. He jerked his arm again, wrapping her body up as if trying to protect her from something. Marco smelled of ashwood and pine. There was also a tinge of smoke.
“Will you stop acting like a kid?” He said through ground teeth. Amelia glanced his way and caught a muscle twitching in his sharp jaw. His thick brows furrowed, and his gray eyes fixed on something ahead. Amelia slumped her shoulders. His grip at her waist relaxed, and Amelia jumped at her chance.
Shooting out of his arms, she dashed ahead with her feet stumbling in panic. She slammed right into a massive body. Taking a step back, she found a monster grinning at her as his sharply pointed teeth caught the light. Amelia’s feet buckled under her. The beast brought a hairy hand to her cheek with his ashen lips pulling back into a cunning smile.
“Let’s get you to your home, darling.” Amelia shuddered under his gross touch. When she opened her mouth to let out a blood-curling scream, her breath froze in her chest.
Marco had slid out of the shadows. The monster’s face fell.
“Wolf Mage of the Woods of Wakerlin,” the monster’s voice trembled. “What are you doing to Arkshire?” He glanced in Amelia’s direction, and his mouth grew into a sneer. “Of course. Does Wolf Mage finally know it?”
Marco’s eyes narrowed to slits. Amelia had never seen him look so enraged. And when he spoke, his voice was ice cold, “Know what?”
“Ahh,” the monster continued grinning, “The Wolf Mage is ill-informed. Well, trek away,” he said, waving his hand, and shifting his attention back to Amelia, “I have business to attend to.”
“You should know your place,” Marco finally smirked, eyes still cold, “teil werewolf. The only business you have is with Death.”
And before the monster could respond, a shining blade sliced through the air, slitting his throat. His massive body tumbled to the ground.
Suddenly, Amelia’s body felt too cold. Her eyes were petrified, and her feet rooted to the spot. For a few long moments, she simply stood there with her gaze stuck on the face. Then Marco’s voice tore her out from her trance. Making her come back to reality.
“You should head back home. It’s getting dark.”
Amelia spun slowly on her heels, her mind still dizzy. He was leaning against the streetlight, his body thrown into thick shadows as the sun dipped into the horizon behind him. Orange light splayed across his angular face in thin lines, setting his features on fire. Amelia felt her stomach twist at the sight. She closed her eyes to his intense look and scratched her nose.
“Thank you,” she said, looking back at him. He nodded. Stuffing his fingers into his jeans pockets, he walked over to her. His body was not swallowed by the shadows and his lovely hair fell loose for her to see. Amelia gulped.
“What for?” He said, a careful expression gleaming off his smooth face.
“That monster back there,” Amelia stammered, lifting her finger to the werewolf’s head. “What did you call it?”
“Teil werewolf. It’s what we call a part werewolf. Though, I’ve never seen one before.”
“We?”
Marco’s gaze drifted away, his face falling again int
o shadow. “I mean – the wolf community.”
“Why was he chasing me?”
Marco pressed his lips together. “That's exactly the part that bothers me too, and I intend to find that soon."
A long silence stretched between them. Amelia pondered over everything he said, and then spoke, “Thank you, Marco. I don’t know what that monster would’ve done to me.”
Chapter 3
Two days later…
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?
“Oh, good grief,” Reyna gasped, “stop the car!”
Mason hit the brakes so hard that Marco almost went forward flying. The car screeched to a halt. Reyna practically threw herself out of the car and towards a stumbling figure in the distance. Fucking hell, it was Amelia.
Marco ran after Reyna and watched as she reached Amelia in time just to catch her from hitting the ground. He ran faster, but the closer he got, the more unfamiliar she looked. She was bleary-eyed, her hair patted back and wrapped in a messy bun, and livid bruises ran the length of her jaw. A flash of pain shot up Marco's spine as he watched her in horror.
A feeling he had banished so long ago rose to the surface. Anger. Pure, hot, boiling anger teetering over the edge of his eye-lids, and he knew he was going to accidentally kill the person who did this to her without remorse.
“Marco,” Reyna called out to him, her voice stern, “Right now, she needs you to focus on her.”
Reyna was right. He leaped to the ground, right beside her, arm cradling her neck, gently pulling a stray strand of hair away from her face.
“Miss Jones,” he said gently, “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah…” she whispered hoarsely, “I’m…I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he breathed, restraining his anger. He lifted Amelia in his arms and went straight for the car with Reyna at his side. She was so frail and so soft. His chest filled with a familiar sense of warmth he hadn’t felt in so long as he carried her to his car. It was enough to quell the anger, but only slightly. Once he knew Amelia was in safe hands, he would go back to confront whoever it was who had done this to her.
"Miss Jones, " he whispered, "you'll be alright, okay? Just hang tight."
She let out small puffs of breath, her tongue too dry to roll words.
Chapter 4
Amelia couldn’t tell where she was. All she saw was a lot of white and gray. But it was cozy, wherever she was, and it felt so…so safe. Odd. She had never felt like this in a very long time. She almost wanted to go back to sleep and relish in whatever leftover dream was playing in her head.
“Miss Jones.” The voice sounded so faint and far away, “Are you feeling better?”
Amelia blinked against the white light, hands shielding her eyes, and everything came into focus. And she saw him. His face. His eyes. Her hand was wrapped in his hand.
Oh, God!
Amelia sat upright with a jerk.
“Hey, hey!” he said, placing his hands on her shoulder. Her neck heated up at his touch. It was such a firm hold, but still gentle like she was delicate glass and could break. Well, maybe she could considering her-wait a minute.
She looked at herself in the mirror behind him, shocked.
“I thought my face would be terribly bruised,” She wondered aloud, bewildered, “How is it okay?”
“I understand it might be strange to-”
“Oh, my Lord.” She finally realized it in horror, realization dawning upon her. “How long was I knocked out?!”
“What?” he looked confused for a second, “Oh, no, no, it’s only been around an hour or so. You must be fine now, though. Please lie back down, or you’ll get dizzy.”
He was right. She was getting dizzy, but Amelia wasn’t sure if it was her weakened state or his scent that was driving her to a high she had never known before. He smelled like smoke and wood, but with a tint of warm honey that enveloped her whole body in comfort.
So much comfort.
His hands guided her back to the pillows, his warm and big hand brushing over her cheek
softly. It felt nice.
She couldn’t help the way her face dipped into his palm. But she caught herself. He must have thought she was too strangely comfortable around his presence, but she was met with surprise as his thumb stroked her cheek.
“You were beaten up badly, Miss Jones,” his voice washed over her skin, electrifying and deep.
"Please call me Amelia," she said, as she struggled against meeting gazes with him. There was something powerful in his eyes that gripped all her senses every time she locked gazes with him. It was intoxicating yet magical.
He smiled. "Amelia, can you please tell us what happened?”
Flashbacks.
She suddenly didn’t want to be touched anymore. She turned away from Marco immediately, wrapping her arms around herself. Instantly, she scrambled to her feet, ready to leave.
“Marco,” a woman said gently, “maybe I should take it from here.”
“But Reyna-”
“Trust me.”
Marco sighed, sounding like a disgruntled child. He walked past Amelia mumbling under his breath. She caught something about how he was sure he had enough empathy. Marco walked past the curtains pulled across the room, dividing Amelia from himself and whatever was behind it. She looked at Reyna, a tall and elegant woman with raven black hair and soft nude lipstick, eyes grey like a storm. But her smile was sweet, and Amelia felt like she could trust her. She walked over and sat on the chair beside the bed Amelia was sitting moments ago, reaching out to touch her arm.
“I was the one that caught you,” she explained.
“I remember,” Amelia said with a nod, “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” she shook her head, “but we need to know what happened, Amelia. The state you were in was terrible.”
Amelia sighed. She might as well tell her since she saw her and went out of her way to help.
“My husband,” Amelia started, trying to keep her voice from cracking, “I’ve been trying to leave him for a while. I brought up wanting a divorce at breakfast when my son left for school. I just couldn’t take it; him belittling and hitting me all the time. It slipped from my mouth. Not like this hasn’t happened before, but I can’t seem to get used to it.”