“I’ll be right in,” I tell her.
I go back into my car to grab my purse and put it on cross body. I have my hand inside it, gripping the can of bear mace inside because something is definitely weird about all this, her attitude included.
I step into the store and she’s on the phone with a strange look in her eyes as she tracks me coming inside.
“Almost her double. Brunette though,” she mutters into the phone.
I meet her eyes with challenge.
“Who’s that? And where’s my fucking sister?”
“I was just on the phone with someone who’s coming here to talk to you. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. Who’s coming here? Is it Tyson Savage?”
“No. It’s someone else, but he’ll be able to help.”
5
Mason
I’ve been pacing for the half hour that’s passed since that call. I’m questioning myself. Trying to decide if I should hunt down this girl.
Amelia.
My mind has been racing, racing because of the sensations I felt at the sound of her voice. And swirling around the fact that she’s Ivy’s sister.
My wolf has been pacing, too, wanting to take in the scent behind that voice. Badly.
The phone rings again, caller ID listing it’s our general store. I’m about to let it go to voicemail, but catch a new scent in the air that makes my knees buckle before my cock turns to steel.
I hesitate, bracing with a palm against the wall, wondering if things are about to make sense. I briefly mull over whether or not I should follow my nose. Very briefly because my gut is telling me the new aroma has to be the girl on the phone. That aroma belongs to the Amelia that phoned me. I don’t question my instincts – not ever – except now because of all that’s happened the past week.
The scent isn’t the same as what I smelled from Tyson’s mate. But I know they’re related. And I’m thinking, is she the one? Correction: The One.
The fact that I haven’t felt right for a week weighs on me. Though, for the past half an hour it’s felt different. Much different. Almost like I’ve been gathering my bearings again, like puzzle pieces are fitting into place. But I don’t know that I trust it. Not yet.
After answering Cicely’s phone call on the third ring, she hesitantly asks for Riley and then she’s hesitating some more before I order her to spit it out.
There’s a girl there. Nearly the spitting image of Ivy, but brunette. Asking for Tyson.
“Keep her there. I’m on my way,” I say.
And it feels like everything is about to be right.
***
When I pull up to the general store, I see a pearl white Nissan Rogue parked beside the door and not only do I know it’s hers, I already know – she’s mine.
Without a doubt. I feel it in every cell in my body. That scent. That scent belongs to my mate.
As I get out of my truck, which has been mysteriously working just fine since it broke down, the door to the store opens and not only do I get assaulted by her scent at full-strength, I also get an eyeful of her.
Curvy, a few years younger than me. Dark brown wavy hair that’s halfway down her back. She storms out, Cicely on her heels.
And immediately, my sense of self, my human side and my wolf side snap into place – the right place.
No, it still doesn’t make sense that I was confused about Ivy, but that pales in comparison to this sensation, pales so underwhelmingly that it no longer factors.
When an Alpha knows his mate, he knows it. No confusion.
Setting eyes on her for the first time, I’m struck with something stronger to alpha wolf shifters than anything. It’s stronger than the urge to run. Than the urge to eat. Drink. Sleep. It’s primal need. To claim. Claim, bite, mark, rut, and knot.
She’s stunning.
Flawless skin, perfect pink mouth, an hourglass figure, wearing skin-tight jeans, a pink double-breasted jacket, ample cleavage on display peeking from a pink blouse, a black leather bag on cross-body and a can of something in her right hand that she points in Cicely’s direction, trigger finger on the nozzle.
Cicely was trying to stop her from leaving and she’s ready to defend herself.
Amelia’s head turns and she looks directly at me with angry blue eyes. They’re so piercing, they cut straight through me from a hundred feet away as she eyes me while moistening those full pink lips with her tongue.
She smells better than anything that’s ever hit my nose.
She’s mine.
I don’t know how, why, or what the fuck has been going wrong, but: the fog has evaporated, the agitation is also gone, the confusion has lifted, and I’m filled with absolute certainty - I’ve found her.
No confusion. Zero doubt. This is my woman.