The Tracker's Secret: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 2) by Ingrid Seymour (rm book recommendations TXT) 📕

there is nothing that can stop her. Nothing that will keep her caged for much longer. Except, of course, Toni herself by learning how to control the shift, a particularly difficult task in cases like hers. If she doesn’t do anything soon, things could reach critical mass.”

“How can she learn to control it?” Rosalina asked as I struggled to process everything he’d said.

“I already told her. She needs to find one of her kind who can guide her. Somebody willing to put themselves through the ordeal.”

“Put themselves through the ordeal?” I echoed.

“Oh, yes. It won’t be an easy matter. It could take weeks, months even.”

“Months?! I don’t have that kind of time. I have a life to live, a business to run.”

“Take that up with your mother, love. I’m not to blame for any of this.”

I stood up abruptly and slapped my hands on the counter. The stool scraped the floor and teetered, though it didn’t fall.

“That’s bullshit.” I growled. “You’re almost as guilty as she is. You enabled her, allowed her to lie to me, to my father. You could have said no.”

He shrugged. “She was pretty convincing.”

He got the bagel out of the toaster oven and, turning back toward us and placing his breakfast on the island, proceeded to apply a thick layer of cream cheese on each slice, followed by grape jelly. Then, he took a hefty bite. He wasn’t going to tell me anything.

“Why the hell did you leave your card behind if you didn’t plan on talking to me?”

“Um,” he lifted his index finger as he slowly chewed. “Yes, indeed,” he mumbled, taking a Mason jar from one of the open shelves and walking to the pot on the stove.

With the ladle, he scooped some of whatever he was cooking and poured it inside the jar. Chunky, brown liquid splattered inside. When he was done, he gingerly transferred the hot jar to the island and set it in front of me.

“This will help,” he said.

I stared at the steaming contents, wrinkling my nose. An awful smell wafted from the jar and quickly filled the room.

Rosalina leaned in to peer at it. “What is it? It smells delicious, and it’s so pretty.”

Huh? I gave her a sidelong glance. Was her sniffer broken? It smelled like shit. Literally. Looked like it. too.

She hopped down from her stool and walked closer, her hand reaching for the jar. I grabbed her wrist and held her back.

“Appearances and smells can be deceiving,” I said with a pointed look.

Rosalina snatched her hand back, looking freaked out. “I’m so stupid,” she blurted out, shooting death rays at the mage.

He gave her a disarming smile that made her frown disappear. Oh, God. This wasn’t good. My friend couldn’t buy into this guy’s antics.

Pushing those fears aside, I focused on Damien.

“Why would you give me... poop?” I demanded.

Damien laid a hand on his chest as if injured. “That, young mutt, is a powerful potion.”

Young mutt?!

That was it! Anger sizzled through me like fire, and the next thing I knew my claws broke the surface. I growled and felt my wolf bursting with satisfaction. I was going to tear the fucking mage to pieces.

Chapter 9

FOR ONCE, I WAS GLAD for my fangs and claws. Mage or not, I would gut him and hang his intestines around his neck like a Christmas garland.  I licked my lips with relish.

Uh, wait a minute! What’s wrong with me?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing, the wild part of me shot back.

My stomach turned at the bloody, non-festive image that materialized inside my head. I had never, in my entire life, wished to kill anyone, much less in such a gruesome way. I took a step back, grabbing my head between my clawed hands. The Toni that had always been me fought against this new, emerging one that seemed bent on erasing me.

“Toni, what’s wrong?” Rosalina reached a hand in my direction, and I slapped it away. She brought it back to her chest, looking injured and scared.

I was losing it, and this time I would not be able to stop the transformation. I had to get out of here before I hurt someone. My head snapped from side to side, searching for an exit. I felt trapped, ready to detonate.

With an annoyed sigh, Damien walked around the island and marched toward me.

“Stay away from me.” My voice was the deep growl of a three-packs-a-day dude with thick hair on his chest.

Despite the scary voice, Damien didn’t stop and kept coming at me with determination. I crouched, ready to slice him open and turn him into a gruesome holiday ornament. He stopped a few paces away from my reach and shook his head with pity. My anger redoubled.

“Oh, God!” Rosalina exclaimed, her tone almost unrecognizable with fear and horror.

Instinct took over, and I went for him, aiming for his softer middle. In my mind, I almost felt my claws tearing into him, cutting through skin and organs, but it was only wishful thinking because he moved easily, faster than I was able to track, and laid a punch across my jaw that snapped my head backward. My neck whiplashed, sending a jolt of pain down my spine. I cried out, my face throbbing and ears ringing.

“You beast,” Rosalina yelled, coming up behind me and cradling me in her arms as I went down. She eased my fall, setting me on the cold floor.

White stars flashed all around my head.

“Why would you hit her?” she demanded, smoothing hair away from my face. She peered down at me, her green eyes full of concern, none of the horror I’d heard in her voice left in her expression.

“She’s back to normal, isn’t she?” Damien walked away nonchalantly, straightening his T-shirt.

I lifted my hands and stared at them. The claws had disappeared and so had the feeling that I was about to become a fur coat. I rubbed my jaw, wiggling it around. It hurt but not nearly as bad as