The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) by Ingrid Seymour (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

why I was in bed while Stephen was out there, his life on the balance. What did he think of my silence?

A heavy hand landed on me. It wrapped entirely around my shoulder.

Jake.

The bed dipped, then he pulled me, forcing me to face him. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, the shame of my failure mixing with the shame of my vulnerable state. Tears filled my eyes, and the next thing I knew, his arms slid around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I fit into his arms in a familiar, practiced way, and suddenly it was just Jake and me. I lay my head on his muscular chest as he stroked my hair, his warmth and strength feeling like a force field around me. I instinctively took a deep breath, hoping to find comfort in his scent, which was imprinted in my mind like a seal. It was unlike anything else I’d ever sensed: strong, masculine, maddening, and known to turn me on faster than flipping on a light switch. But despite a hefty lungful of air, I smelled nothing.

My heart ached, and the tears that had gathered in my eyes spilled onto my cheeks. For a moment, I feared I might start sobbing like a baby right in his arms, but no more tears came. Somehow—since the last time I’d cried, which had been for him—I’d become stronger. It still hurt, the broken heart, and unanswered questions, but I no longer needed to melt into a puddle of tears because of him.

Instead, I simply accepted the comfort of his touch and found that forgiveness was a possibility. Jake wasn’t a monster. Like I’d told Rosalina, he wasn’t a bad guy. He had been good before, and I could see that he hadn’t changed. He had his reasons for leaving me, and though he’d hurt me deeply, he’d taught me a valuable lesson.

Strength and self-love are just as important, or perhaps more, than the love we feel for others. If you can’t take care of yourself first, how in the hell can you take care of others?

Jake held me for a long time, his fingers tracing circles on my back. My hands remained at my sides. I was afraid of touching him, to feel the peaks and valleys of his torso, the latent strength in his muscles. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn’t smell him, hear him, see him.

This was nothing but a moment of weakness that I could later forgive myself.

SOMETIME LATER, SMALL sounds popped around me, and a faded light glowed against my eyelids. The weak smell of roses tickled my nose as I swam in a state between sleep and wakefulness.

A cold hand pressed to my forehead.

“Hey, Toni the Tiger, how are you feeling?” Rosalina’s voice entered my consciousness, faint as if she stood far away.

I opened my eyes. She sat next to me, blurry around the edges. My senses had started to come back, but just barely.

A candle burned on the night table, the source of the light and pleasant scent. Rosalina always made sure to welcome me back in the best way possible. She was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I was so lucky to have her.

“I’m okay,” I said, then I remembered that Jake had been here. I scrambled to a sitting position. “Jake... he knows... he—”

“Shh, it’s all right.” Rosalina patted my hand. “He doesn’t suspect,” she said in a whisper, close to my ear. “He just thinks you were distraught.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, lay back down and rest. It’s late.”

I lay back down, relieved. I didn’t want to have to explain myself to Jake or anyone else. The way my skill worked felt more personal than ever, something I was willing to share only with those I trusted most.

I took a deep breath and relaxed into my pillow. Given my state, sleeping was the most sensible thing I could do, so I let myself doze off again.

Chapter 24

The next time I opened my eyes, my senses had fully returned. I was alone in the room, and it was dark outside. Everything looked sharper around the edges, brighter in color, real. I squinted at the alarm clock on the night table. It read 11:17 PM. I had been asleep for way more than five hours.

My stomach rumbled. I had missed lunch and dinner, and I was a wimp when it came to missing mere snacks, especially when that intense hunger hit me. I got out of bed, scratching my itchy arm, and quietly patted out of the room. I headed straight for the kitchen. Rosalina had left the range light on, and I had to smile when I saw a plate on the table. It held a sandwich, covered in plastic wrap, a banana, and a bag of chips. I went to the refrigerator, poured a glass of milk, and returned to the table, ready to eat. I was ravenous.

I was about to sit when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I started and raised the glass of milk as if it were a weapon. What did I think that would do? Give the intruder calcium poisoning? Death by milk wasn’t a thing, or was it? A pair of eyes flashed in the darkness from the living room. My heart went into insane mode, pounding against my rib cage like a giant’s fist.

“It’s just me,” Jake’s deep voice came from the darkness.

He approached slowly, the light from the kitchen gradually revealing his tall frame.

“You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”

As he came fully into the light, I took him in. He was wearing unbuttoned jeans and a wife-beater that clung tightly to his muscular torso and left his rounded shoulders and perfectly shaped biceps out for inspection. He was barefoot and his light brown hair stood on end.

“Rosalina let me stay on the couch,” he said.

“She did?”

That little traitor. She and I