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

vamp only managed to lightly rake his claws along my stomach before Jake took him out.

“Besides,” Rosalina went on, “the Ericksons are a powerful family. They can find Stephen themselves.”

“I...”

“You. Promised. Your. Self,” she reminded me again.

I inhaled sharply and sat up straight. “You’re right. Something like this would derail us completely.”

“Riiight, and if you ruin what we’ve got going on here,” she moved her hands all about to indicate our office, “I swear I’m gonna get Abuela Esperanza to exorcise you ‘cause if you go back to that shit, it would mean the spirit of stupidity possessed you.”

Rosalina’s Grandma Esperanza had exorcised her share of demons in her prime. Her talent had been special, but since she’d married a Stale, none had passed to Rosalina or her mother.

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” I stood, holding my hands up to fend her off. “You’re right, and that’s exactly why you’re here, to keep me from doing dumb shit.”

“Damn right!”

I pointed toward my office. “I’ll get to work on that potion for Celina. That’ll keep me distracted.”

“Yeah, you do that, and I’ll go to the bank to deposit the check, and grab us lunch from Mama’s on the way back. Sound good?”

“Perfect. Grab me some fried ravioli, will ya?”

“That’s my girl.” She winked and left with a skip in her step.

In the potions alcove, I gathered all the ingredients around the two-quart slow cooker and set to work. I started with four ounces of distilled water, wishing the other ingredients were as easy to get. But no. Some even came from other realms, and I could only purchase them from Fae providers at a steep price.

After the distilled water, I followed with carefully-measured Pixie dust, seven-continent cloudmist, windblown mint leaves, and volcanic ash. Earth, water, wind, and fire, respectively. The Pixie dust wasn’t the make-you-fly kind, just plain dust from their tiny bedframes and armoires. What a rip off!

As I dropped in the last ingredient, I couldn’t argue that potion making was witchy. Just the reason Stales called me a witch sometimes, even though the two were as different as a Chihuahua and a werewolf. Some witches could track, true, but never as well as a specialized tracker like me.

I shook the dregs of Pixie dust in its container. I would soon have to visit Yalgrun for more. Good thing Celina had been generous with her trust fund. The potion ingredients cost a fortune, so much that a spell protected the alcove—one my mother had cast. She was good at them.

Finally, Celina’s tears. I used a long glass dropper to draw them out of the vial and counted. As the seventh tear splashed in, I held my breath. I’d had several brews go bad in the past. But when the potion started shimmering crimson, releasing the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies into the air, I did a little dance. The smell was always something pleasant like that, either one of Celina’s or her mate’s favorite treats. My sense of smell was way above average, an unusual but welcomed skill. I could pinpoint scents with accuracy which helped tremendously during the tracking trance.

Still dancing, I covered the slow cooker and set it to low. It would have to simmer for at least twelve hours. With that done, I left the alcove and decided to call the realtor with my good news. I would have no trouble getting approved for a loan now. I had enough for a down payment for that cute condo. I was about to press send on my cell phone when the hammering next door started up again.

“Shit!” My jaw clenched as each blow seemed to drive a nail into my temple.

I waited for a minute. Then two. The hammering continued, and my eye began twitching. I had another customer after lunch, and I couldn’t have this idiot start this up then. What if it’d happened right before Celina shed her reluctant tears?

Nope. Not doing that.

I marched out of my office and walked next door. I peered inside through the glass-paneled door, but couldn’t see anyone. Pulling on the handle, I found the door open. I let myself in.

“Hello,” I called over the incessant hammering.

No one responded.

“Of course,” I mumbled under my breath.

I pushed past the reception area, which looked a lot like ours, walked through the door at the back, and halted.

A man wearing a tight white T-shirt and tighter blue jeans stood with his back to me, attacking the posterior sheetrock wall as if he meant to kill it, which I guessed he did since part of it already lay dead on the dusty hardwood floor.  Dust clogged the air. I waved it away for a better look.

The man was tall, about 6’2”, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Sweat covered his neck, which trickled downward causing the shirt to stick to his muscular back. And his butt was... well, I didn’t think there were words to describe it. Perfect, maybe? My mouth watered as I admired it.

Then, his scent registered in my hypersensitive nose, stirring an avalanche of memories, and a thrill ran up my spine. Panic burst inside my chest. That heady scent and my mouth... it had never watered at the sight of any man, no matter how hot, except...

I have to get out of here!

I took a step back to flee, but too late.

The hammering had stopped, and he was turning to face me.

Jacob Knight was back.

Chapter 5

We stared at each other for a long minute without saying a word.

His gaze held mine with such intensity that I couldn’t have glanced away even if I’d tried. Almost eighteen months ago, Jake had walked out of my life without leaving the smallest trace behind, and now without a warning, he was back.

He was more handsome than ever, broader, more rugged, his muscles honed to perfection. His light brown hair sported a different style, short on the sides, and messy on top. Perfectly-trimmed stubble edged his jaw, and