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

left side stung as if someone had poured acid on it. Stephen squirmed underneath me and reared up, glancing around. I curled into a tight cocoon, wincing at the pain. White lights flashed before my eyes, and I struggled to focus. I blinked, staring at my arm to see what was causing such terrible pain. When my eyes finally cleared, and I stared at my arm, horror struck me.

The skin from my wrist to my elbow looked like angry-red bubble wrap. Blisters oozed blood, popping as they swelled. I growled in pain, my teeth bared, my stomach churning at the sight. Panicked cries from the other customers filled the room.

“Someone call the police,” a waitress yelled.

Stephen turned to me, and seeing my arm, winced. “Oh, Toni. You shouldn’t have. You’ll be all right. I promise.”

He rose to his feet, and staying low, dragged me across the room to a safe corner behind an empty table. I gritted my teeth against the pain that shivered down my entire left side. I didn’t dare inspect the rest of my body, but from the way it felt, my imagination pictured it like a slab of ground meat.

Stephen turned away from me, his blue eyes shining with their own light, his body quivering as he prepared to shift. “Stay here.”

Like I could go anywhere.

There was a loud bang followed by a crash. I peeked from behind the table to find our attacker bursting in through the front door. Patrons shrieked and pulled back into their hiding places.

“Damn Skews!” a man to my right exclaimed as he pulled out his phone, presumably to dial 911. He threw me a dirty look as he waited for someone to answer. I would’ve given him the finger if my body didn’t hurt so much. One Skew shouldn’t give all others a bad name. If I judged all Stales by Jeffrey Dahmer, where would that leave them?

My gaze snapped back to Stephen as he let out a guttural growl. The back of his jacket and shirt split down the middle revealing powerful, furred shoulders. His pants went next, and as he shook his tattered clothes off, a magnificent brown wolf was left behind. He’d shifted so quickly and gracefully, I barely perceived his limbs morphing from human to animal. The creature was massive, almost as big as Jake’s wolf.

He growled at the mage who stood by the door. Our attacker was whirling his hands again, readying another sizzling spell. He had spiked red hair. His eyes glowed blue, marking him as a mid-level mage. A worn leather cloak hung heavily behind him. I recognized him immediately. He was the mage who attacked me in Elf-hame.

Without waiting for another attack to come, the wolf lowered his head and leaped toward the mage, covering the distance between them in a couple of wide gallops. I held my breath as Stephen soared through the air. Even as the bigass wolf flew at him, the mage stood his ground without blinking, and in the last instant, released a new magical attack, thrusting it right at Stephen’s chest.

“No!” I cried out as the spell struck him and sent him flying on top of a table. His fur burned down to the skin, releasing an acrid smell that quickly filled the air and overpowered the scent of spices and tomato sauce.

Stephen whimpered and trembled, sliding off the table and hitting the floor with a thud. His limbs and tail twitched as he lay there, and his now-bare skin began to blister.

Oh, God.

I wished for my gun, so I could shoot the mage bastard, but it was tucked in a drawer in the office where I had left it, hoping I wouldn’t need it again. Talk about wishful thinking. It seemed Stephen’s kidnappers weren’t done with him, and now they’d sent someone to kill him.

Smirking, the mage walked in Stephen’s direction, sending chairs and tables out of the way with a flick of his wrist. He glowered at the twitching wolf with disdain, then twisted his hands into another spell, the killing blow.

I glared at my hands, willing my claws to come to the surface. If I could shift now, I would be able to help Stephen. But despite my anger and frustration, nothing happened.

Really, Red? All morning you’ve been itching to come out and now you chicken out? Why?!

The mage’s mouth twisted with contempt as he prepared to unleash death on Stephen.

I struggled to my feet, teeth clenched against the pain, and limped out of my hiding place.

“Leave him alone, you coward,” I spat.

He surveyed me, appearing annoyed. “‘Coward isn’t a word the weak have a right to use on the strong,” he said.

Clearly, he had forgotten about the ass whooping I gave him in Elf-hame. I was surprised he wasn’t singing soprano after I punched his balls into his throat.

He pulled his crackling hand back and, with a quick flick of his wrist, released the magic he’d prepared for Stephen and sent it flying in my direction.

Screams rose all around me. Time slowed to a crawl as I stared wide-eyed at the fiery ball of magic whizzing toward me.

I’m dead.

That was the only thought that crossed my mind, though my instincts flexed of their own accord, and I ducked out of the way, never taking my eyes off the swirling energy.

I stared in wonder as it passed by a few inches above my head. The magic slammed against the wall, destroying a picture of two juicy tomatoes on a cutting board. I staggered sideways and held onto a nearby table as bits of the wooden frame exploded outward.

My head snapped back toward the mage. His expression let me know how pissed he was, though he didn’t seem surprised that I’d evaded his attack. I, on the other hand, stood in shock, my jaw hanging open. How the hell had I moved so quickly?

With a dismissive grunt, the mage turned his attention back on Stephen and prepared a brand-new attack.

“No!” I yelled as he unleashed