The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1)

by Ingrid Seymour

  “They were frozen blueberries. They don’t mutate. They just shrivel away, but they looked fine.”

  “I bought them during my smoothie craze. I’m surprised.”

  “One of them did jump off the counter calling out Geronimo,” I joked.

  Rosalina laughed her goofy laugh that must have some sort of magical qualities because it always cheered me up no matter what was going on in my life.

  Together we washed the dishes and put everything back in place. After that, she gave my hair a quick trim to get rid of the damage the explosion had caused.

  We each had two cups of coffee before we started talking about work and customers. Yesterday evening, she’d gotten messages out to two clients and canceled our appointments. She’d also cleared my schedule for tomorrow since we didn’t know what effect today’s tracking might have on me.

  When I finally gathered the courage to get started, I went into the bedroom. Three more days. That was all Stephen had. I’d gotten all the rest I needed. Now, it was time to act.

  “Should I expect Jake bursting through the door?” Rosalina asked as I made myself comfortable in the middle of the bed.

  I shook my head. “He’ll stay away. I told him I would call him.” I glanced at my phone on the night table. “He might get impatient and call before I’m done, though. If he shows up, please make sure he stays away while I’m recovering.”

  Rosalina gave me a raised eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips. “I can’t stop that man if he decides to come in here. I tried before. He was like a freaking tornado tearing through the apartment.”

  I laughed. “I’m sorry. I told him he was out of place, but he should be better now that he’s getting what he wants.” That made him sound selfish, so I added. “He’s not a bad guy.”

  I don’t know what made me say that. For the past year and a half, I’d thought of him as nothing but selfish and low. Why did I feel the need to defend him now?

  “Girl, don’t let his hotness get in the way of your judgment.”

  “Do you think I’m doing that?”

  It was an honest question. I felt I couldn’t trust myself around Jake. When he looked at me, it was as if he’d cast out a net, and I, like a stupid fish, got caught in it every single time. His spellbinding eyes seemed to pull me to him and turned me into a little moon that revolved around his entire world. It was pathetic.

  “Honestly?” Rosalina’s face pinched tightly as if she didn’t want to answer.

  “Honestly.”

  She put a hand out and tipped it from side to side. “Kind of.”

  I deflated. “I swear I’m trying my best, but I don’t know what it is about him. It’s been like that ever since I’ve known him, which is pretty much my entire lifetime. I would see him walking down the halls in school, and I would forget whatever I was doing. Like he was a damn, mental eraser. Whoosh, everything gone.”

  “Was there drool?”

  “Definitely.”

  We both laughed.

  Rosalina sat at the edge of the bed, growing serious. “Is it because he’s a werewolf? I’ve heard shifters can be... I don’t know... entrancing to certain women.”

  “Maybe, but why me?” I whined, punching the mattress with closed fists. “Hand me that cufflink. It’ll take me out of this misery.”

  It would send me into a different type of misery, but at this point, I honestly didn’t know which was worse. Rosalina pressed the cufflink into my palm, closed my fingers around it, and patted my hand. “Try not to go too deep, okay? Pull out if it’s taking too long.”

  I nodded and watched her leave and close the door behind her. Nerves stirred in my stomach, making me feel nauseous. Maybe eating all those pancakes had been a bad idea.

  The cufflink poked my palm as I tightened my hold on it. I closed my eyes, trying to focus, but the ball of dread that had made itself comfortable in my chest since I decided to get involved grew to epic proportions as I tried to push myself into the trance.

  I opened my eyes, confused. I never looked forward to this, but this dread was unlike anything I’d ever felt. Was I afraid of the aftermath? Or of what I would find out?

  What if Stephen was dead?

  I had tried to track a dead person once before, and I never could forget how it felt to go in and find nothing. Nothing at all. The vast, unending blankness had stripped me of all my emotions until I felt raw with the knowledge of only one thing...

  Cold, unforgiving emptiness.

  I didn’t want to feel that again. It was one of the reasons I preferred to be a mate tracker. There was always someone out there who could make another one happy, so I never had to face that emptiness.

  I shook my head.

  He’s not dead.

  If he was dead, they wouldn’t be threatening to cut his head off, would they? They wouldn’t be making demands that Ulfen couldn’t meet. There seemed to be a hole in that logic, but I had to believe he was still alive.

  I sighed. No use in postponing the inevitable. I had already agreed to this, and I wouldn’t back out. I clasped my hands together around the cufflink and let my power flow. Green magic sprang from my fingers and whirled around my hands. This was different from mate tracking, easier because I had something of Stephen’s.

  I closed my eyes. This time there was no glittery world, just blackness. No potion, no sparkles. Gradually, I released my senses... Scent first, as always.

  Immediately, a pleasantly sweet, warm scent surrounded me. The smell was familiar in a way, yet I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, which bothered me the more I tried to pick up its subtleties. Underneath this scent, I tried to find others, but this one was overpowering and made it hard to identify anything else. I struggled for several long moments, knowing that the longer I went, the longer my food would taste like cardboard—smell made such a huge difference when trying to enjoy your grub.

  At last, the hint of a few other scents took shape: vanilla and cinnamon and maybe also lavender. Those were the scents I could put a name to, and they could be anything: someone’s perfume, a cinnamon roll, a vanilla latte. They didn’t help.

  Frustrated, I released my sense of hearing next, and the usual cacophony of sounds assaulted me. I listened for several beats, waiting for the racket to die down as I sifted through the different sounds. The noise barely subsided. Some sounds fell away, but most stayed, mainly the constant, unrelenting hum of an engine. In the background, I perceived the drum of traffic, tires against asphalt and gravel, the occasional blare of a horn, the squeal of brakes, the rattle of loose chassis—all diminished by the tireless hum.

  Oddly, just like with the scents, one thing overpowered all others, obscuring what should be the main clues.

  I tried harder to pinpoint unique sounds, like a bell tower, the horn of a basketball game, a certain tune, a voice I might recognize. Nothing like that came to the surface, only that hum. Useless.

  Fear gripped me, knowing what came next. It had been some time since I’d engaged my sight, and I hated to do it. It terrified me. Being deaf was difficult enough, but losing my vision left me feeling as vulnerable as a newborn kitten. I didn’t know how to navigate life without my senses. I was trying to get better at it, but the process was slow. Logically, I knew other people led perfectly capable, self-sufficient lives without them, but there was nothing rational about my fear. It was born of a raw and unadulterated self-preservation instinct.

  Hunkering down, I forced the uneasiness away, knowing this trial would only make me stronger. Gathering all my courage, I released my sense of sight.

  My eyes opened to utter darkness.

  Panic seized me at the complete absence of light.

  I glanced all around, searching for the smallest pinprick of illumination. I found nothing, just absolutely blackness.

  Where are they keeping you, Stephen?

  A room without lights would still have windows, a door. Slivers of light, no matter how thin, would get through, but not here. Wherever Stephen wa
s, his kidnappers had purposely sealed every source of light.

  Frantically, I peered around in every direction, pausing to make sure I didn’t miss something. My heart hammered while the sweet smell, the unrelenting hum of an engine, and the darkness combined to a crescendo of unbearable stimuli. I whirled and whirled, panic mounting, and a sense of dread and disappointment settling on my shoulders.

  For the first time, I had failed to find a known mark, and because of it, Stephen would die.

  Chapter 23

  When I broke out of the trance, utter darkness still surrounded me. For a panicked moment, I feared I’d gotten trapped in that limbo, unable to escape, but it was just the blindness. I sat up with a jerk, my shaking hands flat on the bed in an effort to feel grounded. My breaths came in fast, but I couldn’t hear them. The world was silent, dark, and void of all smells.

  Where am I? Where am I?! The question was irrational, but the panic was real.

  I felt three taps on top of my hand, then the bed dipped. Relieved, I clenched Rosalina’s hand and pressed it to my chest. My heart pounded like the drums of the salsa music she liked to dance to. Sensing my distress, she moved closer and wrapped me in a tight hug, hands smoothing my hair, warm breath brushing my ear in words of comfort that I couldn’t hear.

  “I couldn’t find him,” I sobbed, fighting the knot in my throat, my exhausted body collapsing against her.

  She pulled away, took my hand, and traced several circles in my palm.

  The letter “O”.

  She was trying to tell me it was okay. We had come up with several hand gestures to help us communicate. Nothing fancy, but we could understand each other. She pressed a cool glass to my hand and wrapped my fingers around it. I drank the water greedily until I finished it.

  After she took the glass away, I held both palms up in question. She tapped my left hand five times. I collapsed back on the bed. Five minutes, I’d been under for five minutes, which meant it would take five hours to regain my senses. This was the longest I’d ever been under and for nothing.

  I felt Rosalina’s fingers slide down my chest bone. Sign language for “Hungry?”

  I shook my head.

  Her fingertips alighted on my forehead next, then slid downward gently, gathering at my chin. Sleep.

  “I can’t. I’m too restless. My heart is dancing to some of your salsa music.” She had Cuban roots and grew up speaking Spanish. Odd for someone raised in The Hill with all the Italians around, but her family remained faithful to their origin, which was so cool.

  She repeated the sign. Sleep.

  I sighed. “I’ll try.”

  Rosalina signed on my hand that she was leaving. The bed shifted as she stood, and I imagined her walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

  I knew that time would pass faster if I just slept, but I didn’t think I would be able to—even despite my deep fatigue. I closed my eyes, and even here, on the bed, my mind stirred with the memory of that sweet smell and the unrelenting hum of an engine, and since darkness still surrounded me, I felt as if I were still in the trance.

  You’re not. You’re not. You’re free.

  I touched the bed, my pillow, my face to convince myself. I tossed and turned, willing sleep to come.

  Only five hours. You can sleep for five hours.

  I lay on my back, on my belly, on my side.

  How long has it been? How much longer?

  In this state, I always found it impossible to calculate time. I didn’t know how long had passed when Rosalina came back into the room. She snatched my hand and scribbled something in it, too fast for me to understand.

  “Slow down,” I said.

  She traced a single character on my palm. The letter “J”.

  “Jake?” I said.

  She tapped my palm once for yes.

  “He’s here?”

  Another single tap.

  “Can you keep him out of the room?”

  I waited for another tap, but instead, two came. She released my hand, abruptly, which let me know that Jake was trespassing again.

  Shit.

  I rolled over, turning my back on the door and lay as still as a log. I imagined him standing behind me, screaming, demanding 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 looke
d 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 would have to talk. How dare she allow a hot-blooded male to sleep mere feet away from me when I hadn’t had sex in over a year and a half, and when said male was the last one and only I’d ever had sex with? What the hell was she thinking?

  Clearly, she was getting her some. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be this inconsiderate.

  “For protection,” he said. “I insisted.”