The Tracker's Secret: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 2) by Ingrid Seymour (the gingerbread man read aloud .txt) 📗

would be too much, that I would look unnatural, but what she’d done had simply enhanced my features. No more, no less.

I blinked at the mirror, turning my face in different directions, completely in awe of her talent. “Shit, Rosalina, you could probably work on Broadway or Hollywood or something.”

“Yeah, if our agency doesn’t pan out, that’s my plan,” she joked.

She opened the drawer to my left. Glass clinked inside. The space was full to the brim with perfume bottles of different colors and made me think of a pirate’s treasure chest full of glittering jewels. She ran her fingers over them, picked a red bottle, and sprayed herself generously.

“I’d better change. Damien will be here soon,” she said, walking toward the bed and picking up the dress she’d selected out of her closet.

I went to my room to change, too. It was eight forty-five, and my nervousness had mounted. I felt like a young teen going to her first dance. I’d never been to a werewolf party. I preferred to party with Stales in mostly benign, public places. I had never even been to The Scourge—the Skew party district—because I knew it could be dangerous for people without considerable power. Shifters, vampires, powerful mages, and witches partied at a whole other level, which was not safe for Stales or weaker Skews like me. I didn’t feel at all like going, but I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to quickly tame Red. On top of that, I had to worry about Rosalina and hope Damien would keep her safe.

I slipped into my dress—an off-the-shoulder, knee-length number with slits running up both legs. Its fabric was flowy and plum-colored with a bit of glitter. After slipping into a pair of strappy kitten heels, I walked out of the bedroom and sat at the edge of the couch, tapping my fingers on my bare knee.

My back began to itch. I pinched my arm as hard as I could.

“Ow!”

I hate you, Red growled.

The itching went away. Not a pleasant method but effective.

A moment later, Rosalina came out of her room, filling her dress as only a curvaceous woman can. She looked gorgeous in her bodycon dress. It was light blue with a swooping neckline. Her long black hair tumbled in perfect locks around her shoulders and her toned, bare arms glittered slightly as if she were some sort of water nymph.

It was obvious why Damien Ward had set his eye on her, but I didn’t like it, especially since it’d been a while since I’d seen Rosalina this excited about a date. She had no shortage of them, and most of the time, she kept her expectations low. Tonight, however, there was a twinkle in her green eyes that scared me. I didn’t want her getting involved with a Skew—much less someone like Damien Ward. That guy had been tampering with me for twenty years, which didn’t speak highly of his moral backbone. If he’d done that, what else was he capable of?

As Rosalina sat next to me on the sofa, I took her hand and clenched it tightly. “I wish you would stay.”

“I already told you, I’m not letting you go alone.”

“I can tell you like him, Rosalina, so don’t pretend that’s the only reason you want to come.”

She didn’t try to deny it. She just shrugged.

“I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Who said I did? I’m not stupid. I may not be a Skew, but I’m no stranger to them. You know that.”

It was true. Rosalina’s family was mixed. Her Abuela Esperanza was a witch who, in her youth, had specialized in exorcising demons. Rosalina’s mother hadn’t inherited any skills and since she had married a Stale, Rosalina and her sister had no skills either. However, several of her uncles, aunts, and cousins did.

“Don’t worry.” She squeezed my hand back. “I’ve got a few hexes in my bag. You know I always carry them, and I won’t go anywhere with him. We already agreed on that.”

We were going to drive separately—me following Damien in my Camaro—but the plan was for Rosalina to come back with me afterward.

When the knock came at the door, I jumped, and my heart started pattering at a million miles per hour. Rosalina walked calmly to the door.

“Ow!” I exclaimed before she opened it.

She glanced back over her shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing.” I smiled, rubbing at the spot on my arm where I’d pinched myself again. I was probably going to have a bruise by the end of the night.

She pulled the door open, revealing Damien Ward standing on the other side. My friend’s sharp, green eyes took him in. He wore a three-piece suit. The jacket had velvet lapels and a gold-embroidered pattern. The vest underneath it was tight around his slim middle, and the shirt was open at the collar, revealing a smooth chest. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a world-class supermodel. Everything about him was utter perfection. His perfectly trimmed white hair, the smoothness of his jaw, the trim of his suit, the slight tilt of his shoulder as he stood casually, smirking. His copper eyes flashed with amusement.

“You look as stunning as I knew you would,” he said. “May I come in?”

He didn’t wait for an answer and took a step forward.

Both Rosalina and I held up our hands and waved him back, but it was too late. He hit my mother’s protective spell, which crackled and sizzled as soon as he tried to cross the threshold. Stunned, he yelped and jumped back.

He cursed and blinked very slowly, looking mad at himself. “You’d think I would know better. Of course, Amalia would protect her daughter with her best spells. She was always good at making them undetectable.” He blinked up at us. “Well, don’t just sit there staring at me. Let’s go.”

I met Rosalina at the door.

“He has a temper, huh?” she said, a slight smile stretching her lips. She liked them stubborn and fiery—her words not mine.

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