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

trying to keep my anger at bay. This man was saying things I needed to know. “But I don’t remember anything.”

Damien nodded as if that were normal. “This won’t be easy, but you’ll have to learn how to control it. You need someone of your own kind to teach you.”

Your own kind.

My ears started ringing. All my life I’d believed I was something I was not. My entire world was a lie, and my true self something... unknown and terrifying.

“Is there someone who can help you?” the mage asked.

Immediately, my thoughts went to Jake. He was a werewolf. He could teach me. Suddenly, the words he’d told me just yesterday came rushing back to me. “I didn’t want to leave, Toni, but I had to. I made a promise. I owe it to my father, my grandfather, and Neil to pass on our legacy, and with you... that would be impossible.”

My stomach flipped and flopped like a fish. A part of me felt elated. I was a werewolf, which meant I could be with him. There were no obstacles. I could give him children and help his family continue their legacy.

Yet, another part of me shied away from the idea. I wouldn’t know how to raise werewolf children. I didn’t even know if I wanted to have them. Besides, I wasn’t a proper werewolf. Jake wouldn’t want me. He would want someone strong and able, a mate who could stand alongside him to uphold his traditions, and I had no idea how to do that. I wouldn’t make a good mate for him. And I didn’t like the idea of becoming nothing but a puppy factory.

And why the hell was I thinking about Jake right now?!

I pushed the thoughts aside. They were too much to digest, especially when I hadn’t processed the extent of my mother’s betrayal, and when every time I thought about dad my heart ached. He wasn’t my father. Someone else—some man I didn’t know, who might be dead or alive—was responsible for creating me.

And there was more... I was a tracker and a werewolf. How? That was impossible, wasn’t it?

My head pounded as all these ideas swirled around, crashing into each other like balls on a pool table. I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to make it stop.

The mage glanced off to the side and said, “Amalia, do you know someone who can help her?”

I glanced back. Mom stood behind me. I took a step toward the front door, the anger in my gut rekindling. “How could you?!” I demanded.

“I’m—”

“No! Don’t talk to me. You ruined everything. I would have rather lost you than Dad.”

An injured expression etched her face. “Don’t say that.”

“I wish he was here and not you. I wish... I wish...”

Suddenly, there was only one thing I wanted, and it was to be as far away from Mom as possible. I took another step toward the door and was about to bolt out of the house when I remembered the mage’s business card.

Merely on instinct, I leaned over and snatched it from the coffee table. At that moment, I didn’t quite understand why I took it. But later, I would be grateful. He was the only one who could explain the spell that had kept my wolf caged.

And sooner or later, I would need those answers.

Chapter 2

LYING IN BED IN THE spare bedroom of my best friend’s condo, I shook my head as the memories kept spiraling out of control, bringing back yesterday’s events with so much vividness that I could almost see the sneering mage staring at me over the edge of his round, dark glasses.

Fury surged as the image of Damien and Mom standing in that kitchen flashed before my eyes. My skin began to tingle, and my fingertips and gums grew tight to the point of bursting with claws and fangs.

I sat up and clutched the edge of the mattress, staring at myself in the full-length mirror that hung from the wall. I tried to will the anger away by breathing slowly and focusing on my face. Something was different about it, though I couldn’t say exactly what. Some subtle changes had honed my features, turning them... wild. It seemed my cheekbones and my nose were sharper, and my mouth protruded slightly forward.

God, don’t let me shift. Rosalina is in the next room.

She was getting ready for work. Her makeup routine took her a while. She was a genius with eyeshadow and concealer. As I thought of my friend, the tingling in my skin subsided a little, so I squeezed my eyes shut and thought more about her and our day ahead at the office.

We had a new client coming in today. Someone Celina Morelli had recommended to Sunder’s Mate Tracker Agency, which meant Rosalina and I were well on our way to turning our clientele to the most exclusive in St. Louis. The business goals we had set out for ourselves were coming to fruition. With this new type of client, we would be able to charge more for our services, and we would do more than stay afloat.

With a deep breath, I opened my eyes and stared at myself in the mirror again. My face had gone back to normal. It was rounder and not wild.

Thank the witchlights.

I could do this. I could keep it together. I didn’t need someone of my kind to help me and teach me. I didn’t need to ask that mage any questions, for all I knew Mom would convince him to keep me in the dark again. At once, the anger returned and started bubbling like an already-boiling pot set back on the stove.

Forget about the mage. Forget about mom.

Forget about the mage. Forget about mom.

Forget, forget, forget.

Except all the chanting in my head only made things worse. A rumbling built in my chest, and I fell in front of the bed on all fours, my back arching, my muscles spasming, and my face twitching.