The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) by Ingrid Seymour (an ebook reader TXT) 📗

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said in a quiet tone that sent a shiver up my neck.

Something about his expression made my stomach shrink to the size of a pea. I could tell from the sadness in his eyes that he really believed that talking would be something we might regret.

But how could that be? Dad always said that talking was good, that letting your feelings stew was like building a bomb, that things left to interpretation would get twisted into lies and mistakes. Did his advice not apply in this case? Should I leave good enough alone like everyone had advised?

Yet, how could I live without knowing? How could I live believing something that might be a lie? And maybe Jake was mistaken, and once we talked, this hollow in my heart would go away, and I would be able to forgive him and live the rest of my life without shadows that belonged in the past.

I sighed. “Whether or not you meant to hurt me, you did.”

“I’m sorry.” His apology sounded sincere, and even though he’d broken my heart in two, I had no reason to doubt he truly felt sorry.

I wished he would say more, but he didn’t, and that made me wonder if his silence was meant to spare me additional pain.

You don’t need to know, Toni. You don’t need to know.

After a long silence, he took a deep breath and glanced out the window. “Ready to face Ulfen?”

“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

Chapter 20

Jake took me to a club on The Grove, a bustling commercial district that extended for about a mile down Manchester Ave. The name of the club was The Chained Wolf, a place I’d seen before—Rosalina and I loved partying at The Grove—but had avoided it like mange because... well... werewolves and I just didn’t mix.

I hadn’t even known the club belonged to Ulfen Erickson, so now I had another reason to avoid it.

“Ulfen spends a lot of time here,” Jake said, scowling at the sign, a neon design in purple, depicting a howling wolf with a ball and chain attached to one of its hind legs. Music blasted from within, and about ten people were waiting in line to get in.

This wasn’t the type of place I would have guessed Ulfen Erickson would frequent, much less own. A club where yuppies met for Tinder hookups wasn’t exactly a proper married-man hangout zone. Not that I ever got the impression he loved his wife. Stephen had always complained about the way Ulfen treated her. Apparently, infidelity had become one of his favorite pastimes. I would guess the club gave him ample opportunity to find young women to seduce.

“He thinks because he’s an alpha he can do whatever he wants,” Stephen had told me more than once, which made me wonder about the alpha I was currently tangled with. Jake certainly looked like the kind of man who could get away with doing whatever he wanted, including breaking a nineteen-year-old’s heart. He was strong, attractive as hell, and—

Gah! I really needed to chuck these stupid thoughts in the garbage. Finding Stephen should be my whole focus. I would put all my senses into finding him and then get back to solving the love life problems of the rich and famous of St. Louis.

“Let’s go through the back.” Jake headed toward a side, dark alley.

“Why?”

“The bouncers have instructions to kick me to the curb on sight.”

“Lovely.”

At the back of the building, we waited behind a dumpster. The smell of dead rats wafted in the air. I held my breath while Jake kept an eye on the back entrance. Two bulbs on either side of the metal door provided the only illumination.

I’d just been about to ask how long he planned to wait when the door opened. Jake put an arm out in front of me, pressing my back against the wall, and squishing my boobs. Really? Way to cop a feel, dude. I held my breath as the sound of steps echoed in the alley. Something heavy crashed inside the dumpster. I spooked, and my heart skipped a beat, but I managed to bite my tongue and not make a sound.

The steps retreated after a couple of beats. Jake grabbed my hand and pulled me out of our hiding place. We dashed toward the door, which was slowly closing. He caught it just in time. His gaze locked on mine reassuringly. A little grin tipped his mouth as if we were playing some sort of hide and seek game. He had no qualms about this in the least.

Me, on the other hand, my heart was thumping out of control.

After a short moment, he nodded, pulled the door open, and we slipped inside. A long hall stretched in front of us, lined with boxes. I read some of the labels: Patron, Koval, Grey Goose. From the looks of it, they had enough booze to keep the young masses of St. Louis drunk for months on end. I could smell alcohol in the air.

“C’mon.” Still holding my hand, Jake guided me down the hall.

At a fork ahead, he stopped and cautiously glanced in both directions, then we kept going. The sound of music grew louder as we approached a swinging door with an eye-level window. The bottles inside the boxes rattled with the beat of the music’s low bass. Jake peered through the window, then pushed the door open, and we were in.

“See,” he said, whispering into my ear so I could hear him over the loud music. “Piece of cake.”

It didn’t feel like a piece of cake at all. It felt like spicy jalapenos burning my throat and giving me heartburn. Ulfen was a dangerous werewolf. More dangerous than most, anyway.

The club was crowded, hopping with young couples out for a good time. A techno beat rattled all my internal organs, and strobe lights primed me for a category-four seizure. Most of the patrons appeared