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

if I did that, he would realize he still had power over me, and dammit, if I wasn’t too proud to let him see that. So I put on a smile and lied through my teeth.

“It’s fine, Jake. It doesn’t bother me. Not really.” My tone was cold and detached, and I waved my hand around carelessly. “I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other anyway since we are in such different lines of business.”

Jake’s eyes tightened, and he watched me closely as I spoke. When I was done, a smile stretched slowly over his chiseled lips, and a know-it-all expression shaped his face.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

He turned his mouth upside down and shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

I mimicked his sarcastic smile.

This seemed to be the way frienemies got along, spewing blatant lies at each other while pretending to believe them. Despite everything, I felt I would be able to handle his closeness, and if I turned out to be wrong, St. Louis was a big city. I could find another place to operate. I had plans to move up the social scale anyway, so other areas of the city would be more appropriate for the clientele that would soon overfill my agenda.

That evening I went to kickboxing class and imagined Jake’s face stamped on the punching bag. I had a hell of a workout and got all my aggression out. I’d done what I could to try to help. Now, I could go back to normal.

Chapter 29

At the end of the day, as soon as we got to Rosalina’s place, I fed Cupid his pellets and crawled into bed without eating dinner, feeling emotionally exhausted. Too much had happened in the expanse of a few days, and even though Rosalina suggested take-out, my only thoughts were of fluffy pillows and cozy blankets.

I closed my eyes as the events of the day played in my head like a movie in an infinite loop. I kept feeling Jake’s finger caressing my knuckles while his intense silver eyes peered into my soul. I grew hot all over, remembering the first time we had sex.

It had been perfect. He had made sure of it.

“I want you to always remember today as the most special day of your life,” he’d whispered in my ear as we sat on a luscious bed at the Four Seasons Hotel, a backdrop of The Gateway Arch in our window.

More than once before that night, I’d asked him to take me in the back of his pickup truck as we made out. We’d come close, but he’d been a lot stronger than me and made good on his promise to make my first time memorable.

For a while now, I hadn’t tortured myself with memories of that night and others that followed, but since his simple touch had opened that door, I found myself in that luxurious room again. The sheets were white, soft cotton. I wore a strappy black dress and high heel shoes, the same outfit I’d worn to prom. Jake wore a dark gray suit and looked breathtaking.

He seduced me carefully and perfectly, starting from the moment he picked me up at home to the instant our bodies became one. All night, his hands lingered on me. On my waist, my hips, the nape of my neck. He dispensed kisses that were sensual and sweet all at the same time. And by the time we were alone, my desire had reached its peak and his touch was like hot flames on my skin.

That night was, indeed, the most special of my life, and I both loved and hated Jake for giving it to me. He had ruined me. That night and all he meant to me was the reason I’d been incapable of getting close to anyone. No one could measure up to that, especially because I’d been so madly in love with him.

“You loved that man like in the books and the movies,” Mom had said to me once. “It wasn’t healthy. Good riddance.” I would have given my life for him. I would have borne his babies, a whole litter of half werewolves. Instead, he’d torn my heart out.

I tossed and turned in bed, struggling to get him out of my mind and calm down my overactive hormones, until I finally went to sleep.

“Toni.”

The hum of an engine filled my ears, loud and incessant. My sense of hearing felt overwhelmed, and it seemed to be the only one functioning properly. I couldn’t smell anything. I couldn’t see anything either.

Was this a trance? I didn’t remember taking a potion.

“Toni.”

Tires against pavement. Rattling of metal. Squeak of brakes. Blaring of horns. Maddening, like being right in the middle of an interstate at the very top of rush hour.

Weaving through the nonstop cacophony, a voice fought to rise above.

“Toni.”

I could barely perceive it, but it seemed the voice was calling my name. I tried to hone in on it. The voice was familiar. I’d heard it before, but I couldn’t place it.

“Toni, is that you?”

My breath caught.

Stephen!

“Yes, it’s me.” My arms flailed in the darkness, trying to find him. “Where are you?”

My heart hammered. He was close by.

“Please, help me,” he begged.

I had to be in a trance. Had to be. It was the only explanation, and somehow, Stephen knew I’d come looking for him.

“I’m trying to find you,” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” he screamed.

I whirled, following the raw sound of his voice. I stumbled forward, hands in front of me. That scent suddenly saturated the air: sweet and warm, coating my throat. My hands got hold of something. I felt around. A person.

“Stephen?”

He said nothing.

I kept feeling with my hands, moving them upward. They reached what felt like a collarbone, a neck, a face. It was wet and sticky. I pulled back, wishing I could see in this blackness. As the wish materialized so did my sight. It came back gradually.