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

another attack. His maw snapped loudly a few inches from my neck. I whirled out of the way and jumped on top of him, my claws dragging down his coat and digging deep into his flesh.

Changing directions in midair, I landed several feet away from the black wolf. Blood oozed from a cut at his side.

A wild roar of satisfaction escaped me. I was pleased with the damage I’d caused. Blake glowered warily in my direction. He hadn’t expected that from me. But his bulk made him too slow.

He lowered his head, the hairs along his spine bristling. His expression changed, filling with determination. Something about it made me take a step back. My smugness shriveled into a raisin.

Uh-oh, now I’ve pissed him off.

He pounced, his speed intensified by his fury. I dodged, but his razor-sharp claws scraped along my shoulder, delivering an agonizing stab of pain that made me yelp. I flew sideways and slammed against a crate. My other shoulder cracked on impact.

Before I had time to regain my balance, Blake came at me again and snapped his jaw around the scruff of my neck. His teeth cut mostly through skin, but the pain was unbearable just the same. He shook his head from side to side, snarling. I howled, paws scrambling.

Seeing no other way of escape, I let my body drop, twisting as I went down. The shift in my body caused Blake’s knife-like teeth to tear through my skin. As it ripped, pain turned to fire on my back, but I was free.

Ducking, I shuffled sideways, eyes roving around as I looked for an exit.

Blake’s maw snapped inches from my neck as I backed away, my tail between my legs like a coward. I turned to face him fully. Blake shook his head, letting out a roar of satisfaction at seeing me defeated.

My clothes lay in a pile off to the side, torn and discarded, reminding me of that other me and the twenty years of lies it had lived. All along, I could have been more, but I’d only had a few days, and now, I would die without knowing myself, without the wolf achieving her full potential.

Savage fury sliced through the wild side of me as the realization hit.

You got everything, and I got so little, Red said. You didn’t deserve any of it. I did. I would have shown you what real power is.

Blake stalked in my direction, glee flashing in his dark eyes. He would enjoy the kill, just the way he’d enjoyed killing that man with his bare hands.

Hands?

My eyes darted toward my discarded clothes, then back to Blake. He seemed to realize the same thing I had. His expression changing from glee to determination, he lunged at me at the same time that I willed my wolf to stand down, and dove toward my discarded handgun and magazine.

My hands shifted first, short, claw-tipped fingers elongating. The change rippled up my arms and through the rest of my body in an instant. I hit the concrete floor with a thud. My hands reached under the Kevlar vest, fumbling for the gun and magazine.

Luck was on my side, and my fingers wrapped around the Glock’s grip and magazine at the same time. In one fluid motion, I stuffed the clip in just as Blake landed on me, his claws ripping into my back. I cried out in pain and, aiming awkwardly, cocked the gun, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang in my ears, kicking back my elbow against the floor. The bullet grazed Blake’s side, went wild, and hit the ceiling.

For an instant, I thought I was done for, but Blake rolled off of me and collapsed on his side, twisting uncontrollably and hollering in pain.

The last of my adrenaline burned through my body, and I pressed my face to the floor, panting from both pain and exertion. I kept my eyes open, unblinking, as I watched Blake’s wolf form slowly disappear, leaving behind a naked, shivering man.

Poison spread from the wound at his side, turning the surrounding skin black. The veins in his arms popped out, gradually darkening, climbing and climbing until black spider webs covered his entire body, even his face. White foam bubbled out of his mouth as he twitched.

Slowly, wincing at the agony of my injuries, I rose to my hands and knees, gun still in hand. Blake’s breaths became shallow and labored. He painstakingly turned his head in my direction and peered at me with hatred in his eyes.

Shaking, I rose to my feet and pointed the gun straight at his chest. My finger caressed the trigger. The hatred in his eyes subsided and morphed into fear. He didn’t want to die. Based on what Jake had said, the wolfsbane currently in his system wouldn’t kill him, but a bullet to the heart—wolfsbane or not—would send him straight where he needed to be... hell.

You see, Red, I’m strong, too.

I sensed a nod of concession from her and smiled.

Blake opened his mouth and said something unintelligible. I took a step closer.

“What?” I aimed the gun at his head to give him a bit more encouragement to talk.

He mumbled again, seemingly ready to confess since he thought he was dying.

“What is it, Blake? Tell me. Who else is responsible for this?” No way he was doing all of this alone.

Blake whimpered. His cowardice surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. He was a big bully, and bullies didn’t have a shred of courage. They needed others behind them to prop them up and get them out of trouble when they went in over their heads.

He struggled to form words, but only puffs of air came out.

“Speak, dammit! Or I’ll blow your brains out.”

His eyes widened, then darted downward in fear.

Suddenly, pressure built in my temples. I winced in pain and staggered backward. My brain felt ready to explode like an overripe pumpkin. What the hell? I blinked, shaking my head as I struggled to regain my focus. After a