The Tracker's Secret: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 2) Ingrid Seymour (e book reading free TXT) 📖

“If you remember, I’m Antonietta Sunder, but you can call me Toni. That over there is my partner, Rosalina López. And this gentleman is Aaron Blackridge, our client.”

Aaron extended a hand toward Josh. “Nice to meet you, Josh.”

Josh hesitated for a bit, then took Aaron’s hand. I felt electricity spark between them as they touched, and all my concerns about them accepting each other dissolved into a giddy, happy feeling. It happened every time I brought two mates together. The chemistry was immediate and undeniable. It was easy to see in their interlocked hands and gazes, and in the way they lingered on each other longer than should be comfortable.

Josh smiled up at Aaron who was a head taller than him, and that sadness that I’d perceived in him seemed to become something imagined, something that had never been there.

“You work at Ted’s?” Aaron said. “I love that place.”

“Um, it’s just a temporary job until I finish school. I’m studying graphic design,” Josh said.

“You are?”

Josh nodded, excitedly. “I love manipulating images. Photographs mainly.”

“You’ll have to show me some of your work,” Aaron enthused.

Rosalina handed me an envelope, another of our embossed cardstock. I took it and offered it to Aaron, who had a hard time glancing away from Josh.

“We took the liberty to make a reservation at one of the best restaurants in The Hill,” I said, handing over the envelope. “The details are in here, and all the expenses are taken care of. We thought you might want to spend some time getting to know each other.”

This particular place served cold and warm drinks for vampires, elixirs that contained a combination of human and animal blood, all licensed and organic.

“Great idea.” Aaron took the envelope and turned to Josh. “Tell me you’re hungry.”

Josh nodded a bit shyly.

They left after saying their goodbyes, smiling hugely and casting furtive glances toward each other. When they were gone, Rosalina and I practically squealed like we were back in grade school. It just felt so good to make people happy.

Our work here was done. Another lucky couple guaranteed to stay together for life.

Chapter 16

THE DREADED DAY CAME, and the alarm blasted like a banshee screaming in my ear. I batted at it and sent it flying across the room where it kept going, taunting me from a safe distance. I groaned, slid out of bed and onto the floor, and crawled toward it. I poked the snooze button, collapsed on my stomach, and went back to sleep drooling on the carpet.

The banshee screamed again. My eyes sprang open and stared straight at the red numbers. 3:40 AM.

Shit, shit, shit!

I jumped to my feet, adrenaline punching me right in the chest. Without looking, I pulled some of my kickboxing workout clothes out of a drawer, stuffed my feet into my new tennis shoes, snatched my car keys, and ran out of the condo. I got in my Camaro and drove like a maniac through the empty streets, headed west.

A quarter moon hung in the sky. My skin itched at the sight of it.

Great, the mange was moon-activated.

At a red light, halfway to my destination, I took off my pajama shorts and put on the cropped yoga pants I’d snatched. Next, I stuck the sports bra over my tank and pulled the latter out by sneaking my arms out of the straps and almost getting tangled in the mess. The shirt I’d grabbed was made of lace—something to wear to a club, and not a workout, or whatever this was supposed to be—so I opted for my PJ tank. I sped toward Eric’s house the rest of the way, ignoring the red lights and praying a cop didn’t spot me.

I made it there with three minutes to spare, and ran up the stairs of his slick house, taking them two at a time. I stopped in front of the glass doors, panting. They were closed but slid open as soon as my face flashed in the security monitor.

Warily, I walked inside, feeling like a thief. It was still dark, and I didn’t belong here.

I came around the artsy wall that fronted the door to find the area that had held the party looking nothing like it had the other night. There was no dance floor and definitely no disco ball and dancing spotlights. The glass bar was gone as well as the bottle-filled shelves.

Tasteful, modern living room furniture filled the space instead, creating several sitting areas to read, lounge, or receive visitors. More abstract, contemporary art hung on the back wall, and a twisted metal sculpture that resembled chewed taffy separated the area in two.

My eyes roved around as I tried to decide which way to go. Back to the study? I started walking in that direction when a voice boomed overhead, startling me.

“Not that way,” Eric Cross grumbled through unseen speakers. “Go to your left, take the steps to the bottom floor, walk to the end of the hall, then take a right.”

Good morning to you, too.

I found the staircase, a slick piece of architecture of polished wood trimmed with metal, and a banister made of tension cables. I rushed downstairs, ran down the hallway, took a right into a large room, and skidded to a stop.

Eric stood facing me, his back to a mirrored wall, his hands interlaced in front of him, the wolf ring prominent on his right index finger. He wore loose sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt. His arms were slender, yet muscular. Judging by the sweat stains down his gray top, it looked like he’d been working out for hours already. He didn’t have the kind of bulk that Jake or Stephen did, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was in excellent physical shape.

He glanced over at a digital clock on the wall, which read 4:00 AM. “You like to live on the edge, don’t you?”

My first instinct was to say that I was sorry, but I bit the words back.