THE TRACKER’S MATE
MATE TRACKER SERIES, BOOK 1
SUNDERVERSE
INGRID SEYMOUR
Copyright by Ingrid Seymour, 2021.
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
THE TRACKER'S MATE
First edition. January 21, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Ingrid Seymour.
Written by Ingrid Seymour.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Get Notified!
Also By Ingrid Seymour
About the Author
For Billie,
You always shine and share your light.
Chapter 1
A fatal attraction is a curse.
No, wait a minute. Wasn’t there a movie by that title? I can’t call it that. Hmm...
Fierce attraction? Blind attraction? Dumb attraction?
Sure, why not? Let’s go with that.
A dumb attraction is a curse.
You know the kind. Out of control, listens to no reason, makes you do stupid, stupid shit.
Yep, it’s a curse, one I don’t wish on anyone.
That was the kind of animal magnetism that led me to Jacob Knight.
The bastard!
He waltzed into my life the last year of high school. Before he did, I was happy, growing up with my parents and siblings: two sisters and one brother. Then bam! As soon as I left the safety of our little family nest, things took a turn for the worse. I thought I was ready to fly, to soar like an eagle, but it turned out I was a clumsy ostrich, destined to crash and burn. Big time.
For that, I blame Jake’s silver eyes, chiseled face, mouthwatering body, and slutty reputation.
He was two years ahead of me in school. I’d always been aware of him, even in kindergarten when I should have been eating my crayons instead. In my mind, he seemed unattainable, like a supernatural celebrity in a magazine.
Except during my senior year, at a spring break party, he noticed me.
That very day, he rocked my world and my body. I should have been mortified, almost losing my virginity after he whispered a few delicious words in my ear, but I suffered no guilt. On the contrary, I felt like a woman for the first time, wild and thoroughly fulfilled.
After that, we dated for five months. Everyone was shocked.
Jacob Knight didn’t date.
He seduced women, got what he wanted, and went on his merry, werewolf way. But not with me. He was in love. Or so I thought.
I’d been so sure that, after graduation, I packed my bags and moved in with him. Mom tried to tell me not to rush things, but the curse of my dumb attraction was on, like blood on vampire fangs. Jake had enthralled me, and my mind and body weren’t mine anymore.
He had a little apartment and big plans. We were great together, and not only as a couple. We made a brilliant tracking team and were helping people. We even solved a big missing person case for the police just in the nick of time, finding an eight-year-old girl who’d been kidnapped by a vamp who preyed on children. I was happy, even if using my tracking powers was a bitch, and I had to keep Jake in the dark about how my skills work for fear he would worry and decide we should stop being a team. We had a great thing going, and I wanted it to last forever.
Then, three months after I moved in with him, I woke up to a stack of cash on the kitchen table—enough for two-months’ rent—and a note that said he was leaving me.
My life imploded, and in one fell swoop, I learned two important lessons: never fall in love and always look out for Number One.
Thank the witchlights, he’s out of my life.
I TRACK PEOPLE’S MATES for a living.
Humans, vampires, werewolves, Fae. You name it. I help them hook up better than Tinder can.
It’s not an easy job for me, but if I’m smart, I can get far. Since I opened Sunder’s Mate Tracker Agency, I can pay all my bills, and my clothes don’t have holes. Better yet, they don’t stink. True, my dry cleaner’s monthly charges are higher than I ever imagined possible, but I slay it.
Hell, I was slaying it that night when it all began. Genuine leather pants, Louis Vuitton ankle boots, designer jacket in metallic rose gold that played beautifully against my pink-tipped hair, and a blowout that left my locks as silky as rose petals. Add to that large brown eyes, olive skin, full lips...
Hello, gorgeous!
A few of the men at the party also seemed to appreciate what they saw. Too bad I didn’t appreciate them back.
Besides, I wasn’t here for brawn but to snatch the next client for our agency. I had to look my best, so I had splurged on the clothes. I looked like a million bucks, felt like a million bucks.
“Here.” Rosalina, my best friend and business partner, walked over and handed me a cosmopolitan.
I immediately took a sip. “Mmm, thank you.”
She clinked her glass against mine, then savored her drink.
Rosalina López was three years older than me, and whenever possible, she procured my cocktails. I was five months shy of twenty-one, and though I had a pretty good fake ID, I tried to avoid the hassle.
“When is the big reveal?” She pointed toward the suspended curtain, which concealed the scale model of “Shifting Futures,” a cleverly named facility that, once built, would help wayward shifter kids straighten their ways.
We were at a charity event at an exclusive venue in downtown. The model was right in the middle, surrounded by dressed-up tables set for fine dining. A podium with an enormous screen stood at the back of the room. Flowers, vines, and water features made the space feel like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The witches and mages hired for the job had overdone it, though, because the flowery perfume had already overwhelmed my sensitive sniffer.
We were here to meet our future client: Celina Morelli. This hadn’t been my choice for a meeting place. Not at all. The reason: the founder of Shifting Futures, Ulfen Erickson, was putting on the party, and we were not friends—not since I’d dated his son, and Ulfen took it upon himself to break us up.
But Celina had insisted, saying she was a busy woman who preferred to kill two birds with one stone whenever possible. In truth, she was probably hoping I would find her mate among St. Louis’s rich and famous. If it only worked that way. I hadn’t seen her yet, but we weren’t supposed to meet her until after the reveal.
I shrugged in answer to Rosalina’s question. “I don’
t know when. They should just drop the curtain already. Enough suspense. Who cares?”
“Plenty of people care, Toni.” Rosalina waved her glass to indicate the crowd.
She tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and scanned the guests with her radiant green eyes. She looked gorgeous in her emerald sheath dress. It complemented her tawny skin to perfection and accentuated her narrow waist and child-bearing hips.
“I suppose,” I admitted begrudgingly. Shifting Futures was a great charity, even if its founder was an asshat.
Shit! Talking about the head-up-his-ass founder.
I’d spotted him out of the corner of my eye. He was approaching with one of his big-money friends, both dressed in sharp tuxedos. I whirled and faced the bar behind me. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize my backside. I had no interest in talking to him.
I was only here to meet my client.
Quit lying to yourself, Toni, my subconscious piped in.
To be honest, I’d gotten the peculiar idea that I might run into Ulfen’s son. Stephen Erickson was the last guy I’d been able to connect with since my dumb attraction episode with Jake Knight. And it seemed I was craving a little male attention. It had been a while. But it didn’t seem Stephen was here. Maybe it was for the best.
“Is the asshat gone?” I whispered to Rosalina out of the corner of my mouth.
She made a sound in the back of her throat to indicate the coast wasn’t clear yet. I patiently sipped my cocktail. It was deliciously sweet.
“Oh, shit!” Rosalina hissed under her breath.
“What?” Panic tingled across my skin.
She turned and faced the bar, too. “He’s headed straight here.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
I was at the brink of fleeing—four-inch heels and all—when a snarly voice sounded behind me.
“Antonietta Sunder, what a pleasure to see you again.” That was what Ulfen said, except it sounded more like “Antonietta Sunder, how disgusting to see you again.”
Well, the disgust was all mine.
Cursing my recognizable backside, I turned to face my nemesis, the person I despised most in the world. Well, almost. Jake held the first prize.
“Mister Erickson.” I stamped on a charming smile. “I wish I could say the same.”
One of his eyebrows shot up, betraying the contempt he still felt for me. Back at you, buddy.
Ulfen was a man of forty-five with thick red hair and a well-kept beard. Six-foot tall and built like a bull, he was of Scandinavian descent, his werewolf line dating back centuries. He resembled his son so much that a twinge of longing stabbed my chest. Damn, even if my crush for Stephen had died of resignation a while back, I still hated this man for viciously murdering what could have been. Ulfen hadn’t liked his werewolf heir messing around with a common tracker, so he put his foot down.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, abandoning all pretenses. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
I shrugged one shoulder and winked. “It’s my thing. I enjoy crashing parties, remember?”
Right before he stuck his nose in our business, I’d interrupted a dinner party at his mansion while searching for Stephen. I’d been a bit tipsy, and Ulfen had been pissed.
He pushed air through his nose like an angry dog but said nothing.
And just because it would annoy him, I cast my eyes around the room. “Where is your gorgeous son, anyway? I haven’t seen him.”
Erickson’s upper lip twitched. It was a slight movement, but I caught it. My question had bothered him, but not only in the way I had intended. I frowned. There seemed to be more to it. Were father and son at odds again? They had never seen eye to eye.
I sighed. The world keeps turning and nothing ever changes.
Ulfen leaned closer, his blue eyes sharp, flashing with a subtle light for an instant. “Let this be the last time I see you at one of my functions. For now, make sure you behave, Ms. Sunder. You know I have no compunctions about throwing troublemakers out.”
Which was exactly what he’d done the night I crashed his dinner party. I landed on my left boob on his perfect lawn.
He turned and walked away.
“I hope his ass spontaneously combusts,” I mumbled, shooting death rays at his tight, forty-five-year-old butt.
Rosalina snorted. “What a jerk.” She cocked her head, also peering at his retreating behind. “Not bad for someone more than twice our age.”
I hated to admit it, but she was right. I heaved a sigh. Werewolves and their genes... they were the envy of even the hottest supermodels. Women couldn’t resist them, just like I couldn’t resist Stephen Erickson and Jacob Knight.
What was with me and werewolves?
Stephen had been the rebound after Jake—my attempt at being normal. But it didn’t work out as I hoped. If only I could track my own mate. I’d tried several times, and got nothing. It was a real bummer.
I shook my head. Dammit! I should have known that coming here would open the floodgates. I’d done my best not to think of hot werewolves in the past year. Rosalina had helped me, turning my attention to better things. She was the only reason I was here today, the reason we had an up-and-coming tracking agency. She’d suggested tracking mates rather than tracking missing people. We had gone in together on a business loan and had big dreams for ourselves.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, gulping the rest of my cocktail. “Coming here was a terrible idea.” I set the glass down on the bar and scanned the crowd.
Rosalina cringed, apologetically. It was partly her fault we were here. Everyone who was anyone in the St. Louis area was here, which was why I’d let her convince me to come. We were trying to build our agency’s reputation among this type of people, hoping to gain some exclusivity. I wanted stability more than anything else. I was never sleeping under a bridge or going hungry again. I’d had enough of that thanks to Jake. I was done with being naïve. Helping others never paid off. Like my father used to say, no good deed goes unpunished. I had always thought Dad jaded, but now I understood.
Ulfen climbed on the podium and tapped the microphone. The guests’ animated conversation stopped immediately. He took a paper from his jacket pocket and spread it over the lectern.
Someone walked behind the podium. I blinked. Wait, was that... Jake?
Crap!
Was he here?
I craned my neck, eyes roving around. The man came out on the other side, and it wasn’t Jake, but one of Ulfen’s bodyguards, tall and broad. Another werewolf of lithe movements and impeccable posture, but not him.
Man, the floodgates must’ve really cracked open if I was seeing things.
Ulfen Erickson cleared his throat. “I want to thank everyone for being here. Without you and your charitable contributions, this project would not be possible. This morning, we broke ground at the location where Shifting Futures will be built. Some of you were there and witnessed the natural beauty that surrounds the area. The trees, the river that runs behind the property, the hiking trails—a lovely place.”
Many in the crowd nodded their assent, raising their glasses. As much as I hated the asshole, he was doing a good thing, helping young, misunderstood shifters function better in our society. I knew how hard it was to be different, to be called a weirdo because you had a supernatural talent. Though we all tried to live in harmony, regular humans simply didn’t get it.
Ulfen lifted a hand, gesturing toward the center of the room where the curtain hung from a suspended metal ring, forming a giant tube around the model.
“Behind the curtain lies the architectural scale model for our new facility. The design was a generous donation from architect Amy Kahn.”
Awed whispers went around the room. Ulfen brushed shoulders with some important people. Architect Amy Kahn did impressive work all over the United States, and I was sure it didn’t come cheap.
“Amy couldn’t be here tonight, but she sends her regards.” Ulfen smiled. “Anyway, you’re not he
re to listen to me prattle, so without further ado, I give you Shifting Futures.”
There was a pause, and everyone seemed to hold their breath, then the curtain dropped and the entire room erupted in screams.
A body was hanging by its neck from a metal cable, its feet a mere inch from the scale model, dripping crimson blood onto the tiny buildings. He was naked, and a word was carved on his chest in big, jagged letters.
WAR.
Chapter 2
The next morning, I was rifling through files, trying to keep last night’s events out of my head, but failing.
At first, I hadn’t recognized the dead man’s face.
It must have been the shock of seeing him hanging, or the blood, the people screaming and running, and Ulfen’s bodyguards whisking him out of the room.
But I knew the victim. His name was Blake Foster. He was Stephen’s bodyguard, a strong beta wolf the family trusted. The man had been Ulfen’s employee for over two decades, and Stephen had cared about him—maybe more than he cared about his father.
Who could have done such a thing? And why?
And what about the word on Foster’s chest?
WAR.
Tensions in the city had been running high for many years. Organized crime factions operated by different groups—humans, vampires, werewolves, Fae, mages, and witches—all wanted more control, more power. And wasn’t that always the rub?
The balance was precarious, constantly teetering at the edge of war, and someone had made a move to tip the scales. The question was... who? A name immediately came to mind: Bernadetta Fiore, the Dark Donna.
She was the most powerful vamp in the city, if not the country. She owned many legitimate businesses, and the authorities had never been able to pin any wrongdoing on her, but no doubt she and her people had their hands in every shady transaction that took place in St. Louis. Same as Ulfen Erickson. I was sure of it. The man presented a pristine front, but he was no boy scout.
Even disregarding the fact that vampires and werewolves were natural enemies, Bernadetta Fiore and Ulfen Erickson hated each other and constantly competed in their control of real estate, government, industry, and who knew what else.
The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) Page 1