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
