The Tracker's Secret: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 2), Ingrid Seymour [great novels .txt] 📗

A low rumble started in my chest. Mom cowered, pushing her back against the refrigerator again. I pressed a hand to my breastbone. I sounded like I had swallowed my Camaro’s engine. What the hell was up with that?

“What is happening to me?” My voice had gone back to normal, but it rang with fear.

“You’re changing.” Mom’s words sounded like some sort of curse, like something I should be terrified of.

Changing into what? That was what I needed to ask, but Mom wasn’t the only coward here. It seemed I’d inherited the trait from her, because, instead, I avoided the question.

“And that mage,” I pointed in the direction of the living room, “he was here to...?”

“He was here to stop it, like he’s done every year since you were born.”

Since you were born.

I glanced under the table, considering the possibility of hiding there for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t lack shelter or food. Mom was a great cook. It wasn’t a bad idea at all.

Changing into what? I still shied away from the question that mattered most, but Mom finally grew a pair and shot the elephant in the room right between the eyes.

“You’re a werewolf, Antonietta.”

I’d known it was coming. Yet, I couldn’t accept it.

“NO!” I shouted, though deep inside, I knew it was the truth.

Even as I shook my head, a part of me bristled at the news, feeling acknowledged as if, all along, it’d been waiting to be seen.

“What kind of joke is this?” I demanded, letting my denial take the wheel. “I can’t be a werewolf. I’m... I’m...”

I stared at my hands where claws had been just minutes ago. They were still there under my skin. I felt them like tiny beating hearts at my fingertips, pulsating, pushing, aching to be released.

Mom exhaled deeply, and wearing a resigned expression, she approached and sat across from me. She looked like someone who had given up a well-fought battle, someone who hated to lose but, at the same time, found relief in knowing the struggle was finally over.

“I have been lying to you and everyone else for over twenty years,” she said, her eyes growing dark and distant as if she’d been transported to a different place and time. “I’m not proud of my mistake, of everything I kept from you and your father.”

I know what she is going to say. I know what she is going to say.

No, you don’t. It’s not possible.

As she spoke, I shook my head over and over, wishing I had come to lunch when she first asked me so that none of this would have happened, so I wouldn’t have to let her words break my heart into more pieces than I thought were possible.

“Antonietta, you... you aren’t Peter’s daughter.”

No!

Dad. A sob escaped me.

“I had an affair. It didn’t last. There is no excuse, but your father and I were going through a rough patch, and I was still young and foolish. It was over as soon as it began, but even though he broke things off and he went away, you remained.”

He broke things off, not her.

What the fuck kind of bitter pill was this?

I jerked out of the chair and stared down at Mom, fists shaking at my sides. She must’ve seen something in my expression because she flinched and pressed her mouth into a thin line, turning her lips white. Without a word, I turned my back on her and walked away.

“Toni, please let me finish,” she begged.

But there was nothing else I needed to hear. It hurt too much to even look at her, so I walked out and faced the mage. He was sitting in the living room, reclined on the sofa, his legs crossed as he hummed a tune I didn’t recognize.

When he saw me, he stared at me from under his round dark glasses and said, “Impressive.”

I frowned at him, unable to make a reply. My mind was too jumbled up with anger and pain to cobble up a proper insult.

Damien Ward, that was what Mom had introduced him as, stood up, his cloak oscillating behind him. Slowly, he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a business card, and offered it to me. “You will have questions once you relearn how to form words again. Here’s how you can reach me.”

I stared at the card as if touching it would make furry ears spring from the top of my head.

The mage huffed and set the card on the coffee table. “I would suggest that, for the time being, you avoid getting angry, anxious, nervous, or sexually aroused. At least until you learn to control the shift. You wouldn’t want to get a SUD. It’s a bitch having them on your record. Much worse than a DUI.”

As if he’d suggested the exact opposite, blind fury flared in my gut and those gnarly claws made a reappearance, along with a set of major fangs. Shifting Under Duress be damned!

Damien cocked his head to one side and regarded me with pursed lips. After a moment, he waved a hand in the air and a sweet aroma saturated the room and filled my head and lungs with a cloying warmth that made me feel heavy and woozy. My claws and fangs retreated. I blinked several times, feeling disoriented.

“Do you remember shifting?” the mage asked.

Huh? What?

I thought about the question from every angle. Suddenly, the conversation I’d had with Mom came rushing back like a boomerang on steroids. Tears pricked in the back of my eyes as her words played inside my head.

You’re a werewolf, Antonietta. You aren’t Peter’s daughter.

“You shifted,” Damien said. “That’s the reason my spell won’t work anymore. The animal is free. Do you know when it happened?”

I should’ve known. The thought flashed through my head, reminding me that I hadn’t been feeling right lately. My skin had been itching, feeling too small for my body. And my sense of smell... it had always been too keen.

“I... I think so,” I said,