The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1), Ingrid Seymour [red white royal blue TXT] 📗

What the hell?! I had a feeling these were the friends Gonira had referred to earlier!

I squinted for a better look, and as I watched, the figures tore in my direction, growling and snarling. Adrenaline ignited my blood, and I whirled and ran.

Chapter 35

I hurried into the repair shop through the torn door. Without stopping, I dashed through the back door. The shelves and windows whizzed by in a blur. Pressure built up in my fingertips, and I felt my skin tearing as claws materialized again.

What the hell? Why this glamour again?

One of the shifters followed, tearing into the office, hot on my tail. I could sense him, hear his panting, smell his foul sweat. He was that close. I didn’t dare glance back.

I skidded to a stop and took a sharp left. A crash sounded behind me. I kept running and reached a landing with a set of steps that led up and another that led down. A door stood to my left. I tried it, but it didn’t budge. I froze for a beat, unsure of which way to go.

A horrible snarl rent the tight space, and I whirled to face a huge creature the size and shape of a gorilla. It stood on two legs and pounded his chest with boulder-sized fists. A shifter unlike any I’d ever seen before. My hyper-sensitive ears reverberated with its growl. My nose wrinkled as the stench of animal musk hit me. And my eyes... everything looked different, sharper somehow, especially the creature’s claws and pointed teeth.

The next thing I knew, I was snarling back at the beast, crouching low, one hand on the floor.

Um, what the hell?

Was a glamour capable of scrambling your brains this badly and making you believe you were Queen of the Jungle? I didn’t think so. At least, I’d never heard of anything like that, but the world held many secrets, so, who knew.

A small voice inside an even smaller corner of my brain tried to make itself heard.

This isn’t a glamour, you idiot.

Then what the hell is it?

Whatever the answer, it didn’t matter—not with King Kong advancing in my direction.

I pounced.

Really? What in the dreadful world of Planet of the Apes had gotten into me?!

I soared through the air like some acrobat, and a second later, I slammed into the beast’s chest. My claws slashed and teeth gnashed, snapping shut on something. King Kong’s ear?

Gah, nasty!

I bounced away, flipping in midair, then landed on all fours and spat. King Kong roared, a leathery hand pressed to the side of his head. With a shake, he leaned forward and dropped on his knuckles, bearing his throat in a furious growl.

“Ew, ever heard of mouthwash? Or mints?”

Another stinky growl.

Shit! I’d really pissed him off.

He charged. I held still for a heartbeat, then jumped out of the way. The beast went flying down the staircase, bouncing on the steps, crashing through the railing, and rolling to a stop at the bottom landing.

I whirled and kicked at the locked door. I stared open-mouthed as it swung open with the sound of splintering wood. What had Walter cooked into that ribeye? I rushed through the door and found myself in a covered garage with a couple of cars up on racks, and a few empty spaces for more. It was dark, and I shouldn’t have been able to see, but my eyes seemed to be doing some Superman shit.

The smell of gasoline and grease was worse here, nauseating. Huge, closed metal doors lined the left side, the kind that roll up on a chain. Outside the doors, I could hear the sounds of a battle raging. How many was Jake fighting now?

God, please, let him be okay.

My eyes roved around looking for an exit, but I’d reached a dead end. King Kong roared behind me, his massive feet thundering. He was coming. Frantically, I searched the wall for a button that would open the garage doors. Nothing. I ran to the other end and searched there. Still nothing.

King Kong burst into the room, stomping like a giant. His savage glare homed in on me right away. He could see me as clearly as I saw him.

I dropped to all fours—what was the deal with that?—and hid behind a wide rolling toolbox, the kind with a bunch of little drawers. The beast came at me, feet thudding against the concrete floor. My eyes darted left and right, looking for an escape. There was none.

The beast came around, and without thinking, I jumped inside the closest inspection pit, dropping to the bottom in a crouch. I glanced back up from its depths. King Kong’s head appeared above, a massive noggin the size of a car tire.

He’s too big to fit. He’s too big to fit.

The beast’s shoulders were as wide as a wardrobe, and this space was only big enough for one human, preferably a mechanic. This reasoning was all well and good, but it didn’t change the fact that I was freaking trapped in a hole that could easily become my greasy grave. I wrinkled my nose at the tarry smell and wiped sleek hands on my pants. The stuff had smeared all over me and I reeked.

Without taking my eyes off the beast, I moved toward the metal rungs that led out of the pit. King Kong bounded in their direction and blocked the exit with its massive body. Placing one hand to either side of the slit, he roared into the tight space. I clasped my hands over my ears, my eardrums threatening to burst. He reached one arm in, his enormous hand grasping, trying to reach me. I crouched low, heart in my throat.

My panic mounted. Tingling energy coursed through my body, growing, pounding. My heart hammered in my ears, speeding up like a locomotive. My anxiety surged like lava inside a volcano, looking for release. My body convulsed.

Oh, crap! Panic attack.

Breathe, Toni, breathe.

My heart was bursting.