The Tracker's Rage (Mate Tracker #3) - Ingrid Seymour

Chapter 1

Not even two weeks ago I’d learned I was a werewolf. And now, there was more. It seemed I may be an alpha, when all along I’d thought I was an omega.

I shifted my Camaro into fourth, tearing down the highway, headed toward Eric Cross’s house. It was past midnight, and traffic was light. I ran two red lights, holding my breath and peering at the rearview mirror, expecting to see flashing lights hot on my tail. But luck was on my side.

My heart pounded in my grip on the steering wheel. The engine roared. Trees and buildings zipped by. The power that propelled me forward made me feel as if I were on a hunt, chasing prey. It filled me with excitement. Though, there was more.

There was also panic.

Eric had told me that alpha’s could push their thoughts into the heads of other werewolves, and that they could hear their thoughts back. He had done it to me, had ordered me to run into the woods, to chase him. And I had answered him back. We’d communicated without words, simply through our thoughts.

And then, a few nights ago at the Pulse Inc. warehouse, while Blake lay twisting on the floor, in agony with wolfsbane in his veins, I’d felt a terrible pressure in my temples. It had been a familiar sensation. The same one I’d felt with Eric when he talked in my mind, but I hadn’t recognized it—not until just moments ago when I’d been sleeping in bed, reliving what had happened through a nightmare. Even in the dream, the same terrible pressure had tormented me until I broke through some mental barrier, and then Blake’s voice lanced through my consciousness.

“Stephen, help me!” The words had been loud and clear, and there was no way Blake could have pushed them into my mind. He was not an alpha, which meant I must be one. But that was impossible!

I shifted gears down as I took a sharp left. The tires screeched against the blacktop.

Still fighting with the realization, I shook my head in denial.

It can’t be. It can’t be.

It hadn’t been but a nightmare, something conjured by my subconscious. There was no way I could have heard Blake’s thoughts because only an alpha could have done that, and I was an omega—a weakling. Damien had said so. And if the mage had been wrong, Eric would have mentioned something. He wouldn’t have left me in the dark, would he?

The Camaro’s engine roared as I accelerated onto Eric’s street. I came to an abrupt stop in front of his house, turned the ignition off, jumped out of the car, and ran up the concrete steps to his sliding glass doors. They were closed and didn’t open for me as usual. But he wasn’t expecting me for a training session. It was the weekend.

I pressed a button on the security device to the right, a large pad with keys, a speaker, and a screen. There was a click, followed by three rings. I waited, but no answer came. I pressed the button again and again and again.

Finally, Eric’s face appeared on the screen. He looked as if he’d gotten a punk haircut. He squinted tiredly at the screen.

“Sunder? What the hell are you doing here.” He glanced sideways. “It’s twelve twenty-two, and it’s fucking Sunday.”

“Open the door,” I demanded.

“Go back home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Open the door!”

“No.”

He lifted a hand to turn off the device. Anger seethed in my gut. I would not leave until I got the answers I needed.

OPEN THE DOOR! I pushed my wish forward with all my will. My message wasn’t made up of words but of need and want and fury.

On the screen, Eric’s eyes grew wide.

OPEN THE DOOR! I repeated.

My muscles rippled, the change coming over me. I slammed my arm against the glass door. Pain shot into my shoulder. A crack appeared in the thick glass.

“Shit, Sunder, calm down! Don’t ruin my fucking door,” Eric growled. “I’ll be right there.”

The door slid open. I stared at it perplexed, rubbing my arm. I took two deep breaths, heeding Eric’s words to calm down. I rolled my shoulders and neck, pushing away my anger.

Settle down, Red. It’s all right.

My wolf pulled back, letting me keep control. More and more, as I grew to understand her, she seemed to listen to me. I walked into Eric’s house, measuring my steps, trying desperately to temper my fury.

I reached the living room and waited, eyes roving over the many