Page 19 of Courting the Tiger King

Instead, golden ones widened as they took in her scantily clad form and Neah cursed under her breath. “Your Majesty. I’m sorry. I was expecting someone else.”

The king hadn’t looked away from her, his eyes dropping to the damp spot her hair was making on the material above her breasts and then lower to the peaches and cream of her long legs. He swallowed hard and a muscle in his jaw ticked, as if her words irked him. “Please, call me Wren.”

“Wren,” she allowed, curiosity rearing its head as his eyes did their best to swallow her up. “Are you looking for Zennon? She should be here any moment.”

Was that relief that flitted across his face? Had he thought she’d been expecting a different kind of company? Why should he care?

“No, actually I was looking for you. I wanted to apologise for my behaviour at breakfast. I was a little out of sorts.” He ran a hand through his chin-length hair and appeared to be doing his best not to let his eyes slip down past her chin. “But I fear I’ve made a bigger mess of things now by bothering you while you’re…” He swallowed. “Indisposed.”

A smirk tugged at her mouth and she did her best to hide it as he sucked in his bottom lip and let his eyes flick down just once before he screwed them shut.

“Not at all.” What was she saying? Why was she torturing the poor man? King or not, he was clearly uncomfortable. “I was getting ready for the feast. I appreciate your apology, though I don’t feel it's warranted. Zennon tells me I can be abrasive in my protectiveness.”

“Right. Well, I’ll just leave you to–tothat.” He waved a hand towards her body and then looked pained, as if this were not at all how he’d imagined this conversation going. “And I’ll see you at the feast.” She nodded, amused when he turned around so quickly he must have been dizzy, and then hid her smile when he glanced back at her. “Oh, and wear comfortable shoes. There will be dancing afterwards.”

Joy. “Thank you for the warning.”

He chuckled and the sound was pleasant, warm and deep, and the animal inside her seemed to stretch languidly in response, watching through her eyes like the king was prey she wouldn’t mind tasting.

Neah closed the door sharply, uncomfortable with the way her beast reacted to him. Normally she experienced small twinges every now and then, but beyond her heightened senses she could have passed for human. But something about the king and what lurked under his skin called to the part of her trapped beneath hers—and that worried her more than the depth of his laugh or the gleam of hunger in his eyes. She’d given up on ever being able to shift, what would it mean if he was the one who brought it out of her?

This time when the knock at the door came, she called out first and was relieved to hear Zennon’s voice through the wood. As soon as she stepped inside, Neah vowed to forget the encounter with the king and instead focus on getting through the night.

CHAPTER TEN

WREN

Was it possible to be haunted by someone who wasn’t dead? That was how Wren felt, haunted by the scent of jasmine and tortured by a long length of leg. It was ridiculous, but more than that—it wasfrustrating.

Objectively, Neah was an attractive woman. But Wren had met plenty of attractive women in his time, had slept with a good share of them too, and yet none of them had occupied his thoughts quite like the shifter who sat demurely sipping her wine at the long table across from his.

She hadn’t even glanced his way when she’d walked in, wearing her own version of the dress Lady Zennon had worn to breakfast. On Zennon, the dress had been floaty and dreamy. On Neah? It was pure temptation, the gauzy movements of the high slit in the side of the gown luring him in with the promise of a glimpse of the lightly sun-kissed skin beneath. The dress felt like more of a suggestion of material than anything else, like if he looked at it the wrong way he might see more than he’d bargained for—except, he found he couldn’t think of anything else.

And still she sipped her drink, primly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin after she ate, and flawlessly selected the correctsilverware for each course of food. Not so much as one look at him. Herking.

“You’re staring,” Gabe muttered and Wren blinked, wrenching his stare away from the woman who shouldn’t have held so much of his attention. Perhaps he’d been mistaken for looking at the woman on Neah’s left, the one who was supposedly his mate.

He’d heard the same stories they all had of fated mates finding one another, of puzzle pieces slipping into place and other halves fitting an empty hole, but with Lady Zennon… There was no spark.Yet. It could come with time, maybe.

“I’m the king. I can stare if I want to,” he griped, but looked away and refocused on the final course in front of them. The chef had outdone themselves that evening, each dish exquisitely prepared and beautifully seasoned, but dessert had always been Wren’s favourite.

Crumble was no exception and he dug in with gusto, savouring the tartness of the apples and plums mixed with the sweet oat layer atop, smothered in a thick creamy sauce. It was the perfect late-summer dessert, in his opinion. He would eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if it had been deemedappropriatefor a king to do such a thing.

Most of the court was in attendance, the room filled with those seeking attention from the king, or even his favour, plus many a suitor who hoped to catch his eye. They’d kept his mate ceremony quiet, for the most part, with only a select few knowing who Lady Zennon was and why she mattered, but it was common knowledge that the ruling monarch often wed around their twenty-fifth birthday. Of course, the court didn’t know that the real reason was because of the curse that plagued his family line.

Once dessert was over, Wren stood and a hush fell over the room nearly instantly as all eyes turned to him. Well, almost all eyes.

What could be so interesting to her?Once again, Neah was preoccupied by chatting to the male shifter on her right and her undivided attention on the young member of the court made Wren’s skin prickle.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight. I’m sure you’ll all agree that Chef Markhane did an incredible job feeding us all. Now, if you’ll follow me, the festivities will truly begin.” He tried hard to keep the irritation out of his voice and thought he’d been successful until Skye leaned in to murmur in his ear.

“You okay? You’re looking a little… orange.”

Fuck. “Fine. Too much wine,” he muttered and vowed to get himself under control—the last thing this feast needed was a tiger on the dance floor.

The doors at the back of the room swung open and the string quartet immediately began playing. Beckoning the crowd inside, he strode across the room and immediately grabbed a glass of silver fizzy wine, downing it in one gulp.

“Whoa, easy tiger.”

---