Page 66 of Courting the Tiger King

“Not Romi,” Wren said, cutting her off. “Me.”

He’d scented the men in Neah’s room when they’d been there earlier and found Romi. If he shifted, he was certain he could tellwhich of Jamison’s men was responsible. And then they would do what they had to in order to discover their allegiances.

“What makes you so sure they’ll be in the line-up? Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to hide out?” Zennon frowned, righting her chair and dropping back into it abruptly.

“They have to be working for someone,” Sonnet said and Wren realised the witch had been very quiet up til now. “They tried to kill Romi so she couldn’t identify them, they either didn’t think about a shifter being able to find them, or they thought the scent would have faded by the time anyone came to check on Neah.”

“Or,” Wren added, “they didn’t care if a shifter could find them, because they’re hiding.”

“Well, it’s the best shot we have,” Jamison snapped. “I’ll call for the assembly. Let’s hope they fall on the side of stupid, rather than absent.”

Wren didn’t argue, just let the captain make the arrangements while Zennon spoke soothingly to Romi.

“Do you really think you can find them by scent?” Romi’s words were quiet but caught Wren’s attention all the same.

He nodded. “If they’re here, I’ll scent them. I’ll shift, because my tiger’s nose is sharper than mine. I’m just…”

“Not sure if you can turn back,” Gabe surmised and Wren nodded, knowing his friend understood from personal experience. Wren was having a hard enough time holding his tiger at bay already when all his instincts wanted to stalk from room to room and tear the palace apart, but he needed to have control. For Neah’s sake.

Jamison’s messengers were sent out and before long, a parade of men stood in the corridor outside of the healer’s wing.

“Are you ready?” Wren nodded and halted when Jamison stopped his approach with a hand to the chest. “No matter whatyou smell on them, you cannotlose it. We’ll need to question them. Their deaths could spell my daughter’s. Understand?”

“I understand.” The words were laced with a growl and Wren let the change snap over him, faster than it ever had before.

Jamison led him around a corner and the men stood straight, eyes forward, open curiosity on some faces, worry on others as Wren approached them in his tiger form.

The men stood in lines facing each other, winding down the corridor that led back toward the stairs. Wren looked up at the captain and he nodded, indicating everyone was present. Then Wren began his hunt.

He walked the line, pausing to inhale deeply, searching for Neah’s scent among the guards. Each guard met his eyes before hastily looking away in an effort not to challenge him, some hearts beat faster, harder, at Wren’s approach, but so far there was no trace of Neah.

He continued stalking past, and had passed a guard whose sweat smelled like the trees outside when he paused.

There.

Nearly undetectable. He’d tried to scrub it away with soap, but the metallic tang of blood, Romi’s Wren could tell, still lingered.

He fell still and the guard’s breaths increased, muscles twitching like he longed to run but knew it would end badly. Wren turned and the man went pale.

One step. Two. The guard looked ready to bolt but fear quickly locked him in place when Wren stopped in front of him and inhaled.

The scent was unmistakable and finding it on another male while his mate’s whereabouts were unknown… Untenable.

A muscle twitched and Wren waited, sensing Jamison’s approach as the guard’s leg jerked like his body wanted to run even as his mind told him to stand still.

Wren looked into the man’s eyes, pupils blown wide, and snarled. It was a warning as much as it was a threat—if he ran, Wren wouldn’t be able to hold himself back.

The seconds stretched on as the guard looked at Wren, then down the hall to where Jamison strode toward them, and made his decision.

Like a spooked deer, the guard fled. Or tried. He made it five paces before Wren’s paws slammed into his back and his teeth closed around the guard’s arm. Jamison had broken into a run, his footfalls loud, and he reached them within seconds and nodded to Wren, as if to praise his self-control. The man’s arm was mangled and Wren spat the blood onto the floor, wanting no part of the guard inside him. But he hadn’t killed him—yet. And that was a win.

“Two,” Jamison said, a reminder and Wren huffed as he left the guard with Jamison while he continued his pursuit to find the second guard.

The second one was easiest to find, mostly on account of the fact that he’d pissed himself watching Wren take down his comrade. Beneath the stench he scented more blood and Neah. The smell of her fear was stronger on this one and Wren would have wagered money thatthiswas the one who had hurt her. Rage made him bare his teeth, and the reflection of his fangs showed in the guard’s wide eyes. They only needed one, right? Surely this one, the one who had hurt his mate, wasn’t needed.

Decision made, Wren prepared to leap and a streak of dark fur flew into him from the side. Hackles raised, the black cat snarled viciously, the sound grating, and Wren roared back before standing down. For whatever reason, Jamison wanted this one alive.

The captain returned to two legs with a flash of light and a glare at Wren. “Alive,” he hissed. “You can have him when we’re done.”

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