Page 87 of The Kingdom's Crown

"Is it…worth stopping her—"

"Imagine Bryony's reaction if she eats her sister!"

Not eat. Bad meat. Slay. Hunt. Protect my mates.

My Chosen. I couldn'tkillCamellia. Not like this. But I wanted her to see me. To know she was weak and small and fragile and would fit in my jaws like a snack. That I could pin her down with my great paws, and she would have no strength to make me budge.

"Bryony, stop!"

It was my name, after all. How disappointing.

Pieces of the woman, the human, were returning, my pace beginning to falter and slow. I huffed, and with it came a great taste of my prey, sour and sickly and stained. Bad meat. My hackles rose, and my growl broke free. I was close.

Footsteps chased closer, and one of my memory men skidded in front of me, his face red and eyes so wide I could see the whites. He smelled of anger and fear and magic. Something sweet too, that made the woman in me want to sit on her haunches and preen for him.

"Princess," he growled, and I bared my teeth in answer. "You cannot go in."

There was magic gathering in his hands, and it tasted like flint sparks on my fat tongue. I shook my fur in answer, lowering into a crouch, warning him I would pounce if he didn't move.

"I don't want to hurt you," he warned.

I growled. Threat.

The magic released from his hands, and I leapt up with a roar. It crashed into my chest, but I knew its flavor. It wasmymagic not his. The man dashed out of the way, and I slammed into the doors, wearing magic in my fur as I crashed against its surface.

They parted for me, and I snarled at the first wave. Pain, fear, anger, sex. Bad meat.

Two-legger men, weak and frail and sickly, scrambled out of my way, my men barking orders behind me. The trail was rich in the air, spoiled milk.

Camellia. Sister. Danger. Predator and prey.

The bear, Cress, padded at my side, ready to intervene, trying to push himself in my way, but I was too quick and sleek, and he was too devoted to harm me.

Camellia was on the floor mating, with the flavor of anger dense around her. She screamed at my arrival, scrambling off the man's cock and then kicking him in my direction. She was bone and brittle, so small, and I growled at her over and over, a low and steady rumbling warning as she wormed back until she hit the bed. Human words fell from her lips, garbled and pleading, but no apologies. She was afraid, but only for the moment. Only because she was faced with tooth and claw and strength where she had none. Her magic was there, but it fizzled weakly against me, and she flinched when it bounced away and struck her instead.

"Mistress."

I snapped at Cress when he tried to step between us again, bit his shoulder in warning, although he didn't move.

"Mistress, look how fine you look."

Something soft brushed my shoulder. My shoulders flexed, but the touch wasn't unpleasant. A slow steady rub between my shoulder blades, as if I were a kitten.

A two-legger, one of mine, crouched at my side, ignoring the stench of Camellia as he bowed his head and nuzzled against mine, just behind my ears. Familiar and animal and sweet. Another hand reached bravely for my snarling jaw, fingers scratching into fur as I continued to growl.

"You always have been, and always will be, the finest creature I've ever laid eyes on."

There was another kind of magic, but this wasn't mine. It was gentle, like a blanket, but it sank into me, softening my snarls, soothing my muscles.

"Not like this," Owen whispered in my ear, making me twitch with the tickle of his breath.

"You—you… It can't be," Camellia gasped, staring at me. "It can't."

I roared and lunged, and she screamed and cowered, eyes slamming shut. I laughed, chuffing and pulled back again, watching her tremble weakly.

All the while, Owen petted me. Calm, fearless, patient. My head turned, butting into his shoulder, and he hummed happily, working that strange sweet magic of his to calm me. I was calm. As tempting as it was to bite Camellia—she'd earned it—the tiger in me knew she would taste horrible. And the woman—I, Bryony—knew that I couldn't use the excuse of being a tiger to kill my sister. I was trying to prove that the two-naturedweren'tdangerous, and such an act would undo everything.

Guilt, a purely human emotion, sank uneasily into me, and with it, the tiger stepped back.

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