TYLER
Addison lay on the floor of the castle apothecary. Tyler had picked her up and run with her to the clinic, not wanting to waste a second waiting for the healer to arrive with his bag of potions. He draped a robe over himself as he anxiously waited for Taryn to pick up.
When she did, he explained the situation hurriedly. Taryn’s voice was almost as panicked as he felt while she gave him instructions from the other end of the phone. “You need to smell the dart and tell me what it smells of,” she told him.
He raised the vile object to his nose, his wolf senses picking up on the varying scents with ease.
“It smells almost sickly sweet,” he said. “But there is the stench of putrid death about it, too.”
There was silence at the end of the phone as Taryn thought. Every moment was agoni
