Check out this teaser of the next book in Paige Tyler’s heart-pounding SWAT series

Remy didn’t realize how much he’d missed New Orleans, but as he walked down Bourbon Street basking in the ambience of the city he called home, he remembered why he loved it so much. To make it even better, he was getting the chance to show it off to the most important people in his life—his pack mates. SWAT officers-slash-werewolves Max Lowry, Jayden Brooks, and Zane Kendrick took in the bright lights, crowds of partying people, various music coming from nightclubs on either side of the street, and the unique combination of scents hanging in the air with a mix of curiosity and excitement.

His mouth twitched. Yeah, New Orleans had that kind of effect on people.

Gage Dixon, their boss, pack alpha, and commander of the Dallas SWAT team, had sent the four of them to New Orleans to cross-train with the city’s SWAT teams. At the same time, four officers from NOPD SWAT would take part in a weeklong exercise in Dallas. Cross-training with cops who weren’t werewolves meant hiding their abilities, so Gage had made his expectations extremely clear.

“Don’t run too fast, lift anything you shouldn’t be able to, let your tempers get away from you, and whatever you do, no claws, fangs, or frigging glowing eyes,” Gage reminded them before they’d left.

Remy let Zane and Max lead the way as the four of them headed down Bourbon Street.

“Is it always this wild here?” Zane asked as a group of attractive women passing by gave them long, lingering looks and dazzling smiles.

“Yeah, it’s always like this,” Remy confirmed. “New Orleans is a city that takes the concept of having a good time to a whole different level.”

Remy whipped his head around and sniffed the air when an unusual but extremely tantalizing scent caught his attention. His nose was okay, certainly nothing special. It made him wonder why he was picking up this particular smell so clearly.

There were a lot of scents on Bourbon Street. Sweat, booze, perfume, cigarette and cigar smoke, moldy wood, drugs, sex—you name it. This particular scent stuck out like a rose in the middle of all that other stuff, demanding his attention.

“Hey, you okay?” Brooks asked.

Brooks was one of his pack mates blessed with a good nose. Remy turned to the big guy.

“Do you smell that?” he asked.

Brooks sniffed. “I smell a lot of things. Which one are you talking about?”

“That flowery, spicy scent.”

Brooks sniffed again. Beside him, Max did the same. They both looked at him and shook their heads.

“I don’t smell anything like that,” Brooks said.

Remy breathed deeply through his nose and almost got weak-kneed. What was more, he actually started getting a boner. What the hell?

He glanced at Brooks and Max. “You guys are screwing with me, aren’t you? You seriously can’t smell that?”

He didn’t have a clue what the hell he was smelling, but he damn well knew he needed to figure out what it was. He’d go nuts if he didn’t.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said.

Zane and the other guys followed as he moved down the street.

He realized he was following a woman. He tried to tell himself that was insane. He’d smelled thousands of women since becoming a werewolf. None of them had ever possessed a spicy flowery scent this delectable. Not even close.

Remy walked faster. The curiosity was killing him. What kind of woman could generate a scent so powerful it gave him a hard-on the moment he caught a whiff?

He wasn’t sure how long he followed the scent, but the next thing he knew, he was walking into a nightclub with a throbbing dance beat. In bloodhound mode, he headed straight to the second floor, moving like an arrow shot through the crowded, noisy room until he was standing in the middle of the dance floor full of gyrating bodies.

Right there, dancing with her back to him in a group of four other women, was the source of the scent that had dragged him across the French Quarter. This close, the scent was damn near overwhelming. If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he probably would have leaned forward and licked the small portion of her neck that was exposed every time her long black hair swung aside. If she smelled this good, he could only imagine how she tasted.

He was trying to figure out the best way to initiate a conversation—tapping her on the shoulder and saying he’d been tracking her scent for blocks might come off a bit stalkerish—when the woman turned to face him.

Maybe she’d sensed him behind her, or perhaps it was because her friends had stopped dancing to stare over her shoulder at him. Either way, when she spun around, Remy swore his heart stopped beating for a second.

It was dark on the dance floor and the flashing strobes were bright enough to practically blind him, but it didn’t matter. The light brown–skinned beauty would have stood out in any light. Hell, she would have stood out in complete darkness, too.

He was still taking in the smoking hot curves, perfect skin, and exotic amber eyes when a realization struck him so hard he almost stumbled backward.

He knew her. Not in the biblical sense, though that was obviously one hell of a shame. He’d known her back in high school when she’d been a skinny, awkward teenager who never seemed to look anywhere but at the ground.

She was a lot different now—understatement there—and easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Now she possessed a confidence that made it hard to look at anything but her. Even with all the changes, he would have known her anywhere. He hadn’t talked to her since high school graduation, but they’d been friends, and probably would have been more if he hadn’t been such a chickenshit back then.

“Triana?”

Remy didn’t expect her to recognize him. While she’d grown from a girl into a woman, he’d grown from a boy into a werewolf. He looked a lot different than he had in high school.

Triana’s eyes widened. “Remy, is that seriously you?”

COMING JUNE 2017