“The danger of staring too long at a sigil is that it can leech away your control.”

The woman’s voice tore Roul’s gaze from the magical diamond-shaped mark that famous wizard artist Nick Diamond used to sign his paintings. A woman with long, blonde hair stood in the doorway. Her eyes met his easily and he realized she must be at least six feet tall. Then her scent slammed into him like a Mac truck: rosemary . . . and lemon. Sweet, spicy, tangy . . . his mind and his cock reacted in the same millisecond to her scent.

Mine!

The woman’s elegant brows flicked up as, with a fierce growl, his wolf roused. Possessiveness filled every atom of his body and he wondered briefly if the magic of the painting had gotten to him. Gods! He wanted her. All rational thought fled his brain, leaving behind only primal urges. Driven by his base needs, he promised himself that before dawn lit the sky, he would have her beneath him, moaning in supplication.

A sardonic expression settled on her elegant features, almost as if she’d heard his arrogant thoughts. “I can see I’m way too late with my warning about control,” she murmured, her lips curling in amusement.

Roul knew his hard cock blatantly strained the front of his jeans, but he didn’t care. His wolf wanted her to see how she aroused him. “I’m Roul Verlaine,” he said in a voice husky with lust.

The woman stepped toward him. “I know. I’m Morgan Kale. Welcome to New York.” She held out one elegant hand.

Shock rippled through him. He’d thought the head of the Watcher Agency was a man. Her eyebrows arched up as she gazed at him. Again, her expression gave him the sense that she’d heard his thoughts. “Are you an empath? A telepath?” he asked abruptly as he set his suitcase down and extended his hand toward hers.

Her polite smile became a wide grin. “I wish. It would make my work much easier.” Her palm met his and she shook his hand firmly, but briefly. As her fingers dropped away, she gestured toward the office door. “Please come in.”

Her touch unnerved him even more than the persistent notion that she could read his thoughts. Despite her assertion that she was neither empath nor telepath, Roul’s instincts told him to shield his thoughts as he often did with his twin brother. A woman like this one—professional, capable—wouldn’t give him the time of day if she had heard his arrogant thoughts about having her beneath him before dawn.

Roul’s eyes followed the swish of her lush hips in black linen slacks as she stepped past him and around the corner of the huge executive desk. As she sat down, his gaze traced the full curves of the breasts that strained the black silk of her shirt. His wolf salivated and his cock refused to go down.

Settling himself in a large, leather wingback chair, Roul surreptitiously adjusted himself more comfortably in his jeans and looked around the luxurious room. Like his attorney’s office, it exuded professionalism and a classic masculine style. His eyes returned to the woman who sat behind the desk. She watched him with pale, silver-grey eyes, her face impassive. His gaze shifted to her silvery blonde hair. He’d never seen anyone with such pale hair and eyes before . . .

Comprehension dawned and Roul sucked in a sharp breath. Instantly, he wished he hadn’t drawn the breath because her scent made his senses tingle. “You’re a wolf,” he said, feeling off balance and more than a little out of control.

Morgan Kale nodded. “Does that bother you?”

Her question told him that it must have bothered other clients. “Not at all,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve never met a white werewolf before. You’re not an albino? Just naturally white, like an arctic wolf?”

She nodded again and although her expression gave nothing away, Roul knew that talking about her status as a rare, white werewolf made her uncomfortable. “I share many of the same traits as the arctic wolves, but I am not one of them.”

Those six words told him everything he needed to know about her discomfort. “I am not one of them.” A lone wolf with a rare genetic mutation, obviously an Alpha lone wolf. And although she didn’t flaunt it, Roul sensed her immense power.

Smoothly, she turned to the laptop on her desk for a moment then raised her eyes to his again. “Just to reiterate our email exchange, you were upset to discover your brother mated someone he just met. The suddenness of his decision to walk away from his life to be with her made you anxious about his motivations and the woman he mated. Your interest in having them watched is to ensure that your brother is happy and hasn’t been taken advantage of in some manner.”

Morgan handed him a leather portfolio, her eyes returning to the computer. “Based on the information you provided, we located your brother and his new mate. While it is unusual for werewolves to mate so quickly, it is not unheard of. There is nothing in either your brother’s past or his mate’s to indicate that either is mentally unstable. However, because we understand how unnerving your twin’s sudden actions are for you, as part of our service, we compiled a dossier on Dante Allerton and her family.”

For a moment, their eyes met, then her jaw tightened and her gaze deliberately shifted back to her computer. “My best watcher is already in place. She will shadow your twin and his new mate until her shift ends at midnight. At that time, her partner will take over. Joey and Angel are a bonded couple, empaths, specially trained to shadow immortals. Ranulf and Dante will never know they are there.”

Her cool, businesslike tone made him yearn to leap over the desk and rip her clothes off so he could touch her skin. Her scent bombarded his senses until he could barely focus. Visions of himself fucking her played in his head like a movie he couldn’t shut off. And his cock just kept getting harder. Frustration ran rampant within him, and he wondered if the sigil really had done something to him because his usual, unwavering control felt totally shattered.

Roul looked up from the closed portfolio. Morgan’s pale eyes met his . . . and held. She drew a deep breath and her nostrils flared, yet she didn’t look away from his gaze. Then a chink in her armor appeared. She bit her lower lip, her white teeth sinking into the rose colored flesh. Heat suffused Roul’s groin.

“You’ll receive an email report at the end of each shift detailing the couple’s movements,” she said softly, her tone distracted. She drew another deep breath and a visible shiver went through her. Her eyes dropped from his. “I’ll show you to the guest loft now.”

Roul gathered up his things and followed her to an elevator. Morgan pressed the button. The door slid open and she stepped into the car. He joined her, and the door closed. He noticed that the building only had three floors and the elevator took them to the top floor. As the door slid open, exposing a beautifully decorated loft apartment, he wondered what was on the second level.

Morgan sounded like an impersonal tour director as she pointed out the amenities in the loft: fully-stocked kitchen and bar, maid service, concierge service, a small gym, a terrace, a sauna and Jacuzzi, an office with WiFi, a living room with a plasma TV, a luxurious bathroom, and a huge bedroom that offered a magnificent view of Manhattan.

Roul dropped his suitcase and laptop on a chaise near the bed and walked slowly toward her. Morgan stood with one hand on the bed’s carved post, her slender body backlit by the lights of the city. He wanted her with a fierceness he’d never known before. It surprised him. The swift onslaught of his desire did too. One whiff of her unique scent had put his cock and his wolf in the driver’s seat, relegating his logical brain to the backseat. He didn’t know anything about her and yet, his senses pinged like an alarm going off the closer he got to her.

He reached up and threaded her long, silky hair through his fingers. “I don’t know you . . . ” he began, his voice low.

Morgan’s fingers curled around his wrist, stopping the movement of his hand. “We don’t know each other.” Her eyes held his intently. “And I’ll probably hate myself tomorrow for saying this, but my were-senses are going crazy. I don’t know what kind of cologne that is, but—”

“I don’t wear cologne,” he interrupted her.

Her eyes went wide and he caught the faintest trace of fear before she quickly schooled her expression. “I have to go. If you need anything, please call the concierge.”

She took two strides away from him before he reached out and caught her around the waist, hauling her back against his body. “I need you. If I call the concierge, will he deliver you to me?” he growled and lowered his head to hers.

The first taste of her mouth sent Roul’s wolf into bliss-induced heaven. Even his logical brain was overcome with lust. His tongue teased the seam of her lips as he fitted his hips to hers. Rubbing his erection against her lower belly, pleasure throbbed throughout his body. Her rosemary-lemon scent grew stronger as her mouth opened to the thrust of his tongue.

Everything in his life—every person, every responsibility—faded away until his only focus was the woman in his arms. Roul’s wolf slipped the leash of his control and growled possessively, urging him to take her. His hands cupped her firm ass, pressing her closer to his body. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and the tribal bands of his wolf clan markings came alive with sensation, making his skin itch to feel her touch. Quickly, without breaking the deep kiss they shared, he ripped off his jacket and shirt. The instant her fingers touched the tattoo-like marks on his shoulders, he knew it wasn’t the sigil that shattered his control. It was Morgan Kale.