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Taller by a head than any Mellusian, his broad shoulders nearly blocked out the sight of the two heralds dogging his steps as they attempted to halt him. He seemed not the slightest bit interested in following protocol by waiting for his name to be addressed to the assemblage. As if anyone attending the ceremony hadn’t already guessed who he was!

He’d also eschewed the fine wedding tunic Mora’s mother had personally designed—an embroidered silk affair that would have stretched absurdly across his bulging chest and arms.

No, he wore a vest of gray animal pelts that parted at the front, no doubt to tempt a woman’s gaze to ogle his obscenely muscled chest and follow the dark arrow of hair down his hewn abdomen. The black sueded leather that encased his legs, strained over thickly corded thighs and the alarming swell of his manhood.

Mora’s heart tripped, and then fluttered like the wings of an aradil.

Her mouth dry, she forced her gaze upward to look at his face, but found no comfort there.

Lord Tetrik of Kronak—his name was as harsh as the angles of his square jaw and the sharp blade of his nose. His hair was dark like a moonless sky and worn like the old warriors in the paintings in History Hall—hanging past his shoulders with small braids on either side of his inflexible face. But his eyes frightened her most of all—chips of blue ice froze her in place as his gaze found hers across the noisy hall.

He would have to know she was his bride. She wore her wealth and importance in the weighty jewels studding her hair and gown and encircling her neck. She saw fury in that first glance. Had he already guessed he’d been cheated of the true prize? That her rich adornment was a ruse?

Her mother moaned behind her. “His ambassador said he was too busy to attend such an insignificant event. You should have worn the pink gown!” her mother hissed.

“It was covered in dirt, mother,” Mora whispered, keeping her gaze pinned on the man walking straight toward her. “It’s too late now, anyway. The ceremony is over.”

“He may still repudiate you. Oh, what were you thinking, digging in the garden on your wedding day?”

“I wanted a tuber rose to take with me to my new home.”

“As if a rose will grow in their rocky soil,” her mother said, her voice becoming thin and breathy the closer the warrior drew.

Mora hoped her mother didn’t choose this moment to faint. She suspected the Kronaki leader would scorn a woman frightened by the mere sight of him.

“That green makes your cheeks sallow,” her mother lamented, working herself into a high state of agitation. “You look as though you’re attending your own funeral.”

Mora couldn’t resist delivering a little dig. “Am I not? What do you think he’ll do once he finds himself wed to the wrong sister?”

“You should have worn the pink! It would have shown you to advantage.” She sounded on the verge of tears.

Her mother’s diatribe wore on Mora’s nerves. “Mother, it doesn’t matter if I wear the pink or the green, I’m no beauty. He will know. And by the look of that scowl he wears, he already does.”

“May the Goddess save us!”

“Hush, Hespha!” Her father finally intervened. “You frighten our daughter.”

Only that wasn’t quite true. Her mother’s words had the opposite effect, reminding Mora that by rights, her older sister should have been the one sacrificed to honor The Promise. But her sister had been deemed too delicate and hidden away when the day came to repay the decade-old debt owed the Kronaki. “She’d never survive the rigors of life on that harsh planet,” her father had said.

Her mother had been only too eager to agree to the substitution. Her delicate, slender little flower wouldn’t be surrendered to the barbarian. Instead, Mora stood in her place. She was anything but delicate—a fact that had pained and embarrassed her parents to no end all her life.

A flush of anger heated Mora’s cheeks. Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the primitive emotion. Her parents thought so little of her they were willing to marry her to a beast. A black-haired beast that grew more enormous and intimidating as he approached the dais upon which most of the members of the Mellusian royal family stood.

Mora straightened her shoulders. Jewels and a fine gown would not deceive the man. She was dull quartz against the bright, blonde diamonds glittering inside the hall.

He stopped in front of the dais. The room fell silent while all in the assemblage strained to hear what he might say. His cold gaze raked her from head to toe. Even standing on the raised platform, she had to tilt her head to meet his glance.

Panic had her body tightening. Mora raised her chin another notch, unwilling to let him see her fear.

He lifted one dark brow, and his gaze swept her face, lingering over her lips. “What is your name?”

He knew! “Mora. I am Mora,” she said, surprised the words escaped her tight throat. Would he reject her? Strangely, she wasn’t certain she’d feel relief if he deemed her unfit. Humiliation at his hands would be the harder emotion to swallow.

His gaze cut to her father, and he nodded once. “It is done,” he said, his deep voice terse. Then he turned and offered her his hand.

As Mora realized his curt statement meant he would accept her as his bride, emotion pricked her eyes. He would have her. Although she wasn’t the beauty he’d been promised, he accepted her as wife. She blinked and drew in a deep breath. She’d not shame herself by giving way to tears. Although she might be the least favored daughter, she was wed now—and to the fiercest warrior of the covenant worlds.

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Sanders’ subtle body language indicated that the issue had already been resolved. Changing the Cap’s mind was like changing a blown-out tire mid-chase. It was impossible, and Jace knew it. Feeling ticked off, Jace grunted and starched his spine. How in the hell was he going to get out of this one?

He made one more desperate attempt. “Come on, Captain—”

With a wave of his hand Sanders cut him off. “You know as well as I do that we’ve been having trouble tracking the newest breed of werewolves encroaching upon the city. Since they’re able to evade us at every turn, we can use all the help we can get.”

Jace raked his fingers through his hair and grunted something incomprehensible. He couldn’t argue that point. Lucas, a powerful alpha wolf, was the main suspect in a recent rash of murders throughout the city. But without any solid proof, they had to catch him in the act in order to make an arrest. They needed to do it fast, before widespread pandemonium broke out. If the public ever found out there were werewolves—not simply a wild pack of dogs—terrorizing the city, the department would have one hell of a situation on their hands.

Sanders jerked his thumb toward the window. Jace’s gaze followed the movement. Silvery stars began to dot the evening sky as the descending summer sun kissed the horizon. Jace snarled, the darkening sky a fitting match for his mood.

“The full moon is only a couple of days away and we have to remain tight on his tail until he transforms. That’s why we need Skylar’s help,” Sanders added. He hooked his fingers through his belt loop and leaned back another inch.

Great. What a way to top off his perfectly shitty day. As if being partnered with a psychic wasn’t bad enough. Now fate had thrown a full moon into the equation to really complicate matters for him.

Jace resisted the urge to kick his Captain’s chair out from underneath him. The juvenile side of him enjoyed the mental image of the robust man thudding to the floor. Instead of acting on his anger, he fisted his hands and continued to stalk back and forth.

He’d be smart not to piss off the Captain again. Walking the beat was right up there with babysitting a woman with supersensory powers.

A fresh wave of anger pitched though him. “I don’t need a psychic to help me track him. All I need is a few more days, a big-ass Uzi and a clip of silver bullets,” he snapped.

Blood pounded through Jace’s veins as he fought to keep his rage in check. Just how competent was Skylar? He knew the department had used her to track before, but was she skilled enough to discover his secret?

Jace lowered his voice and switched tactics. “Come on, Cap, call her off.”

“Too late.” Sanders’ gaze zeroed in on a spot just beyond Jace’s shoulder. “She’s already here.”

A stream of profanity spewed from Jace’s mouth as he twisted around. All hope seeped out of him like smoke from a chimney. There she was, leaning against the doorjamb, her expression serene, unreadable.

He did a slow perusal of the woman before him. He’d seen her around the office before, had quite often admired her sweet body from afar, but he’d always been careful to avoid contact. This was his first encounter with her up close and personal and there was no denying it, she was exquisite. Her honey-tanned face was a combination of sculpted angles and soft curves. She had a perfect nose with a sexy little slope tipping the end.

She lifted her gaze and met his. The minute their eyes met Jace felt a familiar stirring deep inside his groin. Her eyes were a fascinating color of green, rimmed by a halo of warm golden flecks. Cat eyes—eyes that could see into the very depths of darkness. Jace shivered.
Skylar took a tiny step forward and offered her hand.

His heightened senses were immediately assaulted with her arousing feminine scent, leaving him feeling slightly lightheaded. It took a moment to register that the sharp intake of breath he heard was his own.

She smelled like the beach on a warm, summer day. A dangerous mixture to a guy who spent his time hunting wild beasts. A wave of lust gravitated to his cock as he inhaled her delectable aroma. At that moment all he could think about was whether she’d taste as sweet as she smelled.

He widened his stance and closed his hand over hers. Heat curled through his body when skin contacted skin. He gazed at the petite woman smiling up at him and shifted his glance downward. She wore a summery, knee-length skirt that hugged her curvy hips and a yellow, flowery, sleeveless blouse that exposed just a hint of cleavage and revealed she spent many hours in the sun. He rolled his tongue around a suddenly dry mouth as his attention drifted back to her face. Sexy, mysterious eyes peeked out from underneath long, silky lashes. Buttery curls framed her flawless skin and billowed over her slender shoulders.

His gaze settled on her mouth. And what an exquisite mouth it was. She had the most amazing, luscious lips. For a moment he wondered if that glossy lipstick of hers would smear if she slid her gorgeous mouth down the length of his body. His cock tightened and he smothered a moan that gathered in his throat.

Damn. She was hotter than his leather car seats during a heat wave. He sidled closer and towered over her. Once again, he was swamped by her evocative scent.

She graced him with a becoming smile. This woman emitted an aura of quiet confidence and strength of character that he found rather fascinating. When she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to her pretty pink lips, a heady rush of adrenaline fired his blood.

“I’m Skylar Bray. It’s nice to meet you, Agent Garrett.”

Her sultry voice was as bewitching as the woman herself, and he felt himself being pulled under by her spell. He shuddered involuntarily and blinked his mind back into focus.

“Call me Jace,” he mumbled and tried not the think about the way his entire body tightened at the sound of her voice.

He took a moment to note his physical reaction to her then fought to clear his arousal-fogged brain and gain control over the situation.

He wanted to step back, to break away from her delectable aroma as it perfumed the air, but something compelled him to remain close. His legs wouldn’t carry him away from this intoxicating woman. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything when his senses were overcome with her hypnotizing scent? He somehow had to find a way, because he needed his wits about him in order to gauge the strength of her powers.

Would she be able to sense the wolf stirring within him?

He watched the play of emotions cross her face and wondered what she was thinking. Was she trying to reach into the depths of his mind, to glimpse the area that he’d kept suppressed for so many years?

“I guess we’re going to be partners for the next couple of days,” she said. There was something about the lilt in her voice that drew him in. It got under his skin and warmed his body like the buzz of a fine wine.

“Guess so,” he mumbled. Did she have any idea what she was getting herself into? Tracking a werewolf was a far cry from a day at the beach. She could get hurt or, even worse, killed.
“Don’t worry, Jace. I know what I’m doing.” She folded her arms across her chest and met his gaze unflinchingly.

Great. Now fate had tossed in a little mind reading to really fuck things up. He frowned and shook his head.

She flung her wavy curls off her shoulders and quirked a small smile. “No, I can’t read your mind. Captain Sanders warned me you’d be leery.”

He cocked one brow in the Cap’s direction. Leery? That wasn’t the word he’d choose.

More like downright opposed.

His Captain stood and moved to the front of his desk. Arms folded across his barrel chest, his gaze darted between Jace and Skylar. “You two play nice.” With that, he made his way out into the hall. “And keep safe,” he tossed over his shoulder as he disappeared from their line of vision.
Jace turned his attention back to Skylar. He studied the petite woman before him. The first woman in a long time to rouse such a primal reaction in him.

The one woman he had to keep his distance from.

God dammit!

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