Safely concealed by darkness and a net curtain on the second floor, Darce watched the little drama play out in the courtyard below. His amber eyes tracked the tall woman as she holstered her pistol. She stood for a long moment, just looking at the body in front of her. That had been real anguish and anger on her face. Definitely a history with whoever the RA had been when he was alive. Without intervention from his brain, his eyes returned to caress the lines of her slender image. Dressed for combat in black battle fatigues, complete with tac-rig and enough weaponry to give a survival nut a serious hard-on, she was a walking wet dream for a guy like him. Not just for a guy like him. For him. As he’d opened the main doors, the wind had changed direction for a second and he’d caught a trace of her scent. The fragrance had hit him broadside, reached deep inside him and stole his ability to breathe right out of his lungs. As soon as he’d caught her scent, he knew. She was the one.
