Prologue

      She had been a gift. Something that had fallen into his lap without any effort on his part. Surprisingly, she’d proven to be more satisfying than most of the others, all of whom had been carefully selected after weeks of study.

      It hadn’t been time to begin thinking about the next one. By now he was conscious of the smallest sign of that, even those he had once thought bore no relationship to his needs.

      A sense of anxiety that increased day by day until it became an urgency he could no longer ignore. The sensation that something wasn’t right in the pleasant world he inhabited. Those were inevitably followed by an indefinable feeling that things were slipping out of control. Then finally came the rage that still shocked him with its intensity.

      None of that had occurred. Not this time.

      Yet when he’d seen her standing on the street corner in the rain, strands of dark hair plastered against those alabaster cheeks, the compulsion to take her and make her his had been overwhelming. Irresistible.

      This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be done. Not his normal attention to detail. But in this instance, he had no regrets that he had given in. His impulsive decision seemed to have worked out. And apparently no one was even looking for her.

      Which meant there was no need to hurry, he thought with a degree of anticipation beyond any he could remember. He literally had all the time in the world.

      Time for him. And for her.

      A gift, he thought again, brushing a stray tendril of hair off her cheek.

      When it was dry, her hair had demonstrated an unexpected tendency to