Night crept with the lavender fingers of dusk. An ending to many people’s days, the start of mine. Puget Sound air, crisp and cold, brushed my skin like silk. Seattle air. Heavier than Oregon’s, reflecting the chaotic masses that made up downtown Seattle. But there were still so many.

So many of them, so few of us.

Looks caressed me like invisible touches, drawn by my lush beauty, my ethereal appearance. The generous curve of my mouth, the emerald glint in my eyes. Nothing really unusual to draw eyes except the rich chocolate hue of my hair, which was seemingly unusual with my pale skin, so human with the looks men said were so attractive.

I could feel the instant lust aimed towards me by the surrounding male population, almost hear their plans to approach me, invite me in their beds. Unfortunately for them, I always declined. I was not one of them. And I did not want to give one human the deep, unworldly sastification when I was in bed. Then I would be handed around like a pawn.

Suddenly, I felt a different gaze. One of my kind.

My head turned, I stopped walking. A Seductor male, astoundingly beautiful even by our standards. His sensual mouth curved in a smile, his brown eyes still fixed on mine. He began to approach me, the walk masculine, confident. I met him halfway.

For a moment, we stared at each other. I took in the lean jaw, the nutmeg-colored skin, the luxuriant black mane brushing his shoulders.

Finally, he held out his hand, “Gael,”

I shook it, “Esme,”

He smiled again, “Are you here for the Gathering?” His voice was a light baritone, curving irresistibly around his Catalan accent.

I nodded.

“Have you a mate?”

This time I shook my head. Gael raised one brow.

“You rejected them,” he stated flatly. Matter-of-fact.

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you have a lady?”

“No,” Gael admitted.

For a moment, there was silence and I read Gael’s thoughts in the brown depths of his eyes. And voiced them.

“Why don’t you become my mate?” I asked.

Gael reached up, brushed my hair back from my neck. From the right side where the birthmark was.

“A worthy offer from a Queen. One of the Night Women, no less.” Gael stroked it lightly and then his thumb touched on my accelerating pulse. “Yet, you are new. You are inexperienced. You need protection.”

“You can give it to me,” I suggested.

“One man cannot defend a Night Queen,”

“I’ll find more,” I promised. “You can help me out,”

Gael smiled once more, brought my hand to his lips and said, “I accept,”