Free Of Love and Darkness by Tami Lund Page A

and eating out of bowls of chips and pretzels. Several empty pizza cartons were stacked on the dining room table, and beer bottles littered every horizontal surface. The television was on, and a hockey game flashed across the screen.
    “Did I miss the invite to the shifter convention?” he asked as he strode into the center of the living room and turned a full circle, so as to take in the appearance of every being in the room. They were all shifters, all Light Ones of varying ages and appearances.
    One shaggy blond-haired one looked like he wasn’t even old enough to legally drink yet—in Canada, where the drinking age was only nineteen. Another had a healthy dose of gray streaks in his otherwise jet-black hair. Shifters were immortal, if they weren’t killed, but they still aged, however gradually. He figured this guy must be as old as dirt. He’d probably had some personal friends who were dinosaurs.
    The third shifter could be a shoe-in as a Matador, if someone gave him a red cape and a massive, angry bull. Gavin decided that wasn’t a bad idea.
    Nate, whose neck was an unhealthy black and purple color, stood and pointed at each shifter in turn. “Jack, Hugo, and Ignacio. This is Gavin. He’s our competition. He thinks they’re already mated.” Nate’s voice was still hoarse. Gavin couldn’t hide his smirk. His chokehold had obviously done some damage to Nate’s vocal cords.
    Gavin wondered why they did not consider one another to be competition.
    “He’s not a Light One,” Ignacio the Matador pointed out with a sniff.
    “Cursed Rakshasa,” Nate explained.
    “What does that mean?” the one Gavin guessed was Jack asked.
    “About two hundred years ago, a Fate named Prim cast a spell on him, cursing him to believe he has to act on behalf of the Light Ones and humanity, even though he still feels all of his Rakshasa urges.”
    Apparently, this one had been chatting with William while Gavin was away. Which turned out not to be a bad thing, as a collective, “Oh-h-h,” went around the room and Gavin suspected their respect level increased a notch or two. Good. They should be afraid.
    “Why are you all here?” Gavin asked to the room at large, even though he was certain he already knew the answer. Damn Sydney for not sleeping with him yet.
    “We’ve come to woo the Chala,” Ignacio replied with a flourish that reinforced Gavin’s original desire to find a bull. Preferably an angry one.
    “You should call her that when you woo her,” Gavin suggested solemnly. “She really likes it.”
    “Good to know,” the matador proclaimed with a stiff nod.
    All’s fair in love and war and all that.
    “Where’s the Fate who lives here?” Gavin asked. It was well after six. William should have been home by now.
    “He went to the grocery store,” Nate replied. “Said he didn’t have nearly enough food to go around. He took Quentin with him.”
    “There’s another one?”
    Nate nodded.
    “Fuck me,” Gavin muttered as he walked into the dining room and filled a lowball glass half full of whiskey. He drained the glass and then took the bottle into Sydney’s bedroom.
    “Thank you for the ride,” Sydney said demurely as she slid into the passenger seat of William’s tiny yellow sports car.
    “No problem.”
    He guided the car away from the curb and Sydney leaned back in the buttery soft leather seat, glad to be off her feet for the first time in over ten hours. When events fell on weekdays, it was always more difficult, because her office work still had to be done as well. And this particular event had been more stressful than most because the men in attendance had taken an unnatural liking to her.
    It had been an intimate dinner party, a fundraiser, and most people in attendance were mated—no—married. Yet that did not stop the men from staring at her, flirting with her, even trying to slip her business cards with cell phone numbers scrawled on the backs. She’d never received so much attention