by Lynn Hagen
To distract himself, Dorian began to look around the inside of the Mustang. The car was pretty clean inside, well taken care of. Rick liked order. Dorian could tell. The black interior was shining, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.
The man had to have OCD.
Dorian wiped his finger across the dash and wasn’t surprised to find it clean. He had an urge to grab some dirt from outside and smear it across the squeaky clean dashboard. Instead, he opened the glove box and then slammed it shut.
What in the hell was his district manager doing with a gun in his glove box? For some strange reason, Dorian kept picturing Rick as the district manager of four chains of grocery stores, not a damn alpha of a changeling pack. It still hadn’t fully sunk in that Rick was not who he had appeared to be. Dorian wasn’t looking at him as Mr. Marcelo any longer, and that bothered him.
Glancing around to make sure he was alone, Dorian opened the glove box again, and left it open as he stared at the matte black gun. He knew nothing about guns and had never held one in his life. So why in the hell did he reach in and grab it?
It was heavier than the toy gun he had had as a kid.
Much heavier.
He turned it over, reading Smith & Wesson on the side of it, and Dorian had no clue what that meant. His dad would kick his ass if he knew Dorian had a gun in his hand right now. There was a part of him that was fascinated by the gun. He wanted to shoot it. But there was a bigger part of him that told him to put the damn thing back where he had found it.
Dorian carefully put it back and then closed the glove box.
He rubbed his hand down the front of his pants, trying to get the feeling of the gun off of him. The feeling was exciting him. His fingers were tingling to hold it once more. Never being trained to use one, he needed to leave Rick’s gun alone.
That would be the wise decision.
Dorian wasn’t always wise—letting Miguel talk him into dinner was proof of that—but he would behave himself.
Dorian slid down into the seat, wondering how long the meeting was going to take and when everyone would leave. He was tired and hungry. His eyes snapped over to the porch when he saw Rick walk out. Maybe the meeting was over and everyone would go home.
Good riddance.
Rick turned when someone else walked out behind him. The district manager stood there talking to some woman. She was a looker, even if Dorian’s tastes didn’t run that way. He knew a pretty woman when he saw one. The one thing that stood out about her were the curves. The woman was thick with them. Her deep auburn hair fell down her back in waves. She was definitely pretty enough to catch any guy’s attention. A straight guy of course.
He wasn’t sure what they were talking—what the fuck? Did she just kiss him? He was going to kick her ass! Dorian slid further down in his seat. Why would he want to kick her ass? Hadn’t he protested being a candidate from the beginning? So why did it make his gut clench when he saw Rick’s hands slide around her waist?
Dorian looked away.
It bothered him. The sight of Rick kissing someone else bothered him. It shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t.
But it did.
He thought about the gun in the glove box and quickly dismissed the idea.
He wasn’t going to look.
Dorian looked.
She was petting Rick’s chest, smiling up at him.
Dorian looked away.
He looked at the glove box.
Fuck.
His hands clenched in his lap. His gut clenched tighter. He pushed his feet further up the floor mat and stared at the red car next to him, noticing that there was a necklace hanging from the rearview mirror.
Dorian looked back.
Rick was smiling at her.
Dorian looked away.
His anger began to simmer just around the edges. He glanced at the glove box. He should have never gone snooping. Temptation was a son of a bitch.
Why was he getting so mad? He didn’t want Rick. Dorian wanted out of this crazy situation. So why did he want to kill her and maim Rick?
When Dorian looked back at the porch, Rick was alone, walking down the steps toward the car. He stayed slumped in his seat, pretending he was studying the red car next to him. The interior was black.
Cool car.
The door opened.
“Meeting’s over. Everyone is heading out if you want to come inside.”
Dorian didn’t look at Rick. He was afraid that if he looked at Rick, he’d go for the glove box. Butterflies slammed around in his tightly knotted gut as he thought of Rick kissing that woman.
He shouldn’t care.
But he did.
“I’ll wait until they are gone.” Good for him. He had kept his tone even.
“Suit yourself.” The car door closed.
Bastard.
Rick watched as the last car drove away. The sun was setting and the sky was painted with hues of pink and reds. Rick loved sunsets. They were so peaceful, reminding him that life still held some beauty. He usually wasn’t this wistful, but the events of late were wearing him thin. Once again he was feeling his age. All he wanted to do was get a cup of coffee and sit on the porch, witnessing nature’s beauty as the sun sank beyond the mountains. It had been too long since he had indulged in something so simple.
But he couldn’t.
Dorian hadn’t gotten out of the car. As a matter of fact, the guy was sulking. Rick turned and walked inside, going over to the window, watching through the thin fall of lacey drapes.
Dorian got out of the car and slammed the door.
Rick winced. That was his baby. He didn’t like to see his Mustang mistreated. Dorian stood outside the car, talking to himself, kicking the air and snarling. What in the hell was wrong with the guy? He knew that Dorian was pissed about Rick wanting to eat the man, but he had had plenty of time to get over that.
He couldn’t still hold that against Rick, could he?
Dorian pointed at no one and screwed his face up, once again talking to no one. The man was nuts. He watched the guy slowly walk toward the house. Since everyone was gone, Rick was making sure Dorian was safe outside by himself, but the human’s behavior was baffling.
He stepped away from the curtain and took a seat on the couch just as the front door opened. Rick looked casual as he sat there. Dorian didn’t say a word. He walked past Rick and climbed the steps.
Rick watched him, wondering, until he smelled jealousy all over Dorian. It was so pungent that his nose wrinkled. It filled the room and made Rick cough. He was weary after the meeting with his pack, thoughts swirling in his head about the werehyenas, and now Dorian was acting strangely.
This was not one of his better days. At least it wasn’t as bad as yesterday. Rick pushed from the couch, locking the place up and shutting the lights off, except the one in the kitchen. There was a low setting and he used it.
Heading upstairs, Rick considered going into Dorian’s room, but let the man alone. If Dorian’s panties were still in a ruffle tomorrow, he would find out what was bugging the man. He wasn’t sure what to make of Dorian’s jealousy. Rick wanted to find out. He really did. But he was worn out and all he wanted to do was lie down and forget his life was falling apart.
Rick was making breakfast when Dorian came into the kitchen. He watched for signs of irritation or insanity, but all Dorian seemed to be was quiet. “Breakfast?”
“Thanks.” Dorian took a seat at the small table, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
“We have to take a ride today. I need to go see the master vampire of Hamilton.”
This got a reaction out of Dorian. “Why?”
“Because,” Rick said as he filled a plate with pancakes and sausage, setting it down in front of Dorian, “you don’t enter into his region unless you ask permission first. And the werehyenas live in Kraven’s territory. If we want safe passage, we have to ask first.”
Dorian grew quiet.
“It won’t be until after sunset.” He wasn’t sure
why he had added that fact, but seeing Dorian so quiet bothered Rick. The man was usually a pistol. Rick had learned a little about Dorian in the last few days. The man had an opinion and wasn’t afraid to voice it. So why was he sitting here as if someone stole his favorite chew toy?
“What happens if we go there without asking permission?” Dorian grabbed his orange juice and took a sip, his eyes downcast. Rick was the one becoming irritated now. He didn’t like to see Dorian like this. The man should be spouting out witty bards, or telling Rick this wasn’t his way of life and he didn’t belong here.
“Then we get a visit from the Mãos da Morte.”
This time Dorian looked up. “The what?”
“It’s Portuguese for ‘hands of death.’ They are a group of vampires who teach naughty people a lesson.” That was putting things mildly. Mãos da Morte stole into homes and killed the guilty before the person even knew they were there. They were the boogey men of the paranormal world. Even changelings feared them, which was saying a lot. Rick wasn’t sure why they had a Portuguese title since Kraven was Russian, but he wasn’t about to ask the vampire about it.
“How in the hell has all of this gone on right under our noses?” Dorian asked, some of that fire returning, his Peruvian-brown eyes scrutinizing. It was a look Rick didn’t like. “What else is there that we don’t know?”
Rick didn’t like the term we. It pitted Rick against Dorian, nonhuman against human. That set his back teeth to grinding. He wasn’t supposed to be pitted against his candidate. That wasn’t in the rule book. “More than you will ever find out, human.” Even if Rick wanted to share, there was no short version, and he wasn’t going to waste his day explaining the world he lived his daily life in.
It would be a waste if he wasn’t going to pick Dorian.
Silvia had already begged not to be picked last night on the porch. She had told Rick that she had been in love with George for over a year and they planned on marrying. She was even nice enough to offer her seven days to Dorian. Rick wasn’t sure how he was going to use those extra seven days, but he had a feeling he would need them for Dorian. Almost three weeks had passed him by since the party, but he was a little preoccupied with keeping him and Dorian out of jail to start dating anyone—that and he had been stalling for time before he decided to date Dorian first. Silvia even asked Rick to be the best man at her wedding. Rick had agreed. That was if he wasn’t behind bars when they said their vows.
That left Dorian and Omar.
Rick remembered how strange Omar was acting last night at the meeting. The man still wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, and Rick wasn’t going to badger the man to tell him. He had enough of his own problems at the moment. He was always there to help when someone needed it, but he wasn’t going to force the werewolf to talk if he wasn’t willing to.
Two candidates.
Two men acting strangely.
Rick was getting a damn headache. He wasn’t about to waste his day trying to figure them out either. He had things to do, stuff to set into motion. Worrying about Omar sulking or what burr was up Dorian’s ass wasn’t on his to-do list.
Rick finished his breakfast and walked into the study, using the phone. He called his top enforcer as he blew out a long breath. He wasn’t going to let Dorian ruin his day. There was too much to get done to be distracted by the man.
“Hey, Rick.”
“Have you got any information for me?”
“Some,” Nate replied. “It seems the judge responsible for issuing the warrant for Dorian and then you has conveniently taken a vacation. The case has been handed off to homicide, two seasoned vets that don’t give up. They’ve already grilled Dorian’s parents and been over to your place. They even questioned people at your job. Some female named Cherry told the detective’s that she thinks you are changeling.”
Rick knew Cherry was trouble. He had heard her quiet accusations while at work. Maybe he would send Selene over to have a talk with that loose-lipped human. Selene was right under Nate, and she was no one to mess with. The female enforcer had fought her way to her position, and held on to the title viciously.
“What proof do they have?”
“I’m still working on that,” Nate said. “Our guy on the inside is having trouble finding that information out. It seems everyone is tight-lipped about what’s going on. He thinks that they are trying to make an example out of you and Dorian. If they can prove that you killed those three men, or had a hand in it, then they can prove that changelings are savages and shouldn’t be allowed to live among humans.”
It was a quiet campaign to rid the world of nonhumans. How convenient. Rick was not going to allow himself to be used as the catalyst to start a war. Humans would wipe out changelings. As great a number as there was, on the nonhuman side, it wasn’t high enough to win. That scared him worse than the thought of being forced to mate. Rick already had a low opinion of humans, and this was not helping. Dorian was starting to change his mind, but hearing that they were being used as cannon fodder didn’t set well with him. “Find out what you can about the proof they have. I won’t be used as a pawn to prove changelings are nothing but animals.”
“How’s the nominee doing?” Nate asked.
Rick chuckled. “You like him.”
Nate didn’t deny it. “He’s cute, for a human.”
“Leave my candidate alone.”
“Fine, but if you don’t pick him, I’m going to be all over that. He’s got a nice ass and a handsome face to boot.” Nate chuckled. “I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I learn anything else.”
“Thanks,” Rick said before he hung up. He dialed another number.
“Remus,” the other man answered.
“It’s Rick.”
“Shit, do you know how many cops are looking for you right now? It’s all over the front page along with the news of how you and some human killed those changelings down at the waterfront. I don’t care if you did, but I’m just letting you know to lie low for a very long while.”
“It isn’t true. One of them was Alexander.”
Remus gave a low whistle. “Do you know who did it?”
“Not yet.”
“They are saying that you are using some sort of changeling mind control on the human, making him do bad things for you. How in the hell do you keep getting into—never mind. What do you need?”
Remus could go on and on. Rick was glad the man had cut himself off and gotten straight to the point. The wereleopard had an affinity for gossip. He wasn’t what one would consider friends with Remus, but they kept each other abreast of what was happening in the changeling society. Petty gossip, nothing more. No one knew Rick talked with Remus, not even Sasha, the alpha of Remus’s leap. But right now Rick was reaching out to anyone he trusted, trying to figure out what was going on. “I need you to get a hold of Sasha and tell him to call me.”
“He’s dealing with the wererats. They seem to have lost their damn minds lately, but I’ll tell him to get a hold of you.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Remus, I also need you to get help. The werehyenas have captured the rat king. See who you can gather and get his ass away from those fucking hyenas. I would do it myself, but seeing as how I’m on the run.” Rick knew why the wererats were acting out. Their king had been kidnapped. They were leaderless. He still had to help out their king, but right now Rick couldn’t think of how to do that without getting caught. He wasn’t abandoning the man. Rick just had to find a way to help that didn’t involve handcuffs and jail.
“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Remus asked. “I’ll gather the troops and get him out of there, but you owe me for this.”
Rick hung up and walked from the study when he heard a knock at the front door. It was Miguel and his cousin Benito.
“We wanted to come by and hang out for a while. Do you mind?”
Rick smiled. The two juveniles needed their alpha, but felt they were too grown up now to come out and say it. Changelings needed touch, needed re
assurance. Being newly matured, these two were seeking the approval and comfort of Rick. “Come on in, guys.”
Miguel smiled up at him as he walked past Rick. “Is Dorian still here?”
Rick shut the door and then pointed at the kitchen. “He’s eating breakfast.”
Benito walked into the kitchen as Miguel smiled up at Rick and then reached out, his hand stilling, asking for permission. Rick nodded. Miguel ran his hand down Rick’s arm, a look of comfort washing over his face. “Have you found anything out yet?”
Rick shook his head. He wasn’t getting the two involved in this mess. Miguel was still too naïve to be useful. Rick didn’t think anything wrong that Miguel was sweet and innocent, but dealing with the werehyenas was a little too tricky for someone not yet acquainted with the evilness of the world. “Nothing useful.” That wasn’t a lie. Nothing Rick had learned could help him at the moment. He was stuck hiding out.
Rick heard Dorian shout and then Benito came running out of the kitchen, a frown on his face. Dorian appeared in the living room. “If you touch me again, I’ll cut your balls off.”
The man meant it.
“What’s wrong?” Rick asked. He knew Benito. The man wouldn’t have done anything to offend Dorian. He was just as sweet and naïve as Miguel. The cousins wouldn’t harm a fly, not while in human form.
“That pervert just tried to run his hand over my back.”
Rick chuckled. “He’s seeking comfort.”
Dorian didn’t look happy with Rick’s explanation. “I’m not sure what that means, but he can seek it someplace else. I’m not into strange tail.”
“I’m not familiar with that term,” Miguel said as he moved closer to Rick. Rick rested his hand on Miguel’s shoulder.
“It means I don’t have sex with strangers.” Dorian narrowed his eyes as he looked at where Rick’s hand was resting on Miguel. Rick could smell the simmering scent of jealousy.
Interesting.
“They are changelings, Dorian. They need touch for reassurance and comfort. It’s what we do. It’s how we live.”
“So, it’s just one big orgy with you guys, huh?” Dorian spat the question. “The more I learn about changelings, the less I like. I’m still not over you trying to eat me.”
