Dorian waited for the doors to open and then got off of the bus and walked down the quiet suburban street. He stared at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand and then at the addresses as he walked along. Miguel's handwriting was so shitty that Dorian prayed he was heading to the correct address. It would be his luck to end up at a stranger's house.
It had been hard enough getting here. Dorian hadn't known Miguel lived so far out until he had Googled the address.
He spotted Miguel's house. It was a two-level brick house with a shitload of cars parked in the driveway and along the street. Just how many people were coming to dinner? Dorian had assumed it was going to be just a few people in attendance, but by the looks of things, he was in for a long night.
Striding up the cobbled walkway, Dorian stepped onto the porch, and then rang the doorbell. He tugged at his casual dress shirt and then smoothed a hand down the front. He wasn't sure why he wanted to look nice for dinner at Miguel's, but Dorian had made sure he looked presentable, wearing something other than his usual T-shirt and jeans.
An older version of Miguel answered the door. The resemblance was uncanny. It had to be Miguel's father. "Yes?"
Dorian wanted to say he had the wrong house and leave, but he thought about the happy look on the young man's face and knew he couldn't do that.
Damn conscience. "Hi, I'm Dorian, Miguel's friend. He invited me over for dinner."
The man stood there looking perplexed, and then a slow grin formed on his face, making the guy look ten years younger. His olive-colored skin contrasted against his white teeth as he smiled at Dorian. "That would be our cookout. Come on in."
Hell, a cookout was worse.
The older version of Miguel took a step back, still holding the smile in place. "Miguel is out back, Dorian. Make yourself at home."
"Thanks." Dorian walked through the house, groaning when he saw the packed backyard. This was not going to be pleasant.
He headed outside, noticing that the man who let him in looked related to Miguel, but spoke perfect English. Dorian grimaced. He was starting to sound like Jayson now. It wasn't for him to judge what went on in Miguel's home.
Stepping onto the back patio, Dorian immediately felt out of place. It seemed the entire family was here. Not that he knew Miguel's family, but damn, the backyard was filled to the brim. How in the hell was he going to find the guy? "This is so not cool, Miguel," Dorian mumbled to himself.
"You could have warned me."
"And who do we have here?"
Dorian looked over his shoulder to see some guy leaning just to the side of the doorway, his eyes raking over Dorian like he was a piece of prime steak. Dorian had never had anyone look at him with such lascivious intent before. It was unnerving. The guy swaggered closer, a bottle of beer in his hand and a look that said he wanted to eat Dorian alive.
"I'm Miguel's friend," Dorian quickly said as he took a nervous step back, almost falling down the three steps that led to the grass below. He caught the small railing, steadying himself. "Have you seen him?"
"No, but you can hang out with me." It was a blatant invitation that Dorian wasn't going to take him up on. The man moved gracefully, his steps as smooth as butter as he closed in on Dorian. He knew exactly what the man wanted, and Dorian wasn't interested. He was going to kick Miguel's ass for this—happy little smile or not.
"No, thanks." Dorian turned and pushed his way through the crowd of people, trying his best to get lost and hoping to find Miguel. Why in the hell did the man invite him over if there were going to be this many people attending? Dorian had had the impression that maybe they would have dinner and then he and Miguel would just hang out for a little while.
This, he hadn't expected.
The further Dorian pushed into the throng of people, the more panicked he felt. It was a ridiculous feeling, but he felt like prey among predators.
Eyes were locking onto him, the wall of bodies growing thicker, as if they were blocking him in. There was nowhere left to run. He had pushed to his limit, and no one else was letting him through.
"Excuse me," he said, almost crying the words out when a muscular man stood in his way. He tried to expel the franticness building up inside of
his body by breathing out slowly through his mouth, but the longer he stood there, the more people seemed to gather around him. It was as if he were on display, a morbid fascination that Miguel's family couldn't seem to get enough of.
Why in the hell was he having these thoughts?
"Where are you going?" the man asked, but didn't waver in his stance to keep Dorian trapped. There was an amused spark in the guy's jade-green eyes, as if he was enjoying toying with Dorian. That's it! Dorian was not hanging out with anyone from work anymore. Miguel had a family full of perverts!
"Miguel," he whispered, trying his best to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I'm looking for Miguel."
A twitch played at the corner of the man's mouth as he took a step forward. Dorian took a step back. "Miguel is indisposed. But I'm sure I can help you."
Dorian cringed back, hating himself for seeming a coward. What was with Miguel's relatives? Were they all horndogs? As nice-looking as the blond man was, Dorian wasn't interested. "Miguel invited me here. Can you just direct me to where he is?"
The laugh was bone chilling, making Dorian want to run and never look back. "He's done his job. Miguel is no longer your concern."
Just what in the hell did that mean? Dorian glanced around, his heart thudding loudly when every pair of eyes in the backyard locked onto him.
"What—" He shook his head. "I have to go."
"I don't think so," the man with the jade-green eyes said, his tone deceptively playful as he shook his sandy-blond head. "Since Miguel invited you, then you are here for the party."
"What party?" Miguel hadn't told him about any party. He had said dinner. Dorian knew the man's English wasn't that great, but Miguel had said dinner. He took a step back, frantically glancing around, trying to find a way out of this madness.
"There is nowhere for you to escape, human."
Dorian felt his knees begin to buckle. He knew that these people weren't vampires because it was a bright and sunny day. No vampire could stand the rays of sun. That had been a proven fact. They lurked in the darkness, only coming out once the sun had set.
So he must be in a yard full of changelings. The revelation did not make him feel any damn better. Knowing these people were changelings made his heart pound in his chest, but not knowing what breed of changelings made Dorian so nervous that he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin at any second.
Not only was the world shocked to find out changelings existed, but how many different breeds there truly were. Dorian had learned that there were wolves, lions, jaguars, panthers, and even rats. But he knew that wasn't the extent of it.
"I see the light coming on in his eyes." A woman laughed, her amusement at the situation contagious as others laughed as well. Dorian was too damn afraid to chuckle at the punch line.
But then again, he was the punch line.
Now he fully understood the man who had stood by the door, looking at Dorian as if he were a piece of prime steak. He had a feeling that he was not only prime steak, but the main course. Had he misjudged Miguel that badly? The guy had seemed so sweet.
"Come here, little human," the muscular man with the jade-green eyes said as he inched closer, as if playing with Dorian. "Leaving so soon?"
"Uh, yeah, I have to go change my soiled underwear," Dorian replied.
"So stand right there, don't move, and I'll be right back."
He wasn't coming back.
Dorian normally wasn't a coward, but there was an entire backyard of changelings staring at him, their eyes filled with hunger. Dorian swallowed hard when he backed into a wall. He could tell that someone was standing behind him, because no matter how solid and unyielding the wall was, it was made of flesh, not bricks.
The changelings stopped advancing toward Dorian and began to back away. It was an odd reaction to the behavior they had exhibited just seconds ago, so Dorian knew he was in deep trouble. Whoever was standing behind him must be very important to make an entire yard of changelings back off.
This was not turning out to be one of his better days.
"Dorian."
He knew that voice. Had heard it often enough to recognize the person behind him. "Mr. Marcelo?" His day was going from incredibly frightening to downright terrifying. It just couldn't be his district manager. Irony was
such a bitch. He had tried his best to avoid the man, and now he found himself chest to back with the guy.