Rise to Love [Rise of the Changelings 1] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove)

by Lynn Hagen

  Miguel leaned back and dug into his front pocket, pulling out a small piece of notebook paper. “For you.”

  Dorian took the paper, unfolded the crumpled mess, and saw an address and time scribbled on it. Damn, the kid had come prepared. “I’ll see you at four then.”

  “Four, then,” Miguel agreed as he finished his lunch.

  Dorian was not looking forward to this. He wanted to tell Miguel never mind, that he wasn’t coming, but the man looked too damn pleased sitting there as he ate his lunch.

  Just go ahead and tear his heart out. Wipe that happy little smile right off of his face, you prick.

  Dorian couldn’t do it. No matter how much he dreaded going to some dinner tomorrow at Miguel’s. He thought about all the teasing Miguel endured at work and knew the man was clinging to Dorian because he was nice to the kid. But why couldn’t it end at work? Why did Miguel want to hang out outside of work?

  Pushing from the table, Dorian wanted to get as far away from Miguel as possible at the moment. He really did want to turn the guy down, but knew he couldn’t.

  Being nice sometimes sucked.

  “Later.”

  “Later,” Miguel parroted, the olive-colored skin at the corner of his mouth jumping, as if he were fighting a smile.

  Dorian ignored it and walked back inside, wishing he could clock out and go home. Maybe he could pretend to be sick and apologize to Miguel for not showing tomorrow. Again, Dorian couldn’t do that. He had said he would be there.

  Mr. Marcelo was standing by the employee lunch room, leaning against a wall, talking on his cell phone when Dorian walked inside. As he passed the district manager, pale grey eyes followed his progress. It was an eerie feeling, and Dorian wished he could disappear on the spot. Did the guy know the rumors floating around work about him being changeling? Did he think Dorian was in on them?

  He hoped not. Dorian didn’t want to lose his job because Cherry was an ignorant loudmouth who didn’t censor anything she said. One of these days, that habit was going to catch up to her. The urge to tell Mr. Marcelo that he had nothing to do with the rumors almost made him stop in front of the man, but Dorian kept right on walking.

  Chicken.

  Yeah, he was.

  It wasn’t a hidden fact that Mr. Marcelo was fair, but didn’t take any shit from the people around him. The man exuded a dominating authority, and Dorian didn’t have the nerve to talk to the guy. People in charge intimidated him. Dorian wasn’t a coward, but there was something about Mr. Marcelo that made him keep his distance.

  Maybe it was the broad shoulders that filled out the dress shirt, or the long powerful legs. Of course, Dorian hadn’t seen the man naked, but the muscles rippling under Mr. Marcelo’s shirt quickened Dorian’s pulse. He took in the district manager’s attractive male physique. Dorian’s eyes froze on his long, lean frame, and then he got as far away as he could.

  As yummy-looking as the man was—and there was no denying the fact that Mr. Marcelo was a very good-looking man—he also had an air of danger about him that Dorian did not want to explore at length.

  Dorian finished out the rest of his day, trying his best to ignore Jayson. The man wouldn’t let the employment thing go. He harped on it for the remainder of Dorian’s shift. By the time Dorian clocked out he had a splitting headache.

  After walking to the bus stop, he caught the bus home. He went straight to his bedroom, bypassing the living room where his father sat, watching a football game. It no longer bothered him that he lived at home with his parents. Living on his own had been tough, and right now, Dorian couldn’t afford it.

  “Did you hear?” Ian asked as he dropped down onto the bed, never asking if he could come into Dorian’s bedroom. “They arrested the manager down at Dexcom. He was stealing the blood that had been donated.”

  Dexcom was one of the many blood banks in Shelton. It was one of the major blood banks if Dorian remembered correctly. He had gone there a few times when he needed the cash. He wasn’t fond of donating, so he used it as his very last resort.

  “No shit,” he said as he emptied his pockets onto his dresser. He cringed when he saw the paper Miguel had given him with his address and time scribbled on it. God, he really didn’t want to go tomorrow.

  “Yeah, right?” Ian stated excitedly. “I can’t believe he was stealing blood. Couldn’t he have just enthralled someone and drank from them?”

  No one really knew that much about vampires, aside from the ones at the fang parties. Not all vampires went to them. From what Dorian had heard—he rolled his eyes at the gossip he was now basing his assumptions on—most vampires steered clear of those parties.

  “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?” Dorian asked sarcastically as he kicked his shoes off and then unbuttoned his work shirt.

  “You are such a shit sometimes, Dorian.” Ian pushed from the bed, leaving Dorian in peace. And that was exactly what he was after. He knew how to get his baby brother out of his bedroom without kicking him out.

  The guy was too easy to ruffle. Although lately, Ian’s mood was becoming more and more reserved. The guy was hardly around, and when he was, Ian became snappy when asked a simple question. He even began locking his bedroom door these days.

  Dorian would chalk it up to teenage hormones, but Ian was twenty-one, only three years younger than him. Maybe the guy was latent and was just now becoming the impossible teen. Who knew.

  Dorian took a shower and then joined his dad in the living room, dreading going over to Miguel’s and knowing he wasn’t going to do a no-show.

  He just hoped it wasn’t awkward the entire time he was there. He had nothing in common with the stock boy. They may work at the same supermarket, but Dorian didn’t socialize with his coworkers outside of work.

  The only reason Miguel knew Dorian was because he had defended the man, not knowing Miguel was just one aisle over, listening.

  As sweet as the kid was, Dorian wished he had kept his mouth closed that day. Now he was committed to sit at the guy’s house and pray he didn’t die of boredom.

  Chapter Two

  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 pa
cked 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.

  Shit, maybe he was going to need to change his underwear after all because Mr. Marcelo scared the crap out of him.

  “Turn around, Dorian.”

  Fuck, had Cherry been right in her assumption? Dorian didn’t want to turn around. He wanted to run and never look back. This was the first time he had known for certain he was among changelings. They looked human, so he could have passed hundreds on the street and not known. But he knew now who was standing around him, and Dorian wanted nothing more than to go home.

  “Now.” The one word was spoken with such command that it was a compulsion to obey, a pulsating feeling in the back of his mind that slid down his body and gripped him with an invisible hand, turning him around. The feeling made him want to do whatever Mr. Marcelo demanded.

  He glanced up into pale grey eyes. They were paler than he remembered at work. The veneer of who the man was at work contrasted with the man standing before him. Mr. Marcelo seemed more imposing, more primal, his masculine form taking up so much space that Dorian found it hard to breathe.

  “What are you doing here, Dorian?” Mr. Marcelo asked. Even his voice was deeper, more savage and primitive.

  “M
–Miguel invited me.”

  “You were his choice?” The shock was apparent as the man stared down at Dorian, slight confusion making his black brows pull down a fraction of an inch. “You were his pick as my candidate?”

  “Candidate?” Dorian repeated the word, even more confused than the man standing before him. What the hell did that mean? He glanced around, seeing sets of eyes that almost appeared yellow. The changelings’ eyes had an eerie glow to them as they kept Dorian in their sights. He looked back at the district manager. “He invited me to dinner.”

  Mr. Marcelo nodded, taking a step back. “Then by all means, enjoy the feast.”

  “Wait!” Dorian called out when the man began to walk away. Was he really going to leave Dorian here, with these changelings? Dorian felt desperation take hold, clawing its way up his throat as he hurried after the man. “Where are you going?”

  “Miguel has chosen you, Dorian. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

  “Chosen me for what?” Dorian asked as his voice strained nervously. None of this made any damn sense to him. He was trapped in some sort of strange nightmare that he couldn’t wake from, and the one man he even remotely felt was his safest bet to get out of here alive was leaving him behind.

  Mr. Marcelo turned, his pale grey eyes glowing with small flecks of that same eerie yellow the others were exhibiting. Dorian took a step back, knowing that tonight he was going to die. There wasn’t much information on changelings, so he wasn’t sure what they had planned for him. He had never heard of becoming a candidate, and didn’t want to stick around to find out what it entailed.

  “To be my mate.”

  Dorian’s knees did buckle this time. He fell to the ground, feeling bile rise to the back of his throat. Mate? Oh, god! As he knelt there in the backyard, Dorian realized that none of the nonhumans were approaching him like they had before. They kept their distance this time.

  Through the thick crowd, Dorian finally spotted Miguel. Volatile rage erupted inside of him as he pushed to his feet and went after the man responsible for getting him into this mess in the first place.