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.
"You bastard!" Dorian shouted as he attacked the stock boy. "What in the fuck did you do to me?" He didn't wait for an answer. Dorian took Miguel down, pounding the shit out of him with his fists. No one stopped him. As a matter of fact, people began to gather around them, watching. As Dorian's body tired and his arms became heavy, he realized that Miguel hadn't fought back. He lay there a mess, his arms slung over his face, trying his best to protect himself.
Dorian didn't understand what was going on, but he wouldn't fight anyone who didn't fight back. "Tell me what you did," Dorian gritted out between clenched teeth, feeling his anger spiking even higher.
Miguel slowly lowered his arms, looking up at Dorian with those deep blue eyes. He wasn't falling for it this time. "Our alpha has reached the age of thirty-five and is still unmated. By our pack laws, we must find him a mate."
Dorian felt like he was in some sort of Tim Burton film. Nothing seemed real, everything seemed out of whack, and none of this made any sense. "So you tossed me up on the chopping block?"
Miguel gave a short nod. "It is an honor to be chosen."
"Says who?" he snarled.
"If chosen, you will want for nothing. Our alpha will take care of your every need."
"I'm not looking for a sugar daddy, Miguel. I never asked to be a part of this. For fuck's sake, I don't even know the guy." Talk about a blind date, only this was a blind marriage. Dorian once again felt like he was going to be sick. "Why would you do this to me? I'm not even changeling."
"That is true, but you don't have to be. I've chosen you, so nothing else matters."
Dorian narrowed his eyes. "You sure are speaking perfect fucking English, Miguel. Was anything about you real?"
Miguel looked away, but not before Dorian saw the embarrassment in the kid's deep-blue eyes. "We were told to blend in. Since our discovery, being changeling is even more dangerous now than ever before. I thought posing as an immigrant would be better accepted than a shifter."
Dorian slid off of Miguel, landing on his ass, stunned at everything that had happened today. He glanced around the backyard, feeling detached as he ran his hands over his knees, wishing, hoping to wake up and realize that this was all a bad dream. "But what if I don't want to be his mate?"
Miguel looked surprised, his dark-brown eyebrows rising high on his forehead. "Why wouldn't you want that honor, Dorian? You work so hard and defend our kind, even when you know it could get you into a load of trouble. I've heard what you've said to Jayson and Cherry, how you tell them to stop talking trash about nonhumans."
"How in the hell do you know what I talk to them about?" Dorian asked as he glowered at Miguel. "You are never around."
Miguel looked sheepishly at Dorian. "I have exceptional hearing."
Fuck. Dorian wasn't sure what to think, or say for that matter. "Can I get out of this?"
"No. Once a candidate is chosen, there is no way out," Miguel said. "I am truly sorry, Dorian. I thought you would feel honored to be in line as the alpha's mate. It was my way of paying you back for being so kind to me."
If that was paying Dorian back for kindness, he sure as shit would hate to see what the guy did if Dorian was a rank bastard toward him.
"I don't even know what kind of changeling he is, or his fucking first name." Did that really matter? Dorian had to find some way out of this. It was insane! There was no way in hell he was competing with anyone to be Mr. Marcelo's mate. What in the hell was he going to do?
Dorian wasn't a shifter, so he shouldn't have to uphold changeling law.
There was no way he could be penalized for walking away from this madness. He was human. They weren't. He wasn't going to be forced into some bizarre marriage, and mating Mr. Marcelo was exactly that—a forced marriage.
"You can't refuse," Miguel said as he pushed to his feet, wiping the grass from his ass. "No one has ever refused a candidacy for alpha mating."
"Then I guess I'm the first, because you are not making me be a part of this. Hell, I just found out you guys existed a few years ago, and now you are trying to marry me off to one of them?"
Dorian inwardly winced when he heard himself. He had been working around Jayson far too long.
"Them?" Miguel asked, a stricken look on his young tanned face. "Now you sound like those hate groups." The accusation was clear in Miguel's voice. "Have I misjudged you, Dorian?"
He wanted to say yes. He wanted this nightmare to end. Dorian just wanted to go home to his boring life as a human who had choices. "No."
Fuck, being a nice guy sucked. He couldn't even lie to the kid.
Miguel grinned. "Then you are one of the chosen."
Dorian's gut clenched.