Dorian sat outside the Wallington place in the car, even when Rick protested.
He was not about to go back inside.
Those people scared the shit out of him.
Dorian had to promise to honk the horn if anything spooked him.
He should be honking until morning because everyone in that damn house spooked him.
But Dorian sat in the seat, staring at the house, his hand away from the horn.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Rick’s cock.
No matter what he tried to think of to distract those disturbing thoughts, his mind wandered back to those full ten inches.
Damn, ten inches?
There was no denying that Rick was very well endowed.
Dorian had seen the proof with his own eyes and tasted it last night.
He moaned to himself and pressed the palm of his hand into his groin.
He was not going to repeat last night or go all the way with Rick.
Dorian didn’t care how curious he was to find out how Rick would feel —”Stop it.”
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.
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. Get faster updates on g.com.
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?”