Wild Ride: An M/M Shifter Mpreg Romance Bundle

by Preston Walker

  Oscar reached out and untied the sash around Alfred's hips, letting the scarlet material fall to the floor. He slid his hands over Alfred's glistening, defined muscles, his back, his chest, his hips down to his ass. He swallowed hard and trembled as his fingertips trailed around Alfred's powerful hip to his erect cock. The velvety skin slid under Oscar's hand and Alfred groaned, attacking Oscar's mouth with his own. Lips, teeth, and tongue battled for dominance even as their bodies strained against the very laws of the universe, pressing together as though they would fall into one another.

  "I need you," Alfred growled. "I need to be inside of you."

  "Then take me," Oscar challenged.

  Alfred's arousal burst from him in a savage snarl, and he pinned Oscar's hands to the bed, pushing his thighs up with a thrust of his pelvis. Oscar struggled just enough to make him work for it, forcing Alfred to the edge of humanity as he fought for dominance. Oscar caught his eye and glanced at the end table, the most reasonable place in the room for what they needed. Alfred lunged for it, pulling out a bottle of slick, silky assistance, coating his member with it, then tossed it on the bed. He plunged into Oscar without a second of hesitation, feeling himself filled with molten hot desire. Oscar cried out as they locked together, suddenly aware that this was it; there was no turning back now. Alfred took his mouth with a fierce power, and Oscar was helpless under his roaming hands, his insistent tongue, his powerful thrusts. Alfred's sharp, wild scent filled his nostrils and he groaned, giving over to the lust coursing through his veins.

  Alfred pulled back to gaze upon his lover. Oscar's wild red hair splayed across the pillows, fluttering with every thrust. His green eyes darkened with pleasure, and his wiry body reddened with lusty heat. Alfred trailed his claws over Oscar's skin, drawing hair-thin white patterns over his body, raising goosebumps on his arms. Oscar moaned low in his throat, and Alfred increased his tempo. Oscar began quivering and panting as he drew ever closer to ecstasy, gripping Alfred's biceps for dear life and screaming his name as he cascaded over the edge in a crushing, consuming climax.

  It was more than Alfred could take. He slammed into Oscar with wild abandon, moving against the painful, exquisite ache of lust, locking himself into a rhythm. Oscar met his every move with bucking hips, still hard and hot, ready to come once more. Alfred snarled, sinking his teeth into Oscar's throat as he hit a fever pitch, fueling the wild beast inside with the pressure of Oscar's quickening pulse on his tongue, until finally exploding inside of him, filling him with his hot, sticky essence, forcing Oscar over the edge a second time.

  Alfred's head slowly cleared, and he noticed the blood glistening on the tips of his clawed gloves.

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked, worriedly.

  "I don't think so," Oscar said hazily. "But I can't feel much of anything right now except... ecstasy."

  Alfred grinned sloppily and kissed Oscar's face. Oscar laughed softly and kissed him back, over and over, from his cheek to his mouth.

  "You keep that up and we'll never get unlocked," Alfred chuckled.

  "That might be just fine with me," Oscar said, with a giddy smile.

  Aiden's cry from across the hall instantly sobered the mood.

  "He's hungry," Oscar realized, moving quickly only to be struck with pain.

  "Can't go yet," Alfred said, with a wince. "Helga's there, she'll tend to him."

  "But... ow! He needs me."

  "And I need you to stay still, or we'll be here forever."

  Oscar sighed and dropped his head back on the pillow. Alphas, he thought in frustration. Aiden's cries muffled then ceased as Helga brought him to her breast.

  "I should be in there," Oscar said. "I shouldn't have..."

  "No," Alfred snapped. "No, you don't get to regret this out of some twisted sense of duty. You had every right to come in here tonight. You had every right to take time for you; for us. If the worst were to happen tomorrow—and it won't—but if by some curse or lucky blow I'm struck down, you will have this to look back on, to remember me by. And if I win—which I will—and you find that you cannot bear to share my bed, I will have this to look back on. To remember you by."

  A tear slid down Oscar's cheek and Alfred kissed it away.

  "I swear—"

  "Don't," Alfred interrupted, his voice pleading. "Please don't swear. No promises, not yet. Not until you've seen what I'm capable of. Please."

  Oscar nodded and breathed a quivering sigh.

  "Alright, your highness."

  "Alfred, dammit."

  "Alfred," Oscar laughed weakly, through his tears. "My Alfred."

  With their bodies spent and their baby quiet, Oscar and Alfred drifted into equally restless dreams. Alfred awoke after just a few short hours, too focused on the upcoming battle to rest. He showered slowly, reveling in it as if it would be the last one he would ever experience. He wasn't entirely sure that it wouldn't be. He'd bluffed well, he thought. He was sure he'd convinced Oscar that there was nothing to worry about. But he was worried. He wasn't in the habit of fighting for his life; as a matter of fact, he'd only ever been in that position once, against a rabid shifter who had attempted to treat his condition with a horrific drug concoction that humans had come up with. Why the boy thought that recreational drugs could cure rabies, Alfred would never know. But he'd won that fight by the skin of his teeth, and the boy hadn't had any formal training at all.

  Yes, Alfred was worried. Terribly worried. There were few to no legal provisions for Oscar or his family if Alfred were to die today and, with Brennan next in line for the throne, Oscar's life was in as much danger as his own. Any protections Alfred might have now would automatically transfer to Brennan in the event of his death; which meant that there would be no one left to watch Oscar's back. No one, except...

  "Your highness?"

  "Good morning, Burges."

  "Would you like breakfast this morning, sire?"

  "A single egg, a pot of coffee, three slices of grapefruit, one slice of buttered toast."

  "Right away, sire."

  Energy, he needed. But just enough to fuel him, not enough to weigh him down. He finished dressing for battle and gazed unseeing into the mirror. This was the moment his people had been waiting for. This was the moment which would determine whether he was alpha by default or design. He was still lost in thought when Burges returned with the breakfast tray.

  "Burges," Alfred asked, quietly. "Are you loyal to the crown, or to me?"

  "Permission to speak freely, sire?"

  "Granted. Requested, even."

  "Very well. Last month, I would have answered that I am loyal to the crown."

  "And this month, Burges?"

  "This month, sire, and for as long as you continue on your current trajectory with Oscar by your side and Aiden on your hip, I am loyal to you."

  "Then promise me something."

  "Yes, sire?"

  "If I fall today, you take Oscar and Aiden away from here. You make them disappear. If Brennan ever, ever finds them vulnerable, their lives will be lost. Can you promise me that, Burges?"

  "With all my heart, sire."

  Burges straightened Alfred's cape and patted his shoulder; a fatherly gesture which he hadn't done in years. Emotion burst in Alfred's chest and he pulled Burges into an embrace, squeezing the old man as though he were his own father. Burges returned the gesture without judgement or hesitation, holding the man who he'd held as a boy; the boy he'd read books to and played pretend with, the boy he'd had such high hopes for... hopes which had been dashed until the day Oscar entered the picture. Burges would swear his loyalty to Oscar for that reason alone; the young man had given him back his hope.

  Chapter 19

  Tension pressed against the palace walls, radiating from each and every person within. Duke Elliot had arrived along with most of the kingdom and was pacing the ring, riling up the crowd. Alfred, having kissed his lover and snuggled his adopted son, put them out of his mind. He stood in the small room at one end of the ring
, looking out of the open door at his opponent. He was big and fast, but cocky. He was showboating for the crowd, casting wild dispersions on the kingdom, the subjects and on Alfred himself. A more well-loved alpha would have a riot on his hands. Alfred's subjects, however, were responding with a mixture of cheers, laughter and boos; a striking reflection of how far he'd fallen in their eyes.

  "One minute till dawn, sire," Burges told him.

  "Yes. Have Gideon announce me."

  "As you wish, sire."

  Burges paused for a moment, then clapped his hand on Alfred's shoulder. The small gesture filled Alfred's belly with resolve; he couldn't lose this. He wouldn't. There was too much riding on him winning it. He heard Gideon shout his name from the announcer's box, and jogged into the ring as his people cheered. He didn't want to think too much about why they were cheering. Their opinion of him was riding on his performance today, and that knowledge sent adrenaline racing through his veins. He approached the center of the ring, where Elliot was waiting with a predatory grin.

  "Alfred."

  "Elliot."

  "Elliot? And here I thought we were on a first-name basis. You are, after all, wearing my castoffs."

  Alfred snarled at the slight against Oscar and unhooked his cape, letting it flutter to the ground.

  "Perhaps you should have thought twice before driving him away."

  Elliot dropped his own cape and sneered.

  "You should have thought once before taking him to bed," he shot back.

  They circled, their metallic gloves reflecting the blood red light of dawn.

  "Come on, little prince," Elliot said. "Show me what you're made of."

  Alfred shifted as he lunged, snapping his teeth a hairsbreadth from Elliot's nose. Elliot laughed and shifted as he danced away. His beast form was even more massive than his human form, and he towered over Alfred. His broad, thick muscles rippled under his thick black fur, and his yellow eyes were ringed in red fury. He slashed at Alfred, impossibly fast for his size, and Alfred dodged. He would have to go low.

  He ducked and darted, snapping at Elliot's Achilles tendon. His teeth closed on air as Elliot spun out of the way.

  "How disappointing," Elliot snarled. "Here I was hoping for a fight."

  He howled, a wild, terrifying sound, and charged Alfred at top speed. Alfred timed it perfectly, jumping into the air at the last second and spinning to land on Elliot's broad back. He sank his teeth into Elliot's neck, but Elliot shook him off, sending him flying across the ring. Alfred landed on his feet, ready to meet the next charge. Elliot howled again and started toward him. He faltered, stumbling. He righted himself and took another step before clutching his chest and doubling over. Alfred kept his distance. It's a trick, he thought. He's drawing me in. But Elliot wasn't recovering. He coughed and gagged, clawing at his chest with his razor-sharp gloves, ripping his own skin. His throat swelled, his eyes turned glassy and bloodshot. He struggled against some unseen foe for seconds which seemed like hours, before collapsing onto the dust, vomiting blood and thick white foam. His body shook and convulsed, writhing unnaturally, breaking itself with sickening pops and cracks until, finally, he lay still.

  Shock deafened Alfred. He crept over to his fallen foe as blood thundered in his ears. He reached a hand out, gingerly rolling Elliot over to see his face. He immediately wished he hadn't. Bulging yellow eyes stared unseeing into eternity while his swollen blue tongue stuck out like some monstrous sausage. Alfred bowed to him, as was customary, and turned away as his stomach heaved. The sounds of the crowd sliced through to his consciousness. Booing. Screaming. The crowd was livid, on the brink of a riot. They'd come for entertainment.

  "Cheat!" someone shouted.

  It became a chant. Cheat, cheat, cheat. Bewildered, Alfred gazed around the ring at the furious crowd, and something caught his eye. Brennan stood silently, grinning ear-to-ear. Alfred marched toward him, ready to pull him into the ring; ready to beat answers out of him. Brennan laughed as he met his eye, pointing at the stands behind Alfred. Young shifters were pouring over the walls of the stands, tearing their clothes off and shifting. Each furious adolescent was intent on beating their point into their disappointing alpha, and more than a few were dead set on earning the crown for themselves. Alfred blinked. There were a dozen of them or more, all unskilled, all charging him at once. He could prove himself a coward to the people and run, or he could mow each of them down in turn. They were closing in on him. He glanced behind him, up to the bench where Oscar stood, dressed in a gown. Oscar gazed down at him with a pleading look, begging him not to... what? Not to run? Not to kill the adolescents? Yes, he realized. Oscar wouldn't do either of those things. In an instant, Alfred realized Oscar's power. He'd stirred up two entire kingdoms, simply by existing. He didn't fight, he didn't run; he simply stood, vulnerable and strong, diffusing and inciting reactions with passive strength. That's what these kids needed to see now. That's what his kingdom needed to see.

  Alfred closed his eyes. He could almost feel their breath on him. Against every instinct, he shifted. He dropped his gloves. He stood, virtually naked and defenseless, in the center of the ring as the teenaged wolves surrounded him. He heard their teeth clash, felt the air move as they swiped at him. None of them landed a blow.

  "Shift!" one of them screamed in his ear. "Shift, you cheater!"

  Alfred didn't say anything. He opened his eyes and looked into the faces of his furious subjects. They wouldn't strike while he was in this form; it was against the code. The underlying, instinctual shifter code. They paced restlessly around him, snarling and snapping, but not one of them was willing to cross that line.

  "You have my word," he said, softly. "I did not poison Elliot. I ached for a fair fight just as you do. I swear to you, I will find answers. No warrior should fall from illness in the ring."

  "Damn right they shouldn't!" another shouted. "You should have ripped him apart! It would have been the honorable thing to do!"

  "Is that what honor means to you?" Alfred asked.

  "Yes!"

  The other boys agreed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The Developer's characterization of them suddenly popped into his head. Savages. He had laughed it off at the time, but this... this glorification of blood sports... didn't that prove his point.

  "Honor," he said, "is what you showed just now. There is honor in mercy. There is honor in responsibility. Go now and take your mothers home. They are upset. They will need you."

  The boys dispersed reluctantly. As soon as they had cleared the ring, three stewards appeared to collect Elliot's body. He was not draped in Alfred's colors; that was reserved for a so-called honorable death. Instead, he was draped with white linen and carried out on a stretcher. His body would be disposed of according to law, Alfred was certain. This was one area of their society which had always been straightforward, legally. It was the one area that shifters excelled in above all others. It was backward and upside down, just like everything else was. The weight of it all sank into Alfred's bones, exhausting him. He fell to his knees in the center of the ring as the seats emptied and the people went back to their daily lives. Just another sport, he thought. Just more entertainment. Just politics. He shook his head at himself. It was wrong. It was all wrong.

  Oscar made his way down the stairs, slipping through the crowd to find the entrance to the small room where Alfred would return. He wanted answers, but more, he wanted to hold Alfred in his arms. His face glowed with pride for his courageous prince as he pushed his way through the crowd, anxious to see his lover. He overheard snippets of conversation as he moved; the people were torn between accusations of cheating and awe at his unprecedented purposeful vulnerability. Most were shocked and pleasantly surprised at how he'd handled it, especially the mothers of the boys who had attacked. Oscar's chest swelled with emotion, and he virtually floated through the door into the little preparation area. He shut out the sounds of the crowd as he closed the door, and happily moved through the space
toward the ring. His mood shattered when he saw Alfred.

  Alfred was still on his knees in the center of the ring, staring despondently at his hands. The early morning light reflected off the tears rolling down his face, and his slumped shoulders heaved with heavy sobs. Oscar sobered quickly and walked slowly into the ring. The dusty ground kicked up the scents of ancient blood, sweat and fear with every step. The atmosphere was heavy with the pain of generations, and Oscar felt his own eyes fill as he moved deeper into the ring. Lingering observers watched their future queen cross history, entering the one place no omega had ever set foot in before. The crowd slowed and stopped, shocked at the disregard for traditions, curious to see how it would play out.

  "You shouldn't be here," Alfred said, blankly.

  "Where else would I be?" Oscar asked, gently.

  He took Alfred's jaw in his hand and tilted his head up.

  "Why are you crying, love?"

  Alfred shook his head helplessly and closed his eyes.

  "Look at me," Oscar ordered.

  Alfred opened his eyes.

  "You faced a great foe today."

  "Great foe," Alfred scoffed, strangling on the words. "Elliot was little challenge, even before the poison set in."

  "I wasn't talking about Elliot," Oscar said. "I was talking about yourself."

  Alfred grit his teeth and looked away. Oscar released his face.

  "You showed strength today. The kind of strength this kingdom needs. There are a dozen mothers who will be loyal to you forever after this day."

  "Yes," Alfred sighed, heavily. "And a kingdom full of people who are ready to throw my head on a pike for cowardice."

  "Perhaps," Oscar said. "But you will find out what happened to Elliot. I know you will. And when you do, you will try that person for unsanctioned murder."