Wild Ride: An M/M Shifter Mpreg Romance Bundle

by Preston Walker

  It boggled the mind. Mickey always was amazed at places where there was such an abundance of foods. Going to a grocery store was a trip of amazement and wonder for him, identical to what privileged others might feel upon visiting a museum or some sort of monument. Yet, right behind that wonder came an instant wave of sadness, anger and regret. How dare these people take things like this for granted? It was absolutely shameful.

  Focus, he admonished himself. He spied a half-empty sack of flour and went over to it. Picking it up, he grimaced slightly at the weight. Twenty pounds at least; however, in wolf form that would be no problem. He grabbed a handful of potatoes from each open sack and then picked up his prize. It shifted awkwardly in his arms but then it settled and lay securely against his chest.

  Satisfied, he unlocked the door and stepped right through. Immediately, a voice called out to him. “Excuse me! Sir!”

  Dammit!

  Anxiety soured his stomach, but he plastered a smile to his lips while yanking off his mask and turning. He could have collapsed from pure relief as he saw who was walking toward him. Not a manager. Not even an employee. It was a young woman with stress lines around her eyes, holding a toddler out in front of her at arm’s length. The kid’s diaper was sagging dangerously.

  “So sorry to bother you,” she burst out, “but can you point me to the bathrooms?”

  Mickey smiled a little wider, relief getting the better of him. “Sure. There’s none on this side. Go back around that way up toward the front and you should see them.”

  He had no idea if that was true or not, but it made sense.

  “Thank you, sweetie. What’s your name?”

  He hesitated and then shrugged inwardly. No reason not to tell her, right? “Mickey, ma’am.”

  “Mickey, you’re a lifesaver!” the woman gushed. And then she turned around and went on her way.

  Checking to make sure that no one else was coming, he hurried over to the exit and pushed his way out.

  His arms gave out only a few steps away, so he dropped the sack of flour and potatoes. A puff of white cloud shot up in his face, turning his trailing hair grey.

  “Pfft!” he spat, waving his hands.

  Two things happened at once. He caught a whiff of cigarette smoke and looked anxiously out toward the hipster shop, expecting to see someone standing out there on break, watching him. There was no one.

  And then he heard a sound from right behind him—a low, dangerous chuckle.

  Mickey turned around slowly, hands poised in front of him to either attack or raise them harmlessly into the air.

  A man stood there, clearly an alpha shifter. He stood at least 6’5” and seemed nearly as broad, with linebacker shoulders that went on for miles. His chest was a concave wonder, straining the front of a simple blue t-shirt so hard that Mickey could see the clear-cut lines of every muscle. His stomach was much the same, a hard six-pack clearly visible beneath the material. His skin was pale, although lightly tanned. His thighs were tree trunks, and his face was the chiseled front of a cliff. That jawline alone was enough to make people pregnant just by looking at it. His hair was cropped military-style, showing off a pair of blazing gray eyes the color of skyscraper steel.

  All in all, there were a lot less attractive people to be caught by. Mickey’s stomach burst into life with clouds of butterflies that couldn’t quite decide if they were anxious or delighted.

  “I thought I recognized your scent,” the big man said. His voice, although calm and patient, came out as a husky growl that started deep in his chest. It seemed to be his normal speaking voice, although the hoarse edge to it might have been put there by the cigarette tucked between two fingers. “I just didn’t really expect this. You’ve got guts.”

  I have no idea who you are.

  Mickey opened his mouth to say the words but then he stopped. Something clicked. Pursuit. Huge paws crashing against his body, an overwhelming aroma of musk. Hard muscles, hard hands snatching at his mask; hard hands now relaxed in peace, cradling that cigarette as though it was a baby.

  “No,” he groaned. He raked his fingers backwards through his hair, clawing at the black tufts that fell about his hands. “No, no! You can’t be serious. You? How? How can it be you?”

  There was no way around it. He was going to go to jail. This man right here was the same police officer who gave chase to him when he caused that distraction at the jewelry store the other day.

  “How?” he repeated again, shoulders slumping in despair.

  The big alpha wolf shrugged his massive shoulders. The motion was almost enough to cause an earthquake. “Coincidence. Fate. Whatever you want to call it. Today’s my day off. I was wandering around. Felt you from a long way off. Recognized you in an instant. You’re very... distinctive. Did you know that?”

  Mickey forgot his other emotions for a moment, knocked away as they were beneath a wave of astonishment. “I... I do my best to not be distinct.”

  “I get that,” the alpha grunted. “But you ever think you try too hard? Every wolf acts a certain way but here you are, getting rid of all that. You’re so unrecognizable that it couldn’t have been anyone else but you.”

  He had never thought about it like that before. All he could do was stand there with his mouth open, blinking and staring. Words didn’t seem like they were going to be nearly enough to explain what was going on in his mind.

  “And as for the humans,” the alpha continued, “you might manage to fool some of them into looking over you, but the thing you tend to realize as a cop is that people notice the big details. Wear a red scarf next time and then dump it. All anyone will ever notice is the scarf.”

  “Wait.” Mickey raised up one hand, using the other now to rub at his temples. “This is... weird. Why aren’t you arresting me?”

  The alpha opened his mouth but, just then, the back door to the restaurant banged open and a well-dressed man wearing a hairnet stormed out. “Yes,” he demanded, accent thick with rage. “Why aren’t you arresting this... this thief?”

  Mickey shrank back slightly, feeling his eyes stretch wide open with fear. No doubt this was a manager. Charges were going to be pressed against him. This was all going to be for nothing. Damn. Damn! Who was going to provide for the others without him?

  Then, much to his surprise, the alpha stepped between them. A fierce snarl stretched on his lips as he jammed his hand into his jeans’ pocket and brought out a badge. “My name is Houston Roosevelt,” he growled. “As you know, I am a police officer. I am dealing with this. You can go on your way.”

  The other man was quite clearly about to argue but seemed to think better of it for some reason, almost as if he didn’t want to be accosted by a very large and apparently aggressive cop. He held up his hands and gave a little sneer. “Fine. Take care of the damn little deadbeat. I don’t care.”

  Mickey watched the manager storm back inside with his nose in the air, and then he gave himself a solid kick in the rear for having been so stupid. Why had he given that lady his name? It was obvious what had happened. She went to thank the manager and to congratulate him on such helpful employees, but apparently there was no one else named Mickey in the restaurant. And if there was, that Mickey had apparently been so confused that the manager decided to investigate anyway.

  I won’t be doing that again.

  He might not have a chance to do anything at all, soon.

  Reluctantly, smarting at his own stupidity, Mickey turned to look at the alpha. “You said your name was Houston?” he said, timidly.

  “Right. And what might yours be?”

  He thought he detected a bit of softening in that husky growl. Maybe, just maybe, he could play this big lug and get off easier, so he softened his voice in kind. “Mickey.”

  “Mickey, I’m not going to arrest you.”

  Another wave of relief washed over the omega wolf, nearly sweeping him off his feet. He was beginning to feel like a sandcastle, the hard edges of him being worn away by repeated assaul
ts. Why did feeling okay have to feel so bad?

  “You... you aren’t?”

  “Not if you tell me what you were doing, stealing a bag of flour. And what you were doing at the jewelry store yesterday. Not much of a robbery if you don’t take anything, is it?” Houston seemed to realize he still had a lit cigarette. A little puddle of ashes lay at his feet. He brought the smoldering stick to his lips and took one final drag, face illuminated with burning orange light.

  Mickey felt something stir inside him. It came like a freak wind, there and gone before he really knew what was happening. And then it was over, the cigarette butt dropped on the ground and stomped out beneath the hell of a heavy boot.

  “Okay,” he said, finally. “I’ll show you. Can I keep the flour?”

  “No,” Houston said sternly, steely eyes flashing. “You’re going to put it right inside the door and then you’re going to either show or tell me what you’re doing. For a thief, you’re a good one. But why is such a good thief so terrible? I have to know.”

  Dragging the sack of flour and potatoes back across the cement, grumbling to himself the whole way, Mickey pushed it through the open door and then slammed it shut. “You’re curious because you’re a cop or something?”

  “Or something,” Houston agreed, enigmatically. Enigmatic, and annoying. Rolling his eyes, Mickey set out to scaling the chain fence. He waited on the other side, trying hard not to show his amusement at how terrible the big wolf was at it. The thin fence trembled beneath his weight, rattling like grass in the wind. He could hardly fit his fingers through the gaps.

  “How’d you climb that before?” Mickey said, tauntingly.

  Houston didn’t answer until he reached the top of the fence and had one leg on either side. “I jumped it,” he grunted. “Might not be as graceful as you but I can still jump.”

  “Uh-huh,” Mickey grunted. He didn’t bother asking why he hadn’t jumped it now. It didn’t need explaining. Alphas were just so competitive. They didn’t want to admit that they couldn’t do something.

  In the end, Houston’s method of getting down from the top was to flop to the side and twist as he landed so that he ended up on his hands and feet in a crouch. He wasn’t quite successful at a real proper landing though, as was evident by the fact that he grimaced and shook out his wrist.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Mickey led the cop back through the hipster store. No one even noticed them at all. Then they were standing out on the sidewalk by the street. Houston waved his arm, giving a short little gesture. “Go on, then.”

  Mickey nodded and headed back the way he had come, but when it came time to make his turn, he continued on straight. Houston made a small sound behind him, clearly suspicious, but he didn’t say anything aloud.

  Meanwhile, Mickey frantically searched through his mental map to find a way to escape. As far as he knew, there weren’t any secret places anywhere near here. He couldn’t just slip away unless the situation was just perfect.

  When the opportunity presented itself, he almost missed it. A group of people crashed into him and he stumbled sideways, carried away by their force. Very distantly, he heard a voice repeating his name, calling for him, but he ducked his head down and pulled up his hood and hurried on with the crowd like he was part of them.

  He kept walking, on and on, as minutes turned to hours. He didn’t even pay attention to where he was going. He stayed with the thickest groups of people, letting their heavy presence disguise him naturally. Only when the color of the sky began to deepen toward night did he finally relax and start thinking about getting home.

  “Today sucked,” he grumbled, finally able to zip up his hoodie as the chill of night became more prominent. He had nothing to show for all of his efforts. That’s just how it was sometimes though. He just normally didn’t fail so spectacularly. If only that stupid alpha hadn’t been able to find him for some reason...

  Mickey didn’t even want to think about the implications of that.

  Chapter Three

  There was nothing in the world more difficult than going home empty-handed and finding acceptance. Disappointment alone would have been painful, but the ones Mickey sought to provide for were the people of the world who were so used to being disappointed that they saw it as a fact of life. Like children facing an empty Christmas tree, they knew the world wasn’t a very magical place at all. If shapeshifting was magical, it was only an illusion. The lights on the tree weren’t very extraordinary at all, without something to shine on. All alone, they were just speckles.

  Mickey felt like a speckle. An insignificant little bulb trying to shine on nothing.

  However, three days later, his luck changed. That was just the way of things. Predators missed most of what they caught, but they always pulled through in the end because sheer desperation and hunger was a better motivation than anything else in the world. That was what humans tended to be missing, most of the time. They didn’t hunger.

  Mickey hungered, terribly so. And he knew a great deal of others who felt that same hunger, not just for food and sustenance, but substance. And on this day, he would be able to provide it for at least a few of them.

  He had been prowling around the Chinese marketplace when some kid blazed past a fruit stall while standing on the handlebars of his bike. Naturally, the kid fell sideways into the stand. It was actually quite hilarious, honestly. Like a good Samaritan, Mickey helped the stall owner gather up the loose fruit and managed to pocket quite a few of the small apples in his various baggy layers. And then, on top of that, to thank him, the stall owner gave him yet more of the apples. A guilty conscious almost had him putting back the ones he’d lifted, but he kept them to himself. The people at home needed these more than the man who had so many he couldn’t even tell when some were missing.

  Luckily, it was a bit chillier today. Mickey was wearing his hoodie, a sweater and baggy cargo pants, all of which came from a resale shop on the other side of the city. He hummed softly under his breath as he walked, feeling the hard round fruits bob around in his pockets. They bounced with the rhythm of his walk, and his humming adjusted to it now as well.

  Maybe it wasn’t a meal, but apples were filling snacks and the kids loved them just as much as candy. Plus, the fact that he was headed home didn’t mean he was done for the day. If an opportunity presented itself...

  He never got to finish the thought. A hand grabbed at him from behind, tugging on his wrist and pulling him backward. In the same instant, a thick scent of musk wafted around him. It was so cloying that for a moment he couldn’t identify who it belonged to, but of course there was only one person in the whole world who had a reason to grab him like this.

  Mickey turned around and looked up into the steely eyes of Houston, the damn cop. He was decked out in his full uniform today. The omega felt his stomach lurch with excitement, forced to admit that the man looked incredibly dashing in the get-up; however, the rest of him reacted with ingrained behavior and he tried to jerk away. That grip on his wrist didn’t even so much as lessen, however.

  “What do you want?” Mickey hissed, between clenched teeth. “How many times do I have to get away from you? You... you... stalker!”

  “Shh!” Houston hissed back, flicking his eyes around. Mickey felt a rush of satisfaction as he realized that others in the area were already taking notice of their clash. “Don’t say that! I was on patrol here.”

  “Well, stop following me!” Mickey said, louder. He tugged away from the alpha again to illustrate his point.

  In that instant, an angry swarm surrounded him. It was only humans, and they all looked furious. “Hey!” one of them shouted. “You pig! Let go of that kid!”

  “You screwed-up cops!” another one taunted, clutching at their purse as if they were about to use it to whack at Houston.

  The cop didn’t even flinch though. Mickey was forced to admire him again. A resolve like that was a thing of beauty, really. It must have taken an inc
redibly solid confidence in one’s self to face down an angry mob without even taking so much as a backward step.

  “Please,” Houston said, “this is police business. Unless any of you are police officers...”

  “I bet you aren’t even a real cop, you pervert!” A big man strode forward out of the depths of the crowd, shouldering his way to the front. “You’re sick, trying to abduct a kid dressed up like that.”

  Taking advantage of the commotion, Mickey took a small step backward. Houston let go of his wrist, hardly seeming to notice it. Then, he reached toward his belt with one hand. “Don’t force me to arrest you,” he growled.

  “What are you going to do?” the big guy said. “Shoot us? Go ahead. You think just because you’re a cop, you’ll get away with it?”

  Mickey took another step backward, and then another. Someone from the crowd whispered for him to run, so he turned on his heel and did exactly that.

  However, only a few streets away, he heard the hard thundering of paws and drew up short with confusion as an enormous silvery shape appeared in front of him. It was Houston. Although he couldn’t have explained why, Mickey discovered that he felt a bit conflicted. Such a huge guy deserved a better wolf coloration than simply grey.

  And then Houston transformed and stood towering over him with his arms crossed, a sour frown on his handsome face. “Okay. That’s it. I’m not playing nicely anymore, Mickey.”

  “I wasn’t playing at all,” Mickey replied, snidely. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Did you seriously think that I’m just going to show you all my secrets?”

  Houston looked confused. “But I thought... can’t you feel it?”

  “No,” Mickey lied. He certainly could feel it. A stirring in his soul, and a hot pressure in his groin. He didn’t want to feel it.