Feral

By Lily Harlem

*An insta-love, M-preg, omegaverse gay love story.

 

Russell Strand suspected something was off with his scent when neighborhood dogs hunted him down to sniff and lick him when he was just six years old. Nevertheless, he went on to live a relatively normal childhood, though was always keen to avoid canines.

It isn't until he's set up on a blind date with the devilishly handsome Toby Blast, that he's hit not just with Cupid's arrow but a sense of belonging.

However, Toby proves to be domineering with a ravenous appetite for sex, and Russell soon realizes his lover is no ordinary man and can make him feel extraordinary things in the bedroom.

But then Russell discovers the truth, not just about his lover, but also himself.

As if being a shifter isn't a surprise enough…there's more.

Only fate will decide if the couple are meant to be, if Russell can carry on the pack's lineage, and if Toby will ever sate his appetite.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lily Harlem
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201608125

Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem is an award winning, multi-published author of erotic romance and erotica. She lives in the UK and since giving up a career in nursing has been widely published on both sides of the Atlantic. Her stories are made up of colourful characters travelling on everyone's favourite journey, falling in love, and with the bedroom door left well and truly open readers are warned to hang on for the ride, or rides as the case might be.

Book preview

FERAL

The Omega’s First Baby

An Omegaverse M-Preg Gay Romance

By Lily Harlem

Feral: text copyright © Lily Harlem 2020

All Rights Reserved

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Lily Harlem.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s written permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Cover art and editing by Studioenp

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Back Cover Information

Russell Strand suspected something was off with his scent when neighborhood dogs hunted him down to sniff and lick him when he was just six years old. Nevertheless, he went on to live a relatively normal childhood, though was always keen to avoid canines.

It isn’t until he’s set up on a blind date with the devilishly handsome Toby Blast, that he’s hit not just with Cupid’s arrow but a sense of belonging.

However, Toby proves to be domineering with a ravenous appetite for sex, and Russell soon realizes his lover is no ordinary man and can make him feel extraordinary things in the bedroom.

But then Russell discovers the truth, not just about his lover, but also himself.

As if being a shifter isn’t a surprise enough...there’s more.

Only fate will decide if the couple are meant to be, if Russell can carry on the pack’s lineage, and if Toby will ever sate his appetite.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

About the Author

Chapter One

RUSSELL STRAND STRAIGHTENED the cuffs on his new white shirt and tried to settle the nervous gurgling in his belly. At twenty years old, it was high time he got his head out of books and went on a date. He didn’t really want to, though, his books suited him. Turning the pages and falling into fantasy worlds where anything went was his idea of a perfect night—heroes fell in love with knights in shining armor, they were saved by paranormal hunks, and traveled on adventures with as many lovers as they could manage.

A tremble tapped up his spine when he thought of his last great read. Jolly Rogered had been a splendid tale of two men destined to be together despite one being a notorious pirate. They’d taken to the high seas, swashbuckling their way through life and love and fucking each other stupid at every chance they got.

Russell had re-read the screwing scenes. They fascinated him endlessly. He was a virgin, and literary sex was his main source of information. He was constantly amazed at the many different ways the heroes found to pleasure each other.

In Bucked Off, the shifter cowboy had enjoyed tying his new lover to a cattle gate, thrashing him, then taking his ass—hard. And because of an extra gland in his penis, he became locked inside his delicate lover until he’d come—in other words, once he’d started there was no going back.

Russell reached for his favorite cologne and recalled how he’d obsessed over the idea of two men being attached to each other that way—one submissive and obedient, the other dominant and passionate.

You’ll never find anyone, Russell, don’t be so ridiculous. Little old you from Stockley, that kind of romance and passion just doesn’t happen to folk around here.

He tried not to let nagging doubt have a voice in his head. Much the same way as he tried to silence self-loathing when it piped up. It wasn’t productive to dislike himself, he knew that. But knowing and doing it was a different matter.

Maybe Mr. Toby Blast will be the answer to everything, he said to his reflection. This might be the night my life changes and I find a man to love and who will love me in return.

He forced himself to smile, finding that just by saying something positive made it easier for his lips to go in that direction. It was like a small spark, positivity, and once ignited it would grow.

Or so he’d read.

He was liberal with the cologne. A habit.

Without it, he smelled funny. He knew he did. Not that he could smell himself, and no one else had ever mentioned it, but...

Years ago, when he was six, he’d been playing with a ball in the park. He’d had two friends with him, and the sun shined overhead. It had been a good day, no school and a few coins in his pocket should the ice-cream van appear.

Until two dogs wandered up to him. They’d sniffed his hands, his legs, his feet, and his ass. At first he’d thought it funny, their fascination with him and not his friends, as if he were special. But then they’d been joined by two more dogs, then two more. He’d tried to outrun them but couldn’t. His friends disappeared, and his panic mounted.

After falling to the ground, he’d found himself surrounded by more dogs than he could count, sniffing, licking, nibbling his clothing. They nudged his groin with their snouts, snuffled between his legs and buttocks.

He hadn’t been bitten, but he’d been terrified by their snorting, panting, their musty doggy smell, and their flashing, excited eyes.

He’d called for help and eventually caught the attention of a passing group of walkers who’d shaken sticks at the dogs and scared them off.

Did you wash your clothes in meat juice? one had asked Russell.

No, sir. Russell had wiped the tears from his eyes then raced home.

It was the day that had changed his life.

From then on, he’d been scared of dogs—not just domestic dogs but wolves, foxes, hyenas, anything that resembled a canine—and had retreated into his bedroom with a mountain of books.

He shuddered at the memory and flicked off the overhead light. Now he had on his cologne—his invisible scent-hiding shield—he could head out to meet his date. He only hoped he hadn’t overdone it with the spiced cologne.

Bye Mom, bye Dad, he called on his way out of the door.

See you later, son, his father shouted. Have a nice time.

Cream of the Crop was a small restaurant on the outskirts of town and run by two guys who claimed to have once worked in Paris. No one really believed them. The food was good, but there were rumors most of it was bought in from Ice Queen premade and heated in the microwave before serving.

But it was only a twenty-minute stroll for Russell, along the main road away from the park, and past the church and hospital. So when his friend, Ben, had messaged him to say that was to be the location of the blind date, Russell had been happy enough.

Blind date.

He could hardly believe he’d allowed this to be set up.

But Ben was a good sort, a little older than Russell. They’d been friends after meeting in the library a couple of years ago. Ben was married to Darren, and they were blissfully happy. They had the type of love and life Russell wanted, and Ben knew that, so Russell had trusted him when he’d said he’d met a guy who he thought would be perfect for him.

‘He’s tall, dark, and handsome, with a sulky-brooding vibe going on. I think you’ll like him.’

Ben’s words came back to Russell when the restaurant came into view.

Tall, dark, and handsome, what wasn’t to like already?

But other than that, he didn’t know much about Toby Blast, which he supposed was a good thing. It meant there’d be plenty to talk about as they ate.

Eat—as if.

His stomach was swirling with nerves.

Pausing, and pressing his hand to his lean belly, he looked through the window of the restaurant. It had a net curtain on a rod, halfway up, to give diners a modicum of privacy. Cream of the Crop had been stenciled onto the glass next to a laminated sign with opening times.

It was about half full, and Russell scanned the tables. He recognized a couple of faces, locals, and then his attention fell on a lone man sitting in the far corner away from everyone else.

Russell’s heart did a strange flub-flub thing, and he caught his breath.

That has to be him.

He was studying a menu, his dark hair flopping forward, a few strands curling near his eyebrows and temples. His expression was deadly serious, his lips a flat line and his jaw set tight.

Russell pulled in a breath and was aware of the hairs on the back of his neck tingling. Not out of fear—which sometimes happened—but out of excitement.

If that was Toby Blast, then Ben had been dead right with the handsome, brooding description.

Toby had it going on in truckloads. And damn, his shoulders, they were twice as wide as Russell’s and showcased in a black polo with sleeves that appeared to only just fit around his bulging biceps. On his right forearm was a tattoo. But Russell was too far away to see what it was. Not that he was complaining, he liked inked men. In the novel Painted Bodies, an artist had fallen in love with a client who was head to toe covered in ink, each image depicting something from his past or something he hoped for the future. It had been one seriously hot read that had kept Russell up all night, masturbating as he’d turned the pages.

His cock stirred now as he admired his date.

Stop it, he muttered. The last thing he needed was to walk into Cream of the Crop with a stiffy.

He opened the door and stepped inside. A weird kind of magnetic draw seemed to tug him toward the corner of the room and the handsome man. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before—somehow, breathing the same air had connected them.

And when their gazes met, it was as if electricity shot between them. Russell was surprised sparks didn’t fly about. The heat in the shared look was hotter than any fire. It sizzled through him, burning along his nerve endings, but not in a bad way, in a way that made him feel as if everything would be okay from this point on.

Hey, he said, reaching the table.

You’re Russell. The man set down his menu. He hadn’t said it as a question; it was as if he knew instinctively who Russell was.

Russell felt the same.

Hi, Toby, he said.

Toby smiled; it was brief, but it showed his neat white teeth. His canines were a little large, a fraction pointed, too. Sit.

Russell did as instructed,