Twice Bitten - A M/M Mpreg Shifter Romance: Darlington Pack

By Dylan Reece

Jonathan will face death for his mate. Again.

 

After seven years of exile from the city, wolf shifter Jonathan is reunited with the fated mate he left behind—sweet, freckle-faced Peter. Jonathan is determined to start fresh with his omega in small-town Darlington and mark him. Claim him. Have him carry his pups. But Peter is a human and there's no chance of claiming, let alone starting a family until Jonathan tells the omega about shifters.

 

Jonathan is Peter's dream alpha—bold, protective, and wild. Peter is fiercely in love and desperate to have the handsome man's babies, but something isn't right. Jonathan has a secret.

 

When Jonathan risks the safety of his species and reveals his wolf, Peter is terrified. Shaken and disoriented, Peter runs back to the savage city.

There's a bounty on Jonathan's head and following Peter puts both of them in grave danger, but the courageous alpha will fight against fangs, claws, and even death to protect his fated mate. If they make it out alive, will Peter accept Jonathan's wolf and agree to be claimed? Or will their second chance be their last?

 

Twice Bitten is a prequel to the Darlington Pack series. It can be read as a standalone novella that introduces the characters of quirky small-town Darlington. Twice Bitten features second chance romance, a ballsy protective alpha, the formative story of a close-knit pack, and fated mates with a guaranteed happily ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dylan Reece
• Release date: Jul 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201720254

Book preview

1

Peter

Punk rock wailed three blocks away from the Growler Den. I picked up my pace, avoided dark patches where the streetlights were blown out, and gave the boarded-up stores a wide berth. I was a clear mark in my designer suit that I’d purchased for my first day at Garrison & Fletcher, one of the best finance firms in the country. I grew braver the closer I got to the club... until my gut clenched. Something was off.

I slowed, listened, and glanced behind me. A clang made me jump and I wanted to run, but a yank of energy spun me toward a dark alleyway.

I gasped. I’d expected a guy in rags, a homeless tent city, or a gigantic rat, but not… a wolf.

Lit by the apartments over the alley, its eyes flickered, and I swore they flashed bright blue.

My brain said I should have been terrified, but my body hummed. The wolf lowered its head, its gaze still pinned to mine, as if to say I was safe. I believed it. My pulse thumped, my fingers tingled like I wanted to touch its brown coat, and I moved toward it…

The beast’s hackles raised, and it spun around to another crash. The spell broke, adrenaline cracking through me like a whip.

I ran.

A wolf in the city? It had been an optical illusion. A big dog. But Millie was a big dog, and I wouldn’t have mistaken her for a wolf. Those wild eyes…

I ran toward the club, swerving through the crowd outside and scampering down the stairs until I smacked against the shoulder of an omega arguing with the bouncer.

The blond turned around and gasped. Petey! Are you okay?

"Oh my god. Shayne." I braced myself on my best friend’s shoulder, never happier to see him.

Shayne frowned with concern. "Did you run here? We’re not even that late."

"Back of the line." The bouncer pointed up the stairs.

I’m on the list, he’s my plus-one, I panted, and gave her my information.

The bouncer raised an eyebrow and checked the list. Shayne smoothed down my suit and then his own. We were reluctantly waved through, and beelined for the bar. I glanced behind us to check that the wolf hadn’t chased me into the Den, and shocked myself with a flash of disappointment when I didn’t see it.

What the hell was wrong with me? And what was going on with the west boroughs of the city? Fucking wolves in the streets.

The buzz of the bar soothed my nerves a little—it was safe being underground and surrounded by humans. Granted, some patrons looked kind of rabid, but I didn’t think anyone had fangs.

Bass rumbled up through the sticky floor, thumping in my chest and making my teeth chatter. The crowd pressed against the stage and moshed so hard that I worried their safety pins would snag together. I stayed by the bar with Shayne—our designer suits set us apart as the weirdos at punk night, and the hardcore fans would have ripped us to shreds in the pit.

Which one is he? Shayne lifted a finger off his gin and tonic—as close to a martini as he could order at the Den—and pointed to the band.

The bass player.

He snickered. Peter. There are three bass players on stage.

He’s the one in the… vampire attire.

Fren, the alpha I’d been seeing for three months, had insisted that if I was going to force him to meet my best friend, then I’d better do it at his band’s show on a Friday night.

Cute. Shayne sipped his drink.

I grinned. Yeah. He is.

Fren was handsome under the gory stage makeup and Nosferatu collar. Long black hair flew as he thumped out an incomprehensible beat, then hung over his face as he looked toward me. I raised my hand, but he turned away. Maybe he hadn’t seen me. I waved higher, but he slid onto his knees and humped his bass at an omega in the front row.

I gulped down my jealousy and scolded myself for being so petty. It was just showmanship.

Shayne hummed with concern.

The song ended with a drum solo, and the lead singer grabbed the mic. Thanks for coming out, we’re Fried Dead Ted!

Feedback rang through the club, the crowd screamed, and Fren set his bass on its stand. I waved to grab his attention, and he glanced our way, but his face was blank. He should have been coming over to meet Shayne. Instead, he jumped into the front row and strolled backstage with a hand on an omega’s ass…

Oh. Okay. I blinked.

I wished I could say I couldn’t believe it, but it was deja vu. I’d been dating punk rock dirtbags since college, except this one didn’t even have the decency to wait until he was on tour to cheat on me.

I sighed in defeat and slumped against the bar.

Shayne hissed through gritted teeth. Maybe Fren didn’t see you.

He saw me.

He knew we were coming, right?

Ever seen so many prayer-hands emojis? I flashed the long text message exchange.

Shayne grimaced. Oh, Petey. Those are high-fives.

I groaned and scrolled through the conversation. So he’s been high-fiving me about coming to his gig?

Seems more like his style.

Well, he can high-five that twinky omega from now on. I downed my screwdriver to douse the last flicker of hope that this time my luck had changed.

The wolf’s eyes flashed through my mind. I frowned, confused by the comfort its gaze gave me and the way I couldn’t get it out of my mind, even now.

Let’s get another drink. Fuck Fren. Shayne made eyes at the bartender.

It was a glance, subtle and simple. Shayne fluttered his lashes, flopped his blond curls to one side of his forehead, and his lips twitched at the corners.

The bartender leaned his bulky, tattooed arms on the bar. What can I get you, sir?

He’d been calling us sir since we got there, a subtle dig at our corporate wear amongst the leather and black mesh of the punk crowd.

He wasn’t Shayne’s usual button-up lawyer type, but my best friend had committed to expanding his taste in alphas.

I’m going to split. I slapped Shayne’s back.

He reeled. No way! We have to celebrate your new job!

My first big corporate gig as an investment banker was something worth toasting, but the cloud of rejection soured my mood.

Yay for me, I guess. I have to get home to Millie. She’ll be worried.

He scoffed. She’ll be asleep.

I grimaced at the stage.

Hey. Forget Fren. Shayne squeezed my shoulders. You can do better.

The wolf appeared in my mind again and a vibration rumbled in my belly. I cleared my throat and nodded. One day. Prince Charming and all that. But for real, I’m fine, I just want to go. I’ve got a pint of ice cream waiting for me.

Shayne raised his eyebrows. You prepared to go home alone?

Are you kidding? Of course. Always ready for punk boys to treat me like trash. I tried to play it off as a joke, but I hated the truth of it.

Shayne hummed. Maybe you should stop dating them, then.

Not wanting a counseling session, I hugged Shayne, paid my bill, and headed out. At the door, I glanced back to see him leaning over the bar and caressing the bartender’s thick biceps.

Dating—or at least, hooking up—was easy for Shayne. Alphas were hanging off him ever since we’d hit puberty. He was an enthusiastic wingman, but not everyone went for redheads like me, and I was a little plain compared to Shayne with his confident swagger and wild mane of curls.

But I was smart, successful, and handsome enough. Maybe there was a defect I wasn’t seeing in myself.

Or maybe it was down to luck.

I indulged in self-pity as I weaved through the crowd and cloud of cigarette smoke outside the Den, and into the rough streets on the west side of the city.

It was only a few blocks to the slicker edges of downtown, with fierce lighting and aggressive anti-homelessness spikes on every damn surface. I was ashamed at how much comfort it gave me. I didn’t want to run into wolves.

Downtown, I turned along Thirty-First Avenue toward home, but the metal and glass of the Garrison & Fletcher spire shone in the moonlight. Millie would be asleep and wouldn’t miss me if I ducked into work to soak up my new office. I’d been through four rounds of interviews to land the gig, and at twenty-three, I was their youngest hire. I deserved to relish in my success before the hard work started.

I picked up my pace and glanced into every alleyway I passed... just to make sure that wolf wasn’t chasing me.

2

Jonathan

My claws clicked on the concrete as I padded through Dorian Pack territory, the outskirts of the city where scrabbly trees in a twenty-square-foot park were the only hints of wilderness. It was risky scavenge in my wolf form, but I needed animal courage to search for food.

I trotted through my usual route—a circuit of alleyways that ran behind restaurants—and ignored my stomach grumbling. Every dumpster and trash can was already taken by wolves and rats. I split open a stray bag of garbage from the local bodega and nosed through the trash for jerky or deli meat, but only found stale donuts and candy bars. I chomped through pastries, happy to find cream in the middle. It wouldn’t sustain me, but it was better than nothing.

I gave a wide berth to the other shifters that fought over scraps and tore each other apart for chicken bones. Slim pickings tonight.

It was dangerous to scavenge in human-dense areas, but I had no choice. The alleyways were tighter and brighter closer to downtown. Bass echoed along the alleyway from the Growler Den, a shifter-owned club, and human chatter bounced off the concrete.

I glanced into the shadows behind me, ready to turn back to safer ground, but my chest twitched like someone was tugging me with a piece of string. It was a small feeling, but I cocked my head in curiosity, turned in the direction it pulled me, and padded into the dim light at the end of the alleyway. Way too close to the busy street. I pressed my claws against the concrete and tried not to budge, but the string pulled me closer. Two tentative steps…

A flash of gold caught in my periphery as a beautiful human omega stepped into view. The scents of juniper, fir, and fresh rain hit me, pulled me out of the city, and planted me into a memory—I was running through the woods with my dads when I was a pup, way before we’d been pushed into the west boroughs. Way before they’d gotten sick.

Disoriented, I froze. The omega hurried across the sidewalk and into my view, and I fought to stop the string from pulling me toward him. Damn, he was gorgeous. His red hair—almost orange—glowed under halogen street lights, and his deep blue suit highlighted his pale complexion.

He stopped. I tried to force myself into the shadows, but my legs wouldn’t move.

We locked eyes.

Adoration surged through me and his bright green eyes flashed with recognition. Shit, I knew him too. I’d seen him before, but the memory was vague like the background of a dream. I sniffed deeply and took his scent into my belly. It swirled through my muscles and made me strong. My heart thumped harder.

The omega blinked, and I readied myself to shift. I wanted to talk to him—

A crash sounded behind me and I spun to catch it. A scruffy old grey wolf snarled, protective of the trash he’d found at the far end of the alley.

I turned back, but the human was gone. His running footsteps and a scent of fear echoed behind him. I whined against the familiar feeling of losing something special. First, my home by the woods when the pack Alpha had moved us to the west boroughs. Second, my fathers, within five years of each other. And now, the human omega…

Silly to think a stranger was something as special and irreplaceable as family. But he’d made me strong for a moment. Invincible.

The old wolf coughed up half a Twinkie, unable to chew it with his toothless jaws. I wanted to close my eyes to the horror of what had become my pack. We were meant to be peak predators, not scavengers.I couldn’t stand any more of this poverty. If I was going to claim a mate as magnetic as the omega from the alleyway, I’d need to impress him. I needed to be healthy, happy and part of a thriving pack—the opposite of what I was now. I caught a wave of bravery when I thought of the redhead, and I knew that I could change things. I just needed to speak to the pack Alpha or one of his lackeys—whoever I could get access to.

I hurried through the back alleyways toward the headquarters, using my sudden burst of strength for something I’d been meaning to do for years.

Halfway to downtown, a yelp echoed through the alley. Wolf’s blood caught on the humid breeze. I lowered my tail and walked on—it wasn’t my business, and I hated to fight—but the high whimper of a pup stopped me.

A scrawny adolescent wolf with nicks on her snout backed up against a toppled trash can. Blood glistened in her white, matted flank fur. Two gray adult wolves—an omega and an alpha—snarled, gnashed, and nipped at her, trying to scare her away from the chunk of rotten meat she’d found. I recognized them from my building, but familiarity didn’t mean shit in the Dorian Pack.

Fucking vultures.

I growled a warning and approached with my hackles raised. The adult wolves shot me a disdainful glare and the pup, foolish and hurt, snapped at the alpha. Her milk teeth skimmed his neck, but he threw her off. She landed with a yelp and a sickening snap against the brick wall.

I barked, sped forward, and bared my fangs. The omega backed away with his tail low, but the alpha rushed and met me halfway. We leaped at the same time and fell onto our sides in a tangle of legs and jaws. I ripped into fur, dragged claws against ribs, and snarled as he did the same.

I burned with fury in a way I hadn’t for years, lit by the desire for the redhead omega. My body was starving and weak, but I pushed with all my might and threw off the wolf. He landed on his back, and I pounced to bite into his neck. But the omega snapped at the pup’s