Drilling Dale [Alpha Wreckers 3] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) Read online

  Alpha Wreckers 3

  Drilling Dale

  After losing his latest job, musician hopeful Dale is now living in an abandoned house. Too ashamed to ask for help, Dale’s barely getting by. He’s given a wake-up call when sexy jaguar shifter Malik Mercer arrives on his doorstep along with a demolition crew. The last thing Dale needs is distraction of the worst kind. He’s had a massive crush on Malik for ages, but Malik’s made it clear that he’s not the relationship kind of guy.

  Malik is surprised to find Dale living in the house he’s about to flip. He’s never forgotten the bold little human who drunkenly hit on him at a club. However, Malik knows a mate is not for him because of his tangled past. Barriers come down and passion erupts as Dale and he become close. Malik’s certain Dale is his soul mate, but will Dale accept the flawed and fractured parts of him?

  Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Vampires/Werewolves

  Length: 21,171 words

  DRILLING DALE

  Alpha Wreckers 3

  Fel Fern

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  DRILLING DALE

  Copyright © 2017 by Fel Fern

  ISBN: 978-1-64010-531-7

  First Publication: August 2017

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at

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  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, I hope you enjoy Dale and Malik’s story.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Felicia Fern works as a graphic designer during the day, and loves penning M/M paranormal erotic romance at night.

  A sadist who loves watching her heroes break their backs trying to earn their happy endings, Fel likes throwing in the occasional dash of the unknown to the usual romantic concoction.

  For all titles by Fel Fern, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/fel-fern

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Landmarks

  Cover

  DRILLING DALE

  Alpha Wreckers 3

  FEL FERN

  Copyright © 2017

  Prologue

  Twenty-three years ago

  Malik bent over his homework, frowning at the incomprehensible math equation. He gritted his teeth, not getting it at all. Not much of a surprise his focus was shot, because he could sense his inner jaguar, prowling at the surface of his skin.

  He looked out the cracks of his bedroom window. It wasn’t full dark yet, but once the moon came out, it would call to his animal the way it called to all shifters, the moment a boy would turn into a monster. Malik hunched into himself and tried to focus on his finishing his homework. His momma would be home anytime soon. The angry slam of the front door made him jump.

  Malik shut his textbook. Goose bumps appeared on both his arms. He had an itch to scratch, his animal barely straining at its leash. Clenching his jaw, he shoved his jaguar away. There was a jaguar pack in the city. One member had even approached his mother, offered to train him to control his inner animal. Like always, his momma had sent the man away, told him Malik didn’t need another animal teaching him tricks.

  Unable to take it any longer, he grabbed his jacket, put on his sneakers, and exited his room to find his momma fixing her makeup on the living room couch. Her lips twisted when she saw him. “Where do you think you’re going? It’s the full moon. You know the rules, and you also know I have a client coming by.”

  His stomach clenched, just thinking of the dog cage in the closet, the one she always locked him in whenever the full moon was around the corner. Caging himself in never helped, because his jaguar only got wilder, angrier each time, and besides, he was too big to fit in that contraption now.

  “I was thinking about going out for a run in the local park. I’d disturb no one and leave you and your client alone.” Malik hated it when she brought back clients, disliked hearing the sounds they made because the walls in the apartment were so thin, his hearing so refined. He began walking to the door.

  “Stop right there!”

  She rose to her full height, not much and he was growing as tall as she was, but nonetheless, Momma looked imposing when mad. She blocked the doorway. Bloodshot black eyes met his own strange green eyes. He had her coffee skin color, her black curls, but his eyes belonged to his shifter father his momma always avoided talking about.

  “I’m tired, and I need to look fresh for my customer. Get in the fucking closet, you piece of shit.”

  Momma slurred her speech a little, and he smelled alcohol on her breath. Not surprising, but if she was cursing him this early, then she must really be in a foul mood. This time, though, he needed to stand his ground. He didn’t budge.

  She hurled a stream of obscenities at him, walked up to him, and jerked the collar of his shirt. In another situation, if a bully at school came up to him, Malik would fight back. His jaguar was a dominant. He’d known that since Gary Hex, the jaguar pack representative, had approached them a month ago. This was his mother, though, so he didn’t fight back, didn’t want to hurt her.

  “To the closet. Now.” The doorbell rang, and she shoved him backward, into the corridor, and yanked the closet door open. He froze when she pulled out the little silver cross she always wore around her neck. Even though she knew silver hurt him and the wounds would never heal, she still wore that thing, knowing it was an effective threat.

  “Don’t make me burn you again.”

  Not an empty threat. Malik swallowed. There were five little cross-shaped scars on his back, thanks to that dratted piece of jewelry, but she loved him, he knew that. Sometimes, Momma lost her temper. That was all. A lot of the boys at school were raised by single parents and had their own share of bruises.

  Violence was a familiar element in his life.

  Tears messed up her mascara. “I’m so tired, boy. Get in. Don’t argue.”

  Malik opened the door and crawled in. He was getting too big, but he managed to curl his knees against his chest and stared at her as she tucked her necklace back and went about locking the cage with a huge lock, made of silver, too.

  Then without another word, she slammed the closet door, leaving him to the dark. The cold metal
of the bars pressed against his skin. Normal steel, but he knew if he grew older, even this little cage could no longer contain him.

  Malik had considered running away many times, but his momma always threatened him with stories about little shifters being eaten up by bigger predators. Besides, during her sober moments, she told him she loved him, even though in her darkest moments, every word that came out of her mouth felt like a blade thrust into his heart.

  “I hate your guts. You destroyed everything. You wrecked my fucking life.”

  Outside, he heard the radio being turned on, the door opening a second later. A man’s voice, laughing, teasing. Malik planted his hands over his ears, wishing this night could be over. For some reason, nights like these were the worse, each second dragging on longer than eternity.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It sounds dangerous,” his momma was saying.

  The joking stopped. His heart beat faster as she yelped.

  “I paid for you, bitch. You’re going to do as I say. Strip and put that fucking rope around that scrawny neck of yours.”

  A growl tickled between Malik’s lips. He nudged his shoulder at the bars, satisfied at the sound of metal breaking. Let me out, his jaguar whispered. Let me rip this stranger to bits.

  Except the last time he’d let that happened, his momma had looked at him with horror in her eyes, confirming he was indeed nothing better than a monster.

  The sound of her pants filled his ears. Fur covered his arms, chest. He snarled.

  A pause from outside. “You have a pet or something, bitch?”

  She answered him with a scream, easily cut off with the sound of a fist smacking against skin and bone. Malik snapped, jaguar painfully coming out of his skin. Bones and organs rearranged themselves. He couldn’t stop growling, not when his jaguar was the one in control now, not the boy.

  There was bright light as the closet door was yanked opened.

  “What the fuck? You keep a wild animal in your house?” the customer yelled. The man was in his forties, balding, his lower half naked. Malik’s gaze shifted to his momma, tied up on the carpet, rope around her neck, eyes bulging.

  He opened his mouth, showed the bastard his teeth. The man drew back, scared, then relaxed when the cage rattled but the lock didn’t break.

  “Bitch, you into selling wild animals or something?” he asked his momma, but she couldn’t speak.

  Rage doubled up inside of him. He lunged at the door, over and over. Metal creaked under the force. He battered himself, but grim satisfaction filled him when the lock fell and the door sprung open.

  “Fuck,” the man swore, but Malik leapt out of the cage and was on the bastard in seconds.

  Chapter One

  Present

  Dale Fisher set his guitar by the wall and plopped down on his sleeping bag with a sigh. Another audition come and gone. He leaned his head against the wall, stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. Staying in an abandoned house was dangerous, he knew that. His best friends had offered him a place to stay on numerous occasions in the past, but Wren and Henry were newly mated now and lived with their mates.

  Besides, if it was one thing Dale had, it was pride. Pride and determination to make it in the country music business anyway. Dale wondered how he could have let things escalate to this point. He’d been doing fine just a few days ago, still had his own place, although rent had been overdue. Then Dale had been fired from his nightly gig at a bar in town for missing his time slot to go to an audition in the city.

  In the end, he’d gambled big and lost big, too, both his apartment and his stable source of income, which hadn’t been much in the first place. Starting tomorrow, he’d start writing up applications, maybe pretend to drop by Wren’s house for a visit and ask Wren if he could borrow the computer.

  His best friend had a soft spot for him, but Wren could be perceptive, too. Henry was another option, but Henry now lived out in the woods, in a cabin with his overprotective werebear mate, Spencer.

  How his two best friends had managed to win over two of the infamous shifter Mercer brothers, he’d never know. No use thinking about the past—that was a philosophy he’d live by ever since his parents had thrown him out of their home when he declared he didn’t care about finishing college because he’d wanted to be a musician.

  “Enough moping around,” he whispered.

  Still, it was hard to look on the bright side of life, when one was homeless and living in an abandoned house which could fall on his head at any moment.

  There were a few other houses like this down the street, occupied by the homeless of Snow Valley, but this one was his. Mostly because rumor had it, this particular house was haunted. All horse shit of course. Dale had never had any problems and he’d been here for three days.

  Dale grabbed his guitar again, then took out his pad and pencil. Might as well be productive. He strummed the first few notes of his new song, frowned, and erased the score he’d written on the sheet. Music always calmed him, had been his one passion throughout life.

  The rumble of engines made him pause. Had he imagined the sound? There it was again. Rising to his feet, he walked to the window. Deeming the second floor unstable, he usually stayed in the cozy nook he’d made in the house’s former living room. He peeked out the still intact window frame.

  Dale stared. One jacked-up pickup was parked on the curb right in front of his house. Two other cars joined it. Four men came out, then a fifth from the truck. Recognition hit him like a sledgehammer.

  Everyone in a small town like Snow Valley knew the story. Widower Isiah Mercer had taken a chance on four dominant shifter boys and raised them as his own. All of those boys were men now, gorgeous, dangerous, sexy males. Dale’s secret crush had always been Malik, the second-oldest Mercer brother.

  The Mercer brothers also ran Alpha Wreckers Inc., a construction and renovation company. What was Malik doing outside his lawn? Well, not his technically, but he’d staked out his territory three days ago. While he didn’t think of this place as his new residence, he hoped to stay here until he found a stable job and could afford rent again.

  That aside, Dale touched his lips, recalling the wicked smile Malik had worn at the club Wren had dragged him to a month ago. He’d been drunk, crazy enough to hit on the man he’d had a crush since high school. God, but Malik knew how to kiss. The entire club, music, and people fell away until Dale had been aware of Malik’s lips crushing his, but he could never forget the words Malik had whispered in his ear later.

  “I’m not for you, little human.”

  Stung, embarrassed, he’d run out of the club, only to have Malik chase after him, offering him a ride home. He’d refused, of course. First, the man rejected him and then wanted to drive him home? What the fuck was that all about?

  After that crushing incident, he’d made sure to avoid crossing paths with Malik. God, Malik now was walking toward the house, speaking to a few people dressed in hard hats. Even Malik had dressed down. Malik always wore suits, had been in charge of the company’s PR, but Dale decided the jaguar shifter looked good in worn jeans and a plain white shirt, too.

  Malik wore casual and sleek well.

  “Why are you thinking of him?” he muttered to himself.

  Dale should be angry, but maybe he could be pissed later. He had a ball of a time, admiring the well-toned body underneath that shirt. Oh, he certainly didn’t mind a drink of that, except Dale reminded himself that Malik had rejected him.

  He blushed, recalling the exact words, and decided the way to avoid this situation from turning ugly was to pack his things and get the hell out of there before Malik found out he’d been illegally squatting here.

  Malik paused in mid-conversation, sniffing the air. “Someone’s been living here.”

  One of Malik’s guys frowned. “Shouldn’t be. This house’s barely habitable although a couple of homeless folks are known to squat around here. Should we call the authorities?”

  He gulped at that.

  “
Not yet. This scent seems familiar. Stay here,” Malik said, then looked right at him.

  Thankfully, he ducked his head right on time. Dale quickly lunged for his sleeping bag. He folded it, then began stuffing his belongings inside his duffle bag. After that, he strapped his guitar and made his stealthy escape via the kitchen and back door. There was a hole in one of the fences.

  Dale breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t hear the front door open. He began to make the beeline for the back door when he halted, seeing Malik leaning against it, arms crossed, devious smile on his lips.

  “Look what this curious cat found,” Malik said.

  He froze, still holding onto his stuff, then regained the use of his tongue. “What are you doing here?”

  “Shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions, little human?”

  God that voice, deep and sexy at once. He had masturbated to that voice, that face. Shit. He remembered shifters possessed a great sense of smell.

  “Hey, you and your friends outside are at fault here. I’m just—” he blurted, then was cut off.

  “Chilling out here with your guitar and the rest of your belongings?” Malik suggested.

  He glowered. Why did Malik have to be such a cocky, crazily attractive bastard? “That’s none of your business.”

  “Really? Because my demolition team and I are going to wreck this place soon, and you’re trespassing.”

  “This property is yours?” he asked, gulping.

  “Newly acquired by Alpha Wreckers. We planned to flip this place. I’m usually in charge of the demo. Nash will take over after we gut this place clean,” Malik explained. A more serious expression crossed the handsome werejaguar’s face. “Do Wren and Henry know you’re homeless?”