The Fae Prince's Fated Mate: M/M Gay Paranormal Romance

  The Fae Prince’s Fated Mate

  Gay Mpreg Fantasy Romance

  J.B. Black

  The Fae Prince’s Fated Mate by JB Black

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  THE FAE PRINCE’S FATED MATE

  Copyright © 2020 J.B. Black

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  A queen's favor sets a fae prince and a warlock con artist on the road to love.

  Ash learned his magic on the streets. His mother died young, and the magical guild who exiled them both for her affair with his married father offered no aid. He's more grifter than warlock, but he'll do what it takes to survive.

  When the queen of Faerie demands a favor, he agrees to house her son.

  But why would a fae prince care about how mortals love?

  Voski hates fae court. Hiding his emotions and disguising lies in half truths exhausts him, but as the queen's only son, he refuses to abandon his people. When his fated mate proves not to be in Faerie, he has no choice but to go to the mortal world.

  But magic is hidden in the mortal realm, and the fae prince has no idea how times have changed. When his mother introduces him to a clever warlock outside of the guild, Voski expects an ally and teacher.

  So why does Ash fit so perfectly in Voski's arms?

  Their world-wide tour of romance becomes a love story all its own!

  The Fae Prince's Fated Mate is a gay fantasy romance with high heat, a HEA, and mpreg.

  Chapter One

  The more advanced the world became, the easier it was to fool people. They looked for wires. Questioned and analyzed and bet themselves over and over that anything strange set before them had to have a technological reason. Sleight of hand got credit when a card jumped from the deck to someone’s pocket, and if an expensive watch or all the money in a man’s wallet ended up missing, it was someone with sticky fingers. The determination to not see what was right in front of them made mortals easy pickings for a warlock in the modern age.

  “Place your bets,” Ash called out, shuffling the bowls placed on the table.

  It was an easy street game. They just had to find a marble. A single dollar or five, he would match whatever the player put down. Low money, he allowed the other person to win every fifth time. Anything higher than a twenty practically ensured the person would win - but when they walked away, right after they slipped their winnings into their wallet and checked their fancy watches or saw that gaudy ring on their finger, all the money in their wallet and ever piece of jewelry on them would find its way into Ash’s pockets. Anyone who could toss twenty bucks on a street bet had the lucky life where one bad night wouldn’t leave them destitute. Throwing around their wealth, they asked to be robbed. Waiting until right after they left meant almost nobody thought twice about the guy shuffling the bowls. He’d already moved on after all.

  “It’s rigged,” one of the watchers exclaimed, pulling out their cell to show a video from online about how the trick was done. “See! It’s a total trap!”

  Ash sighed, lifting all three bowls. “If you know how it is done, you can check to see I’m not cheating.” Removing his jacket, he tied it about his waist and showed off his tattooed wrists. “No magnets, no strings - check away.”

  What wasn’t tech or hidden chambers became clever fingers. If sleight of hand failed, luck had to be responsible. Luck made people cocky. More money on the table, confirmation the bowls were clean, and round and round the world kept turning.

  When Ash’s pockets weighed heavy with his haul, he let one last person win without taking their money and lamented, “I’m all out now. Guess I’ll have to try my luck in the casinos, eh boys?”

  Laughter followed. Some warned him to stay out. His luck seemed horrible, but as he shoved everything into his backpack, nobody gave him a second glance. In a city filled with distractions, the locals didn’t care about grifters, and the tourists easily succumbed to the overwhelming amount of other things to see. Bright lights and sharp music. Fountains in a desert spewed in a design. Everything in Las Vegas either danced or flared.

  Shrugging back on his leather jacket despite the heat, Ash wrapped a cool wind about him with a flick of his wrist. Others could suffer for style, but dark wash jeans and leather held no power over a warlock. Slinging the back over his shoulder, Ash strolled down the boulevard, heading away from the tourist center and mass casinos toward the ramshack apartment building he called home. Living in luxury would draw attention. One day, he’d cash in and move somewhere nicer, but until someone caught on or he made his first million, Ash intended to stay right where he was.

  “Hey,” a voice called as he neared his street. “Hey, you!”

  Ash kept walking. If the person intended to catch his attention, whatever they had to say wouldn’t be good news. Running a hand casually through his dark hair, the warlock hummed softly, pretending he didn’t hear the thunder of feet chasing him down. New York City sounded good. People got lost in a city that big all the time, and between the wealth of some and the poverty of others, nobody would glance twice at a twenty-something sitting quietly on the other side of the train. Maybe he should just give up his life of crime. With magic, he could glitch a computer system, transfering funds or causing an ATM to spew up its contents for him while he glitched out the camera. But all that just sounded boring. Retirement - even to luxuriate in his stolen wealth - seemed so exhausting. When warlocks slowed down, they ended up dead.

  “Hey, you! Grifter!”

  Well, now Ash couldn’t acknowledge them. If he responded, they would jump on it. Best to keep walking.

  Did other warlocks have these issues? His mother used to talk about witches and warlocks having some sort of secret society, but she’d slept with some married warlock big-wig, and the ban on her fell also upon her son. Or maybe no one simply realized what had happened, so nobody came about to save the young warlock from ending up in the system at eight when his mother died. Either way, Ash grew up knowing there were other warlocks out there. Grabbing scraps of knowledge. Picking through the web for actual spells, but whenever he traced them back, there never seemed to be a source.

  As the men came up behind him, Ash side-stepped, dodging their hands. “Huh? Do I know you?

  Of course, he knew them. A squad of buff and obviously day-drunk bodybuilders stood before him. Most marks looked the same. Suits without ties as if that made them casual. Maybe an expensive sweater - couple thousand at least - that a hobo could’ve wrecked for free. Ash wasn’t an idiot. Barely scratching six foot and skinny enough to be tossed by a stiff breeze, he wouldn’t have a single target if he didn’t aim above his weight class, but he avoided men who looked like they could kill him by shaking his hand the wrong way.

  “We’re Jeff’s friends,” one of the gigantic men announced, pounding his chest like a gorilla about to go ape shit on Ash.

  The name tumbled through the warlock’s mind. Eyes narrowing, he sighed. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to jog my memory here. Are you sure I’m your guy?”

  The guys puffed up their chests. “Last week, you hooked up with a guy in the bathroom of the Nelson.”

  “Yeah - that doesn’t sound like me.” Ash shifted
back on his heels. “I don’t give it up in bathrooms.”

  The bodybuilders glanced at each other; doubted started to spark in some of their eyes, but the guy in front - with stubble and a mess of curly brown hair - kept glaring down at Ash. He would be the troublemaker.

  Unfortunately for Ash, he was the sort to give it up in a club’s bathroom half-drunk on tequila and fresh off a big score. He had no idea the man’s name. Coiffed blond hair and dusky blue eyes came to mind, but the guy’s dick left a better impression. He’d jackhammered like he hadn’t had the chance to pound an ass in a while, and when he came - way too soon, the guy had apologized, sucking Ash’s cock. His blowjob was decent, but the ache his wild and sloppy thrusting left stuck around in the warlock’s memory longer. Guy hadn’t asked for his number. No exchange of anything to hint he wanted to see Ash again, and that had worked. Which meant he probably wasn’t Jeff, and worse, Ash probably got dicked by Jeff’s cheating boyfriend.

  Pulling out his phone, the curly-haired behemoth brought up a blurry photo, shoving it in Ash’s face. Sure enough, there he was coming out of the bathroom at Nelson’s.

  “That’s me, but I didn’t fuck anybody,” Ash insisted. “Do you know what kind of shit you’d catch from fucking in a place like that? Ugh - not enough penicillin in the world!”

  A shaved head man with dark skin murmured, “Maybe Jeff got a pic of the wrong guy.”

  “Yeah, Adam could be covering for his real side piece,” another of the men said, and Ash pointed, nodding along.

  “Whoever this Adam is sounds like a real asshole, and I’d love to help you guys help poor Jeff heal after such a loathsome betrayal. I’m sure you’ve already shown Adam the error or his ways, and good riddance,” Ash ranted, placing his hand over his heart as he mimicked their outrage, but their curly-haired leader seemed determined.

  His brows furrowed. “Why would we take it out on Adam? He said you forced him.”

  “Now, I’m just confused,” the warlock exclaimed. Running a hand through his hair, he gestured to the dark-skinned man with the shaved head. “I thought you said this guy Adam had a side piece? Sounds like a repeat offender to me.”

  The shaved man nodded. “Adam wasn’t roughed up, and there were pics of him leaving Nelson’s. No limp.”

  Pointing again, Ash quickly jumped on the opening, “Can you even be sure he had sex then? Maybe he just took a long shit.”

  “He said you pinned him and fucked him,” curly-haired insisted, towering over Ash with all the stubborn anger of a man cheated.

  Frowning, Ash tilted his head. “You’re taking this awfully personal, and you seem to be determined to pin this cheating on me. Is this machismo an attempt to hide your frustration that Jeff sticks with a cheating asshole like that when he could be with someone as kind and supportive as you?”

  Every single buff man tensed. Their eyes darted around, but no one seemed shocked at the call out. Curly-hair inhaled, puffing up like a bull ready to charge, and the warlock called upon his magic, readying for whatever the more muscular man threw his way.

  “I just love him so much,” the guy cried, setting his hands upon his hips.

  All the rest deflated, breathing out sighs of relief as they patted their friend’s back. Ash hummed in solidarity. He shook his head, and clucking his tongue, he patted the man’s muscular forearm.

  “You should tell him! This really seems to be weighing on you,” Ash said, keeping his tone gentle.

  Curly-hair shook his head. “Jeff likes guys smaller than him. Even when I’m not training, I’m two inches taller and at least fifty pounds on him. He’d never want me.”

  Ah - Jeff wanted to top without question. No wonder Adam seemed desperate to get his cock into somebody. That was a doomed relationship. If Jeff wasn’t up for switching around, Adam didn’t seem the type to be content bottoming for the rest of his days. If he cheated once, he’d do it again.

  “Everybody’s got their preferences.” Ash sighed, glancing toward his apartment and then back at the upset man and his friends. “What say we hit a club tonight? I can show you around, introduce you to some nice tops who’d love to pin a buff hot piece of ass like yourself.”

  Flushing bright red, the guy looked horrified as his friends seemed a little overwhelmed, but before the curly-haired man could do more than stutter half-formed protests, another of his friends with a backwards baseball cap said, “Hell yeah, man! We’re gonna hook you up! If Jeff can’t see how awesome you are, he doesn’t deserve you. We all told him how bad Adam was. If he wants to stick with that cheating loser, he’s only fucking over himself.”

  “Casey’s right. Your ass is sculpted as fuck. Let’s get you laid!” the shaved man crowed.

  Success. As the men chanted, Ash jumped in, and when the curly-haired man finally agreed, he pumped his fists in the air with the rest.

  “You guys are the best,” curly-hair bellowed, and smacking Ash on the back, “Sorry, we came after you. You’re obviously a good guy who wouldn’t fuck somebody else’s boyfriend.”

  “If it helps you find yourself, I’m glad it happened,” Ash replied.

  As the rest of the guys walked off, Casey hung back, adjusting his baseball cap. Leaning in, he said, “Thanks for that. Not everybody would be that calm about standing up to guys like us.”

  “No problem.”

  “Seriously, you’ve got balls. Lying straight to our faces,” Casey shook his head, laughing. “You fucked Adam.”

  “Hey now, let’s not harsh this happy buzz with that again,” the warlock retorted.

  The guy shrugged. “He fucked you, same difference.”

  “And you want to fuck your love-lorn friend, but who are we to rock this boat?” With a sly grin, Ash watched the other man’s face, and he didn’t disappoint.

  Casey flushed, but he smirked too. “He’s gonna look fucking hot hanging off my cock.”

  With a snort, Ash laughed, shaking his head even as he couldn’t deny the other man had gained a couple levels of hot with his cock declaration. “A man who knows what he wants. Good luck, and treat him nice. He’s definitely got friends who could kick your ass.”

  Casey raised his chin, not giving a clear response, but when the curly-haired man called out for him to get his ass in gear, the guy had a dreamy sort of smile. “Avoid the southside and Nelson for a while. Jeff won’t hunt you down on his own, but if he sees you, he’s got connections.”

  “Appreciate the head’s up.”

  With a nod, Casey headed off to wrap an arm around the curly-haired man’s waist. From the glances of their friends, the only one who didn’t know about Casey’s feelings was curly-hair himself.

  Pleased with himself, the warlock headed on to his apartment. He unlocked his door, tossing his bag onto his kitchen counter as he jumped onto his couch. A quick nap, and he’d be back out on the town.

  Except, his stomach sank, and when he opened his eyes, he stared up into a woman’s face. Her skin glowed, and her hair fell over her shoulders in auburn waves. Crisp blue eyes pinned him in place. Whatever she was, she had magic. Her body glowed with a glamor, but it was unlike anything Ash had seen before.

  “Breaking and entering is a crime,” he grumbled, glaring up at the woman.

  She smiled. A slow expression which only touched the bottom half of her face. “I’ve come to offer you a job.”

  “Could’ve called. I have a cell.”

  “But I do not,” the woman answered, rounding his couch to sit herself in his leather chair. With her wrists crossed and her ankles too, she sat with a straight back. Perfect posture. Never a good sign.

  Swinging his legs down, Ash glared around his apartment, catching the two men who had that similar spelled glow as they went through his apartment. One meandered about his kitchen, seemingly to make tea. The other upended Ash’s bag, sorting through it; however, he didn’t appear to be looking for anything in particular.

  “So? What is this? Retrieval?” Ash asked, stretching as he
settled into the coach in a position to keep his eyes on all three without making it too obvious. “I don’t generally work for magic folks.”

  The woman sighed. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him down her nose like he was a spoon she couldn’t believe was genuinely silver. “Few magic users are well acquainted with the mortal world. I need someone like you.”

  “I’m sure the Head Witch or Warlock could help you just fine,” Ash replied, gritting his teeth when the man in the kitchen fiddled with his stove, turning the gas on and off without letting it light. “Fucking hell!” With a flick of his wrist, he pulled the kettle from the man’s hands and set it on a lit burner. “Stop touching my things unless you want to blow us all up.”

  Adamling softly, the woman smiled, and this time, it reached her eyes. “As you can see, we are unaccustomed to modern mortal inventions.”

  “I’m nobody’s teacher. You want lessons on blending with mortals, go through the proper channels.” Despite his words, Ash couldn’t be sure there were channels for such things. He had always believed the society of warlocks and witches from which his mother had been tossed happened to live right alongside the mortal world. The idea of them being out of the loop left him distrustful. Whoever the woman was, she was somebody rich enough or important enough to warrant two bodyguards. Never a good sign.

  A shiver passed through the air. As the glamor fell, the woman transformed. Her ears became pointed, and the color of her eyes seemed to grow wider. Upon her delicate brow, a crown sat, and her stylish dress transformed into a gown with armor cinching her waist and broadening the delicate slope of her shoulder. Dread pooled in the warlock’s stomach. Sure enough, the guards had medieval armor on and pointed ears as well.

  “You would refuse the Queen of Faerie?”