The Fae Prince's Fated Mate: M/M Gay Paranormal Romance Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Given half a chance, Ash would’ve portaled right out of the apartment, but he recognized when he was outmatched. Like the bodybuilding mortals, fae weren’t a group anybody should turn their back on. If they slammed through his wards without setting a single one off, they would run circles around any attack spell in his arsenal. Biting his lip, the warlock sighed. That left only one solution.

  “I’m a born American, ma’am. We don’t exactly kowtow to royalty,” Ash informed her as he toyed with his rings. All around them, strings shifted in and out of view. “If you’ve done your research, you’ll also know I’m not tied to any coven or the system at large. Anything they owe you, I’m not part of - so you’re going to have to treat with me one-on-one.”

  The queen settled into his leather chair with a confident smirk. “I am aware, Mr. Eld.”

  Brilliant. The Queen of Faerie knew his real name. But Ash refused to let her know it got to him. Legally, everything was under the name Ashley Brand. To know his name, she would have either had to have had far more talent with mortal means than her guards showed or intimate knowledge of his mother and himself from the guild. Any hope he had of using her as a reason to reach out and get an actual response from them vanished.

  “So - what’s the job?”

  She folded her hands. Long fingers with pristine nails glistened. “I want you to find my son’s fated mate.”

  The strings trembled. He could see from them that she had only one child. Her fated mate lived. A fae male by the look of the string, which explained why they only had one child. Legend said fae weren’t terribly talented at reproducing.

  “You must be excited to get some fresh blood into the family if your son’s mate isn’t a fae,” Ash announced, and the guards tensed.

  Both of them were mated. To each other. Neither capable of carrying, but fate paired them nonetheless. From the trembling of their strings - ones of citizens and knights to their monarch, her son’s mate seemed a sore point. Fae had that sort of haughty ethnocentrism. They bottlenecked themselves into near complete sterility, but they always thought themselves better than humans or any magical humanoid. Everything he’d ever read, she lived up to brilliantly.

  The queen stared him down. “I would be more excited if he wasn’t determined to meet his mate naturally.”

  “Naturally?”

  “My granddam was a warlock,” she informed him, and Ash did his best to hide his surprise, but the queen’s lips twisted into a superior smirk. “Shocking, I know. He had a talent for strings - just like you.”

  Frowning, Ash studied the way her lines shifted. “Lie.”

  “Well, I suppose your skill is more innate than his. He studied to master the art, but you seem to have stumbled upon it,” the queen corrected. A wrinkle formed between her brows, but she fought against whatever expression tried to make its way onto her face.

  “All warlocks have their talents.” The guards had a thought about that comment. They glanced at each other, and a sense of longing passed between them. Shifting, Ash glanced at them. “If you’re that eager to get knocked up, I know a forest god who’d be more than happy to help.”

  Both flushed. Neither spoke. Of course not. They weren’t here for themselves, and odds were that at least one forest in Faerie had a deity capable of bestowing the ability to conceive on one or both of the pair.

  The queen, however, did. “Often such blessings have complications.”

  “Higher fertility in the offspring, physical weakening of the dam. Suppose the latter wouldn’t be great for a guard,” Ash commented, and sure enough, a small almost imperceptible thrum of resentment hummed between the guards and the queen.

  “My uncle wedded an island god.”

  The warlock’s gaze shifted back to the queen. “I’ve read before that fae can’t lie. Is it because your granddam was a warlock that you can?”

  “You are straying from the point,” the queen retorted. “When the time is right, they may seek a blessing, but until my son is settled, Faerie cannot afford its protectors to be distracted.”

  “Wow...that sucks.”

  A thrum of resigned agreement from the guards and displeasure from the queen. She had no patience for fate to take its course with her son, but she seemed ready to perpetuate the slow crawl of it for those in her service. Neither were signs of a woman he wished to serve, but the same traits made him wearier than before to refuse her.

  That didn’t mean he had any intention of giving up easily. If he could wriggle his way out of the mess and make his way to one of his other safe houses in New York or Los Angeles, he would take the chance. Helping the fae seemed dangerous. They had their own rules, and given half a chance, they would take him for all he was worth. Without the guild, he could make whatever bargain he wanted, but so could they.

  “So, you want me to find your son’s fated mate while not letting your son know because he wants to do it without magical intervention,” the warlock paraphrased, and when the queen inclined her head slightly in confirmation, he sighed. “If I’m doing this, it occurs in my territory. I control the portals. Everything happens on Earth, all transportation is under my control.”

  The queen inclined her head again. “It would be easiest to introduce you two in Faerie, but I understand your reluctance.” She didn’t. She really didn’t.

  “Everything occurs on Earth. No magic will be used on or against me without my consent at any point or time during this process or in the future. Also - if you want to employ me as some magical wingman, you have to protect me from any response your son might have,” Ash demanded, pulling out his phone to write out the rules to keep track for himself.

  Staying out of Faerie and preventing retaliation from the tricked prince stand at the forefront in the warlock’s mind. Given half a chance, fae used the rules for their benefit. Deals with them - like demons - required iron bonding and cauterizing for every loophole. Anything left to bleed will.

  “No harm will come to you from any fae,” the queen swore, which went beyond what Ash believed he could request, but he’d take it.

  She seemed confident. Certain that anything he asked would be worth the benefits she would receive. Openings like this rarely turned up.

  “What access do you have to modern currency?” Ash asked. Gold was good, but something he didn’t need to sell off would be better.

  Frowning, she gestured for the guard who had ransacked his bag to come closer. The man pulled out a coin purse, and he handed it to Ash. Despite the way it jangled, the warlock held his breath, hoping it would be at least modern coins. When he turned it over in his hand, aureus - ancient Roman gold - poured into his palm. A small spark of magic revealed no spells.

  His eyes rose to meet her cool gaze. “These haven’t been in circulation for several hundred years…”

  “They have worth.”

  Swallowing, he tossed the coin purse on the ground between them. “Your name would be worth more.”

  “I am Teguhi, Queen of Faerie. Mother of Voski,” the royal announced, and her cords thrummed true.

  “Teguhi…” he murmured the name, testing the taste on his tongue. “No magic - no spells at all on me from any inhabitants of Faerie or you allies. Nothing. That and the agreement that I can end our deal at any time for any reason.”

  “If the deal ends before my son is bound to his mate, any protections end as well,” Teguhi retorted, and he shook his head.

  “I can walk away without punishment. You can never send anybody after me, or we don’t have a deal,” Ash said, drawing the line in the proverbial sand between them.

  Her eyes narrowed, but as the strings predicted, she bowed her head, acquiescing. “I agree to your terms. Overmorrow, I will bring my son to meet you. He will be told you are to assist him in adapting to the modern mortal world. You will teach him the appropriate methods of courtship.”

  “I agree.”

  When he reached out his hand, the guards tensed, but she signaled t
hem to stand down and took his hand in her own. “Then we have an accord.”

  A single up and down sealed the promise between them, and Teguhi stood, sweeping towards the balcony to his apartment. “The day after tomorrow, I will return with my son. Be ready.”

  And at once, the three fae ducked out onto his balcony and sidestepped between worlds, leaving Ash alone. The warlock huffed, rubbing his hands over his face. Romance had never enchanted him. Love led to mistakes. Made fools spread their legs to men who would ruin them given even the slightest hint of a threat to their supposedly good name. For the sake of whoever had the other end of the prince’s damned string, Ash intended to teach the fae that not everyone bowed to power. Some humiliation would humble him, so he would not have the arrogance of his mother.

  “This is going to be a mistake,” Ash grumbled, but with a flick of his wrist, he locked the balcony door and headed to his laptop to research ways to protect against fae.

  Chapter Three

  The gardens of the High Palace of Faerie had no equal. Green spread across the world. Flowers bloomed in a thousand colors. Surrounded by fruit trees and the quiet hum of nature, Voski sat amongst the long grass, mimicking the flowers which turned to follow the vague glow of the not-quite sun of Faerie. Only in these moments away from court did the prince find peace. One day, he would have to rule. His parents would move on to the afterlife or retire as their parents had first. Then, he would be tied to courtly stiffness and the beautiful but tiresome intricacies of etiquette which remained as unmoved as the fae themselves. In the gardens, time moved faster.

  About his left middle finger, the ring his mother gave him hummed, summoning him back to the court. With a sigh, Voski stood. The glistening stained glass poured color onto the white stone canvas of the floors and walls. He kept his spine straight, placing the pieces of his princely mask in order. A calm face - neither blank nor content. Not an ounce of dirt or pollen on his clothes. Gold hair - inherited from his great-grandfather styled into neat curls about his face. His emerald eyes skipped over the colors, longing to touch them, but a prince had no desire for something so simple. Royals stood pristine.

  “Voski, thank me,” his mother commanded from the tall straight-back chair behind her desk.

  Bowing his head, he said, “Thank you, mother.”

  “I have found you a warlock who abandoned the guild to live among modern mortals,” the queen informed him, and blinking, he pushed down the hope sparking in his heart. “His name is Ash Eld.”

  Voski inhaled slowly, keeping his voice apathetic. “When will he arrive?”

  “He won’t.” Her eyes fell to her papers even as she spoke. Despite himself, Voski’s brows furrowed. “You will go to him. If you wish to find your mate without intervention, you need to learn their language. Courtship isn’t the same amongst mortals.” Meeting his curious gaze, she smiled. “Unless you’ve changed your mind…”

  “No,” the word shot out of him. Flushing that he had lost face, he avoided his mother’s pointed stare as he settled the facade back into place. “I am most grateful to learn from Warlock Ash Eld.”

  Tilting her chin up, she studied him down the straight line of her nose. “I expect you to return when you have found your mate.”

  “It may be some time. The mortal world is wide,” Voski replied, desperately trying to swallow the excitement which threatened to brighten his tone.

  Already back to her paperwork, she hummed. “Unlikely.”

  She did not need to dismiss him. He gave a slight bow and retreated. Mind buzzing with possibilities, Voski rushed as quickly as was appropriate to his chambers. The second the door closed, he crowed, screaming his joy to the roof, knowing magic would keep any sound from leaving his chambers.

  His red string buzzed, alive and well though he could not see it. Somewhere, his mate would feel his joy. A mate he would love. Who he would learn to woo in a way they would understand. His consciousness reached for them. Want and love burning hot as the sun he had never seen in his chest. He could not wait to meet Ash Eld. Even the name sounded completely unique. A strange and curt two syllables.

  ***

  His mother’s propriety had him expecting an old man, but when the warlock opened the glass doorway to allow him and his mother entry, his face suggested he was similar in age to the prince himself. Honey-gold eyes sparkled. They captured all light - a purer gold than the prince’s hair. Glimmering the same hue as a sunflower’s petals.

  “You had dark curls before,” his mother proclaimed, drawing more attention to the rich pinks and purples which colored his spiked hair.

  The warlock cocked a black brow. “I also didn’t have my piercings in. Hope silver won’t be a problem.”

  Pink lips parted into a cool smile. A silver stud in his brow, hoops in his ears, and when he opened his mouth, another flash of silver glimmered on his tongue. He was so bright. So many colors and decorated with precious metals. Black leather pants clung to long lean legs, and a loose black shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing brightly colored ink. Magic danced about him. Wild and untamed. A flower in human form.

  Reassured that he did not need to keep his facade before the other man, Voski beamed, jumping forward to pull the man into a tight embrace. “Thank you, Warlock Ash Eld! I cannot thank you enough for taking me under your guidance!”

  He smelt like freedom. Sweet and solid like fresh wood. If this were how mortals lived, Voski would cast aside his throne to stay in such a beautiful, colorful world.

  Pulling back, Voski rushed about the room, exploring the furniture before he headed into the kitchen. There were so many machines. Lights running on lightning rather than fire. A box made cold without magic.

  “There’s so much to learn,” he cheered even as his mother frowned. There was no court here. No one to hide from, and the slight smile on the warlock’s face suggested he didn’t mind the prince’s enthusiasm. Spinning, the blond beamed. “Teach me how to woo a mortal, Mr. Ash Eld.”

  ***

  Old fashioned described the queen from the crown on her head to the way she set her feet, so bleaching his hair and dying it magenta and electric purple seemed the quickest way to voice his displeasure with having her invade his home. Silver piercings in place to test one myth and iron set about the apartment in strategic places to test another. From her sour expression, Ash’s appearance struck the right cord; however, he hadn’t been expecting her son.

  Golden hair and emerald eyes, he seemed to be an artist’s rendition of the ideal man than a person in his own right. Perfect symmetry to his face. Full plush lips which parted to reveal impossibly white teeth. If his canines were a bit sharp, it almost made his wide-eyed wonder all the more endearing. Any fan of the Iliad would have loved to see the prince in his tanned muscular glory playing the mighty Achilles - gorgeous beyond measure, but when the prince joyously embraced Ash, the warlock struggled to see him as more than a terribly sheltered man.

  “Just call me Ash,” the warlock instructed, and the prince smiled all the brighter. With a sigh, the warlock rocked back on his heels. “We’re going to have to work on the sparkles.”

  Voski tilted his head. His bright green eyes pierced Ash. “Sparkles?”

  “You must assume a mortal glamor,” the queen instructed.

  Though her tone held no particular tone, her stance listed just a hair back toward the balcony. The sooner she left, the better. Gesturing back toward the glass door, Ash smiled. “I can handle this. Please leave your son in my care.”

  Without a glance at her son, the queen returned to the balcony and vanished back to Faerie. Ash closed the door. Tension drained just a bit from his shoulders, but even as friendly as the prince seemed, he was a fae, and they could not be trusted. Smiles could be faked. Naive friendliness often turned to spoiled tantrums. If he shared even an ounce of his mother’s personality, the next few days - or gods forbid weeks - would be beyond irritating. A game of patience. With that weighing on his mind, Ash clicked the lock i
n place.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Voski said, collapsing onto Ash’s couch. “I thought she’d linger.”

  Despite himself, the warlock Adamled, and the fae prince sparkled all the more. “We’ve got to get your glamor sorted.”

  “Can’t I not wear one while we’re in your apartment?” Voski murmured, pouting.

  Ash’s brows furrowed. “I mean, you don’t have to, but you need to be able to do one.”

  All at once, the sparkles vanished. Though still impossibly handsome, Voski stood before Ash with rounded ears and in all appearances a mortal man. The prince smiled brightly, and the warlock almost swore he saw a glimmer of magic, but it wasn’t any worse than some of the hottest guys at the club or some fresh-faced movie star. Lounging stylishly on Ash’s couch, he posed coyly. His plush lips hidden behind one forearm as he shifted his hips, and Ash’s eyes dipped where they shouldn’t. This wasn’t a guy from the club. He wasn’t a one night stand.

  Seemingly satisfied, Voski dropped the glamor and glimmered once more with his dazzling smile. “See! I’m actually rather good at glamors.”

  “Great.” Ash ran a hand through his multicolored hair. “I guess we start on your education then.”

  The prince popped up, sitting at attention. “What first?”

  “Movies.” Grabbing the remote, the wizard kicked back in his leather chair, tossing a leg over one of the chair’s arms as he leaned toward the prince. “Flirting requires understanding the media. I’ve picked some of the most romantic movies of all time. We’ll watch them, get your stomach acquainted with human food, and when that’s said and done, you and I are off to Paris.”

  “Paris? That’s in France, isn’t it?”

  “Yep! Paris, the city of love,” Ash crooned. If he was going to be stuck with a prince, he planned to get his money’s worth. Gesturing toward the television, the warlock told him, “Just watch the screen.”

  Clutching a pillow to his chest, Voski settled in. “This is so exciting!”