The Fae Prince's Fated Mate

By J.B. Black

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.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.B. Black
• Release date: Feb 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005604196

J.B. Black

Three sides to take care of all your wanton desires:Jess adores the steamy side of romance, exploring the quick scenes that leave your heart fluttering as strong, fertile heroines find their Happily Ever Afters!If you enjoy mpreg and a wake on the more fantastical side with fated mates, JB Black will fulfill your every desire.Brendol enjoys M/M without the fantastical edge. No pregnancies, just gay sex and romance!

Book preview

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

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