From Warlock’s Familiar to His Alpha Husband

By J.B. Black

A string of bad boyfriends haunts Ronan, but the warlock refuses to give up on love. It isn't his first time refusing to bend to what the universe seems determined to give him. When told he had a talent for battle magic, he pursued charms and healing. While his friends sought greatness and renown, Ronan wanted a cozy cottage in the woods with the man he loved by his side. If only he could find that man.

Ciar hates watching the man he loves get hurt again and again, but what can a familiar do? His only connection to Ronan is their bond as warlock and familiar, and if he goes human, that connection will break. Even though he's sure they are fated to be together, what if he's wrong?

Fresh off his latest disastrous romance, Ronan makes an offhanded remark which changes the direction of their lives forever. But can the newly human Ciar convince the anxious warlock that he's here to stay? Or will Ronan's fear of losing the one person who had been with him through it all keep him from realizing the true love he's always dreamed of?

A fantasy fated friends-to-lovers romance with a twist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.B. Black
• Release date: May 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005608699

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

From Warlock’s Familiar to His Alpha Husband

M/M Gay Paranormal Romance

J. B. Black

From Warlock’s Familiar to His Alpha Husband by J.B. 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.

FROM WARLOCK’S FAMILIAR TO HIS ALPHA HUSBAND

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

Ciar sat upon the top of the highest bookshelf in the study. His green gaze traced the furniture below with growing frustration as the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room counted out each second as if to remind him that Ronan had still not returned. Books neatly piled here and there where the warlock had left them as he worked to restock his tiny shop of the most commonly requested positions and charms. An organized mess — a cozy chaos. The low light of a cool fall mid-morning cascaded through murky windows. Ronan never liked clear glass, and the rainbow of hues which colored his world warmed the bland browns and dried greens of the warlock’s workspace.

Cedar and smoke filled Ciar’s nose. Itched as he kept his face low and shoulders high, fighting the urge to tear the entire domain apart for the one thing missing: Ronan himself.

Where are you, you bastard? Ciar grumbled as his tail twitched back and forth.

Having left the night before on another date, Ronan dressed in clothes that Ciar hated. The ones which made the warlock smell uneasy, but the ones which made men’s eyes cling to his lithe body, taking in the round curve of his perky bottom. If the warlock had returned late the night before, Ciar might not have worried. Those dates ended poorly for simpler reasons. Maybe someone chewed too loudly. Another might have insulted the waitress or picked his teeth at the table. Some unintelligent, arrogant opinion flung between them as fact, and Ronan would be unable to continue the romance.

Ciar rather the men were quick on the draw to show if they were unworthy of his master, but when the affair stretched into the following day — and even deeper into the morning — panic rose, leaving Ciar unable to keep still. Tension rose, and he cursed again and again that his innate magic did not allow him to give himself a human form. If he wanted that, he would have to give up his role as his master’s familiar, and as much certainty as he had that they belonged together — that they had to be fated mates, if Ronan refused to acknowledge that possibility as things stood now, Ciar found himself too afraid to risk it.

Shaking off the tension, the familiar leaped down from the bookshelf, bouncing from perch to perch until he prowled along the wooden floors of their cottage.

One day, Ronan would bring back a man. Someone Ronan wanted to stay. A man to make a family with, and no matter how unworthy and stupid and absolutely useless that man was in comparison to Ciar, their idiotic bodies would win them attention which Ciar could not obtain.

Sighing, the familiar glowered at his master’s bed. Not that you would even consider me were I to be human.

No — Ronan would not have even looked twice at Ciar if the male had not been his familiar. His type of men were cruel. Cold and callous and demanding. Men who thought of affection like money — earned and never freely given. Greedy, miserly men who wanted the sensual body — the lean muscle, long legs, and round ass of the warlock without consideration to his heart.

Like Brandon. The familiar could not even hope for the date to end quickly because it was a date with a man who had already moved beyond those simple reasons for rejection. He might have left bruises, sent Ronan home with a painful limp, and even outright ignored the warlock once when they crossed paths in town, but that was all well after he had stolen the fragile and loyal warlock’s heart.

Climbing onto the bed, Ciar curled up on the warlock’s pillow. Even if he rolled all over the bed, he would never be able to push his scent in the way a man might. Never be able to blend their scents until the bed smelled of sex and them and everything good in the world.

Another hour came and went as the familiar dozed, and when the front door opened, Ciar tensed, but only a single pair of feet sounded in slow, dragging footfalls.

Hissing softly, he sprinted to jump upon the top of the wardrobe to resist clawing apart the sheets. The last thing Ronan needed was his bed in tatters after the night he had obviously had.

You’re late, Ciar complained when Ronan came into view.

The warlock’s coat fell unbuttoned over his slim shoulders. His jeans hung cockeyed on his hips, revealing a stretch of pale skin already mottling with a purple bruise that left the familiar aching to sink his teeth in whoever had last touched his beloved masted. Dark curls too short to cover the hollow expression of his full lips twisted in a pained frown as his dark lashes curled, fanning over his high cheekbones.

How could someone raise a hand against someone so beautiful? The question haunted Ciar, but each man seemed worse than the last. They left their marks. Bruises and invisible wounds which lasted longer than the limp or the dribbles of cum which had — on occasion — crusted the warlock’s thighs.