The Fae King's Fated Mate

By J.B. Black

A reclusive warlock falls for the fated ‘Prince Charming’ he swore he never needed.

Warlock Fannar refuses to be controlled by destiny. His parents showed how disastrous fated mates could be, and he has no intention of becoming victim to the same fate. A seer foretells a mate who encompasses everything he fears, but cords can be cut. Fannar's magic is unrivaled. No one will chain him, and if destiny intends to intercede, he'll cut it down a second time.

But his preparations never accounted for love.

Where Fannar fears his match, Idris dreams of finding an equal. Someone to love. A husband to rule beside him. He never expected his fate to run. Can Idris convince Fannar love is worth the risk?

The Fae King’s Fated Mate is a gay fantasy romance with mpreg. It has high heat, no cheating and a HEA.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.B. Black
• Release date: Apr 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224670468

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 King’s Fated Mate

Gay Mpreg Fantasy Romance

J.B. Black

The Fae King’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 KING’S FATED MATE

Copyright © 2024

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.

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Other Works By JB Black:

Shorts

Red Rider’s Fertile Mate

Pucked Up

Taking the Knight

Taken by the Faerie King

The Pirate and the Sea God

The Breeding Demon’s Perverted Mate

The Incubus’s Fertile Mate

Fae Lord’s Fertile Mate

Bred for the New Year

Possessed

Novellas

Pining Rival to Virile Mate

Sea God’s Pirate Mate

Fae Prince’s Fated Mate

The Saucy Bard’s Potent Paladin

The Forest God’s Fertile Hunter

Claimed by the Crossroad God

Proud Dragon’s Fated Mate

Crown Prince’s Fated Mate

The Erlkonig’s Fated Mate

The Dwarf’s Forbidden Love

The Fae Lord’s Fated Mate

The Island God’s Fated Mate

The Proud Paladin’s Devilish Dullahan

The Wandering Warlock’s Fated Mate

The Siren’s Stoic Mate

Fated for the Harvest God

The Warlock’s Viking King

Chapter One

Music filled the air. Sweet cakes and roasting meat perfumed the air, curling around Fannar’s nose as he explored the festival grounds. Other children rushed about playing games and running this way and that. All sorts of shifters and magic users celebrated the summer with lantern lights and bright colors, opening the doorway even for the fae to join. Lithe forms with stoic expressions and pointed ears. Each more beautiful than the last. A week long holiday! Fannar couldn’t believe his luck.

As drunk as many of the adults were, they freely bargained knowledge for small trinkets. Spellbooks, amulets, potions, and more spread in pockets which would laughing turn them over to eager young hands. All he needed to do was present himself as the best, and nobody could argue. Even the oldest witches and warlocks praised Fannar, patting his black hair and exclaiming he was far too clever for his own good. While the rest of the warlocks his age were apprentices, he had graduated to journeyman over a year ago. His skill in arcane magic placed him above the rest. They were ants in comparison.

And he hadn’t needed to summon a familiar. They could have their cats and birds. The rare dog and lizard might even help, but Fannar managed his excellence without anyone’s help. His master had barely lifted a finger in his aid. The drunk bastard only took him in to shut the rest of the elders up when they complained about how dangerous Fannar was. They didn’t know the half of it!

Eyeing the stands, he picked out a group of older druids. They had plants laid out on the table before them. A line of dandelions danced upon the table as the four men drank, laughing at the bobbing yellow heads.

I could use a greener thumb, Fanner murmured with a grin.

However, as he marched toward the men, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. His magic flared, snaking out around him as danger shifted on the edge of his perception. Someone watched him. Someone powerful and important enough to influence his destiny. Whoever they were, he would be damned before he let them stop him. He had a goal — to become the most powerful magic user the world had ever seen. Even the fae would tremble before him: an all—mighty warlock, capable of bringing cities low. Finally, his reputation for being the ruination of kingdoms would be more than just mockery of the lowest point in his life.

But destiny was fickle. When it set its mind on a path, like a river, it forged ahead, pushing low the ground regardless of how people attempted to dam the route, so when a pale man with hair like spun gold and pure blue eyes bumped into him, Fannar tensed, sending up a shield.

Excuse me, Fannar gritted, recognizing the fae and knowing better than to be rude to one.

Long fingers wrapped around his arm. You are destined to be a grand and powerful warlock.

That caught Fannar’s attention. He had never met a natural psychic before. Despite having some training in divination, a seer’s perspective could prove priceless. Setting aside the druids, Fannar gave the man a practiced smile. The one which often put the adults around him at ease.

That’s an interesting talent! I’ve never meant someone who can see the future before, Fannar said, studying the expensive robes and cloak which dressed the man. Though his hood was up, the young warlock caught a sparkle of gemstones in his golden hair. Where did you train?

The fae smiled, leaning close as he whispered, I was born with the gift.

You didn’t hone it? How disappointing. Still, Fannar held his opinion to himself. That must be...wonderful.

With a shake of his head, the psychic frowned. You will be a grand and powerful warlock…

So you said.

...until you meet your fated mate, who will steal you from this realm, the fae warned. His brows rose like a peak in what seemed feigned distress, but Fannar had never been good at determining the sincerity of another’s expression.

Tugging free of the other’s grip, he folded his arms over his chest. A fae then? How original. Iron or silver should keep me from harm.

The fae psychic shook his head. Your fated is powerful. He will one day be king and has the money — and magic, to force you to be his against your will.

Unlikely. Perhaps you’re seeing someone else’s destiny, Fannar retorted, stepping away from the man, but the psychic followed, staying close.

He will have you upon his throne. Claim you as his own, and from your body shall come powerful princes, the fae predicted.

Flinching at the very thought of having children, the young warlock scoffed, I would never let that happen. I’m no man’s broodmare.

A spark glinted in the fae seer’s eyes. His grasping hands twitched. But your fate is to spread your legs for him. He’ll make you wanton — lustful and needy to be filled by him until your body bears his seed. His magic shall make your own turn against you, the psychic whispered, and though he kept his tone low, his voice seemed to carry, and the eyes of those passing appeared to look at Fannar with pity as if they too could see his fate — to spend his life upon his back with some king slobbering between his thighs.

That will not come to be, Fannar announced. I will become immortal and be the most powerful magic user in the realm. In all realms! No one can stop me.

With a nod, he turned, intending to leave the psychic for the druids, but the fae chased after him, calling to him, You cannot outrun your fate. Young you are now, but you will grow, and your fate will come for you.

His bright eyes narrowed. Blue—gray shimmered like chips of ice as he glowered back at the fae. Then I shall make sure fate never finds me.

When the psychic reached for him again, Fannar teleported away. Deep in an enchanted forest, he had spent his first months as a journeyman building a cabin which could not be found unless he told someone where it was. Even if Fannar led a person back to the place, unless he spoke the specifics of its location in the way he had melded into its warding, no one could return to it once he sent them away, and if anyone sought him, he appeared to have ceased to exist while he secluded himself there.

Fate could search for him, but not a soul could find him in his cabin, and he refused to be some broodmare for anyone. His body would never grow gravid. No one would chain him to them by fate or by child or by such