Stallion Mage: True Mates: Mpreg Romance

by AO Spade

  “We gave grass at everyone’s dwelling,” Alvarr said. “Barron and I are only doing what we can to help the tribe, and you are part of the tribe.” Alvarr kept his voice steady, but his hooves shifted through the snow, instincts to run away lighting up his every nerve. Of the two of them, Nassor was worse.

  And yes, there it was. The mage could see the ugly interest in Nassor’s eyes, the delight of a bully with a victim. Thane looked on with disinterest, doing nothing to stop him.

  Alvarr strained his hearing to pick up any other signs of life, but there was only the soft rush of wind over snow-laden tree branches. They were alone. There was no one else to help him.

  Hot panic bubbled up in the mage, though he tried his best to appear calm. Before, he was unwilling to even consider using his power, for fear of hurting a tribe-brother. But now that I have someone to protect, I may not be able to even use it. At least there was his horn.

  He risked a glance into Nassor’s eyes. Thane had wandered away to the side of the stream, nosing with interest at the buried grass beneath the snow. But Nassor stood tense and ready. His nostrils flared. “You smell sweet, little mare.”

  “I’m not a mare,” Alvarr said steadily. I don’t know what I am.

  “You smell like one,” Nassor grunted.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” the mage replied. He wanted to back away, but stood his ground.

  “There has always been something different about you,” Nassor said. “I like it.”

  A disbelieving laugh escaped from Alvarr before he could reign it in. “No, you don’t! For it is surely magic you smell, and you hate magic.”

  “Well, now it’s good enough for me.” He stepped closer to Alvarr so that his enormous head was only a few feet away.

  What is he going to do?

  “Or rather, for us,” the brutish gray growled.

  Us?

  Heavy hooves descended on Alvarr’s flanks. Thane! All this time, Nassor had been distracting Alvarr, holding his attention, so Thane could act. A shudder rippled his coat, moving the mage's every muscle, but it did nothing to budge the larger black stallion attempting to move into a mating position.

  Alvarr screamed, a cry of panic that rang across the snowy ground, but he knew there was no one to hear. “Get off me!” Panic urged him to kick or run, but he could not move more than a little under Thane's weight.

  Nassor blocked his path, seeming to smile with his cold dark eyes. “Mount him, brother,” the gray encouraged. “Show the mage his true position. Under us.”

  Alvarr felt the long, thick line of Thane’s organ against his rear leg. With all his strength, he bucked to shake off the larger black horse, but Thane pressed all his weight on Alvarr’s back. The mage could not dislodge him.

  Thane jabbed his hips in short, trembling motions, trying to enter him.

  Alvarr shuffled forward in an attempt to put distance between them. This is not how it’s supposed to be. “Why are you doing this? This is against Nature!” he gasped, but he knew why. Those two, of all the tribe, hated magic the most. They wanted to destroy him, even though Alvarr had done nothing but tried to help every tribe member.

  He did what he could to move from side to side, to keep himself from being mounted. I could shift. But he might be crushed beneath Thane’s weight, and he would die.

  And my foal will die. He called to Nature to come to his aid, but the frozen earth did not respond. Again, Alvarr tried to kick back with his rear legs, but only succeeded in stumbling forward on his front legs, nearly buckling at the knee under Thane’s weight. Still, Thane had a hard time with his sudden movements. Though Alvarr knew it would be useless in the end, he put his head down and heaved himself again, making himself trip forward.

  And then, he heard a terrible, pain-filled scream. He raised his head and smelled blood. Red dripped onto the snow from his horn.

  It had pierced Nassor’s chest. Sharper than a tree branch, sharper than a rock, his horn had cut into the big gray’s flesh like it was nothing. This was different than when he had killed the beast in that barren land. He had been trying to save his own life.

  This was violence, however accidental. Alvarr’s stomach revolted. All on its own, his body gave another mighty shake, and Thane's hooves slipped off. Feeling himself free, Alvarr leaped across the snow until a few lengths separated them and lowered his bloody horn until it pointed at Thane, then wounded Nassor.

  “Don’t come any closer,” he yelled. “I will... “ Kill you, he wanted to say, but he knew he would not be able to take a tribe-brother’s life, despite whatever they may do to him.

  In rage, Nassor reared, his massive front legs pawing the air. “I’ll destroy you,” he growled.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Alvarr cried, but it was too late. Rage had taken hold of Nassor. The big gray charged him, and at the last moment, Alvarr turned so that the large stallion's bruising hooves came down on his flank.

  A hot tear opened up in his coat. The mage sensed something behind him, and he kicked back with his rear legs, connecting solidly with what must have been Thane’s chest. “Get away,” Alvarr cried. “Just leave me alone.”

  Blood was flowing freely from the rip in his side. Even if there was no snow, every step would be agony if Alvarr tried to run. He turned in a circle, not daring to let either of them sneak up from behind.

  There was nothing in Thane’s and Nassor’s eyes but madness now. “What is wrong with you?” the mage yelled.

  “We only want a mare,” Thane said, sounding as though Alvarr had done no damage to him.

  Nassor, too, seemed to have shaken off his injuries. Both of them were in better condition than the mage. “We need mares.”

  Understanding stuck Alvarr like a sudden storm. They meant mates! They were dying for mates, and it had twisted them inside until their desire and fear of magic had turned them against him.

  “I am not a mare,” Alvarr said. “And what you’re doing is against Nature,” he warned, still keeping both of them in his sight. “Whatever you do to me, do you think Laren will allow you in the tribe after it?” But he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Alvarr wasn’t so sure the leader could banish them. It would mean their deaths, and the leader could not take stallion lives, the same as Alvarr.

  Thane tossed his black mane, and his nostrils flared. “Laren took what was to be mine. I should have become leader.”

  Shuddering, Alvarr hated to think what would have happened to him if that had been the case. His side throbbed. “Nature chose him,” the mage said. “He did not take it. It was given to him.”

  But the black stallion didn’t seem to have heard. “Now I will take what is his.”

  Alvarr lowered his head, horn at the ready. If Nature wasn’t going to come to his aid, at least he had a weapon.

  Thane and Nassor knew that the mage would not kill himself or anyone else. Still, Alvarr could do real damage. And if there was anything left of him, he could claim that he did fight back.

  Ignoring his wound, Alvarr gave a mighty leap with his back legs and drove his horn into the meat of Thane’s shoulder.

  The black stallion hissed and tried to move back against the snow. “You’ll pay for that, little mare.”

  Nassor’s hooves came down on Alvarr’s back. Pain and alarm flooded into his mind, and this time, the weight was more than he could stand. His legs buckled, and he sank into the snow. Though it would make it harder for them to mount him, the pain and pressure kept him where he was.

  “Make sure he can’t get up, Thane,” Nassor grunted, and Thane stood in front of the mage’s head.

  Alvarr swung his horn from side to side, lashing out with the dangerous tip. It grazed Nassor’s leg, a lucky hit, but the brutish stallion ignored the scrape.

  Breathing so hard he thought he might faint, Alvarr could do nothing but await Thane’s painful attempt to mate him.

  “Stop?” A shout echoed over the silent plain. “What is happening?”

 
; The two tormentors halted, as though they had been turned to ice.

  It was Laren. Alvarr gave a weak cry, but his strength was gone. He doubted Laren would hear him.

  “Get away from him at once.” The compulsion was thicker than Alvarr had ever heard it. Nassor and Thane sprang away as though dragged away by the hand of Nature itself.

  Faster than he thought was possible, the gray leader charged through the snow until he looked at the three of them with fierce eyes. “Someone explain,” he said, his voice tight and hard with fury. Then, his gaze went to Alvarr’s horn and to his side, leaking hot blood into the snow. “You are bleeding.”

  “I fought back,” the mage said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He had started shivering to keep himself warm, using his precious energy.

  “Hardly a fair fight,” the leader said, coldly looking at Thane and Nassor. “Do you not realize,” he said, advancing on Thane, “that Alvarr is part of the reason the tribe has survived? If you had killed him, what then?”

  “We wouldn’t have killed him,” Nassor protested.

  “Oh?” Laren said, his focus seeming to cut the cold air and burn into the gray stallion. “Then what were you doing?”

  Alvarr struggled to stand. His front legs wouldn’t take his weight. “They wanted to mount me,” he said. “I told you this,” he couldn’t help adding. “You were wrong.” Though he knew the leader, had meant to help him, Laren’s had endangered both the mage and his foal.

  A stricken look passed over Laren’s face. The leader made his way to stand next to Alvarr. “What you have done is against Nature,” he said to the mage’s two tormentors.

  But Nassor and Thane refused to back down. “It’s nothing you haven’t done,” the black stallion said. Though blood flowed from the wound in his shoulder where the mage’s horn had pierced him, he showed no sign of being weakened by his injury.

  He hadn’t done anything wrong, but confused shame flooded over Alvarr. They know about Laren and I mating. How could they have known?

  “Yes,” Nassor said. “Why can you mount him, but the rest of us get nothing? Why should we have to wait until the next Time of Mating?”

  Laren rounded on him, looking strong and fierce. “Because Alvarr is my mate.”

  Time seemed to stop.

  He… he said it. He knows we’re mates, and he doesn't sound surprised. But why had the leader denied it? How long had Laren known?

  “Nature means for us to be together,” the leader continued.

  He's so calm about it. The mage could hardly believe that this moment had come, but now that it had, Alvarr didn't know how to feel.

  Laren stood closer to the mage so that Alvarr could share his body heat. “But even if we were not mated, you have no right to take what is not offered.” His voice rang with strength, and the compulsion was so strong, it seemed to warp the air around him. He drew a great breath, seeming to gather his resolve.

  “From this moment on,” Laren said, “you are not to touch, look at, or speak to Alvarr. You will not come closer than five lengths to him. Nor can you partake in anything he grows or provides. You will be dead to him, and he will be dead to you. And,” Laren finished, “you will not seek the Elders for your wounds, but let them heal as they will… or will not.”

  Though the leader stood firm, Alvarr detected small tremors through his lean body. He has used too much power as well.

  Those two stood in shock. Laren might have just sentenced them to death, the mage realized. He had given Alvarr the power to kill them. All the mage had to do was stay close to the foraging areas, and the compulsion put upon them would keep them back.

  But the mage could not protest. Thane and Nassor were a danger, not just to him, but the entire tribe, who might come to depend on what the mage could provide.

  “Can you shift?” Laren asked. “If you can shift, I can help you back to camp.”

  “I will not be able to walk,” Alvarr said. “The muscle is torn.” He knew he was hurt, rather than felt the pain. Is that bad? That might be bad, he thought.

  The leader stared at Thane and Nassor. “Go,” he commanded, and the two, released from their compulsion, fled.

  Alvarr heard his two tormentors escape, but instead of relief and freedom, he was just cold. A great shiver rippled through the mage’s body, as if an icy finger was reaching toward his heart.

  Laren folded his legs and knelt beside him. “Shift,” he said. “Lie across my back, and I will carry you back to the healing tent.”

  Alvarr shook his mane. “You must get me to Elder Pastor in the mountain cave,” he said. “He is the most skilled healer.”

  “Very well,” Laren replied, “but hurry. We have little time to lose.”

  Now, the mage could hear the edge of urgency and concern in the leader's voice. Has that always been there, and I failed to notice? He did not know. Alvarr swallowed. “I may not be able to stand,“ he said, and prepared for what might happen when he changed to two-legs. Nature, guard me.

  He shifted, and a sharp scream tore out of his throat at the pain. The gash ran over his outer hip and thigh, and the wound itself wasn’t a clean slice, but damage to skin and muscle done by blunt, heavy hooves.

  Alvarr swallowed down another moan of pain, not wanting to worry his mate, but when he thought about moving, his legs just refused. “I can’t walk at all,” he gasped. His bare skin touched the snow, and he could not tell if he was burning or freezing.

  “Hold on to me. I'll pull you up. It will hurt,“ Laren warned, and knelt down on the cold ground.

  Unfolding himself, Alvarr crawled over his mate's body and wrapped his arms around Laren’s gray neck. He found the position more than uncomfortable, but it was the only way he could get to Elder Pastor. “I’m ready, I think.”

  “I’m standing up. Do not fall,” the leader said, and slowly rose on his strong, steady legs.

  Alvarr’s eyes rolled back as sick pain throbbed down his leg. It dragged limply over Laren’s flank, and the deeply torn muscle and skin stretched until fresh blood seeped out. He clutched Laren’s neck so tightly his hands ached. He was probably hurting Laren too, but the leader stood fast.

  Just hold on, the mage told himself, burying his face in Laren’s gray coat. He could tell that his blood was smearing onto Laren’s flank, but could not tell how much of it there was. He hoped the cold would slow the bleeding. There is nothing I can do about it but seek the Elder.

  End of Book 2.

  I'm sorry to leave it at such a place, but I could not find a better break between the second and third parts. I hope you will forgive me for ending on a cliff-hanger. But the last part will not be far behind.

  My thanks to:

  0) As always, the friend who gave me the excellent creative prompt of 'mpreg horse shifters.' I haven't read any mpreg shifter stories, which brings us to the next recipient of my gratitude...

  1) The awesome, kind people who are reviewing, including gaybook.reviews, Rainbow Gold, and Open Skye reviews. They mostly say something like this is really weird and creative, keep it up. Well, I'm glad everyone is finding it creative. It's probably because I have never read ANY other mpreg stuff. I'm making it all up.

  2) Anyone who reads my work. As always, I'm honored to entertain you with my weird fantasy story.

  Tell me what you think on Amazon.

  Think this story is weird? Wild? A juicy pile of confusing, steaming junk? Whatever your response is, go ahead, review this book on Amazon, your blog, etc. Don't hold back on my account (though I'll understand if you don't want people to know you read mpreg horse shifter fantasy.) Be bold! Be honest! Be detailed! And perhaps above all... be entertaining!

  Until Book 3... Which I hope doesn't need as much rewriting as this one.

  - Acey

  Latest updates / news can be found here.

  https://www.wattpad.com/user/aospade

  If you want a say in what I attempt next, check that space soon for a poll / discussion. I'm open to ide
as. That's how I got into this trouble in the first place.