The Wandering Warlock's Fated Mate: M/M Gay Paranormal Romance

by J B Black

  Maybe he doesn’t want me. Castor began to think once more. Maybe fate forced me upon him like Fannar’s mate. Perhaps I’m not what he wanted.

  Growing depressed, Castor found himself unspeakably relieved when he received a call for aid from the red dragons with whom he had made the crossing. However, the mess he found when the dragon entered the tavern spoke of far worse circumstances than the optimistic proclamation the dragon had earlier sent before the request for aid.

  “You look terrible,” the warlock Castor said in lieu of greeting.

  In human form, the crimson dragon slumped into the seat beside his friend at the bar. The ale which Castor ordered to be delivered upon his arrival slammed onto the counter before Radek, and the warlock offered a sad smile. They likely both looked a right mess to any onlookers. Even if his humanoid countenance failed to show his exhaustion, his posture gave him away. Slumped shoulders and a bowed head marked Radek as a man beaten low.

  With a shake of his head, the dragon said, “I’m an idiot. Here I am pouting like a child while you’re going to the ends of the earth to rescue your poor mate.” Downing the pint in one go, he signaled to the bartender to keep them coming. “Why can’t we be mates? You do so much for him, and you haven’t even met your mate yet.”

  “My mate got himself cursed. It isn’t like he can come find me,” Castor retorted, sipping on his own smaller glass of whiskey. He had already purchased a bottle which sat half empty at his side. Side-eyeing his friend, the warlock sighed. “I suppose I should ask you what happened with this mate of yours. Your letter sounded promising. What happened?”

  “I thought I could overcome my mistake, but everything is just…” Radek gulped down another pint then another before he sobbed, “He won’t even give me a chance.”

  Self-pitying served no purpose, and it was all too easy to remind someone else of that even as he suffered from his own: “Because you invaded his territory.”

  Radek threw up his hands. “It was an accident!”

  “Dragons on this continent are more territorial. I imagine it only gets worse if he’s entering his breeding season,” Castor replied. Tossing back the remains of his drink, he tilted the bottle, pouring himself another. It would be the first time in ages he was drunk, but it wasn’t like Radek would let him sleep with someone who wasn’t his mate.

  And of course, the dragon had to bring that up from the start: “And your mate?”

  Castor huffed. “What about him?”

  “Any new dreams? I haven’t heard of any cursed princes lately…”

  Rolling his eyes, the warlock ran a hand through his pale blond hair. “I’m almost out of cursed folks on this continent. I’ll have cured the whole damn world before I find the idiot. I have no idea where he’s stuck or what he is.”

  “Wasn’t he trying to give you hints last time?” Radek asked, and Castor sagged under the weight of the answer.

  “He told me to give up on him. First time he ever let me do more than kiss him in our shared dreams, and he stopped me right before we got past rutting like inexperienced teens to tell me to give up and find happiness elsewhere,” Castor ended with a line of curses which made even the drunk barbarian at the end of the bar flush a bright pink. His eyes darkened, and resting his head in his hands, the warlock swore, “I’m going to wreck him when I find him.”

  After studying his friend a moment, Radek knocked their shoulders together in gentle camaraderie. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

  Off and on, Radek had come across him on his travels in the first few months. When his magic waned and soles split from the rest of his boots, the dragon happened to have another pair. It would be easy to love someone like Radek. Well, if he hadn’t made a mess of the start. Knowing dragons around these parts, Castor understood the territorial fever a brooding season could start, but he had never insulted one and never been up close. His father often warned him away from areas where dragons frequented. In season, they could be worse than forest gods about protecting their mates and their nests, and the warlock had well seen how awful forest gods could be about their brides.

  The poor red dragon hung his head. Tears lined his lower lashes. “If we’re fated, shouldn’t it be easier than this?”

  “For me, of course. I’m a delight,” Castor joked even if it felt hollow in his chest. “You? Eh. Pain in the ass sounds about right.”

  “Hey!” the dragon exclaimed.

  Castor laughed, sloshing his drink as he dodged the dragon’s joking fury. “You could easily settle in a village, rent a room or something until you two sorted everything out, but you’re a stubborn bastard, staying right in that mountain when he’s made it clear that’s the biggest wall between you two.”

  “He’s in danger!” Radek argued though his flush suggested he hadn’t even considered the possibility. “What if another dragon comes along that doesn’t listen?”

  Castor cocked a brow. “You mean like you?”

  Sinking forward, Radek groaned. His hand knocked over the almost empty pint of ale as he reached for the full one the bartender set beside it, spilling the scent of fermented amber liquid across him.

  “Idiot,” Castor laughed. “You stink.”

  At first Radek glared, but something toward the door caught his eye, and he paled with terror. “Oh god.”

  Castor glanced at him, pouring another glass of whiskey. “What?”

  “That’s him,” Radek murmured, pointing toward the door.

  Shifting in his seat, Castor studied his friend’s mate. Black-haired and tall as Radek, he definitely caught everyone’s attention. Somehow, he balanced between handsome and beautiful with full lips and sharp angles. Half-drunk as the warlock was, he might have been far more upset to see their mates so similar if the man had been pale instead of caramel in skin tone. Obsidian eyes slid over the men in the bar, but nothing seemed to strike their fancy. Pretty enough eyes, but they had nothing on quicksilver, and the unblemished skin failed to arouse the desire to run his tongue over every inch the way Nasi did.

  Likely for the best, Radek seemed enough of a mess about his mate without his friend desiring him. To make matters worse, it was obvious the other dragon was on the hunt. Strange. Dragons didn’t usually mate outside their species.

  “Huh…” Castor hummed. “Wouldn’t have pegged him for your type.”

  Radek sighed, sinking back into his seat. “I know, I know. He’s out of my league.”

  Slapping the other on the back, Castor laughed, “He’s pretty tall.” Radek sighed like a school girl in love, and Castor grinned. “You’re absolutely mooning over him.”

  “I dove for pearls for him,” Radek lamented, burying his face in his hands.

  Well, that wouldn’t work. Of the two of them, the red dragon stood better chances with his fated mate - insult aside, so Castor considered their options carefully. As he tapped his glass, his eyes caught upon one of his rings, and he grinned. Pushing the next pint of ale toward the pouting dragon, Castor took the ring which hid his scent from his finger, placing it on Radek’s left little finger. It quickly shrank to size.

  “In case that ale doesn’t disguise your scent well enough,” he explained.

  “What are you talking about?” the red dragon asked. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the ring, but he took the ale regardless.

  As focused as he was on the ring, the dragon didn’t see the push coming, and he stumbled, flailing with his ale exactly as Castor had hoped.

  “I’m so sorry!” Radek practically yelled.

  And wasn’t that interesting. Those black eyes traveled up and down the red dragon as the other pinched his shirt and said, “Don’t worry about it. It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

  Gaping, Radek gestured vaguely with the empty pint glass. “I-I...umm…”

  Idiot needed more help then. With a fond sigh, Castor pressed a key into Radek’s hand, and when the red dragon glanced back, Castor mouthed the room number.

/>   Thankfully, the idiot caught on and offered, “I have a room upstairs!”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Beautiful. At least one of them was getting a chance at happily ever after. Pouring another glass of whiskey, Castor frowned at his empty bottle. He gave up his room, and Radek wouldn’t be around. Dangerous times. Odds had him either drunkenly finding his way to a field to sleep - and desperately throwing himself at Nasi, or ending up tumbling into some stranger’s bed.

  Glancing up, Castor caught Radek’s eyes. The dragon looked terrified. His wide eyes begged for instruction, but the warlock chuckled, gesturing encouragement when the black-haired dragon wasn’t looking.

  After finishing his drink, the warlock wandered out of the bar and - as he had predicted - found his way to a field. He stumbled a bit before finding a comfortable place in the flowers to sleep. Almost immediately, he found himself lying on a warm chest, and clinging to his mate, he refused to move.

  “I love you,” he whispered into warm skin.

  “You’re drunk,” Nasi returned, and even as long skilled fingers slid through his hair, the gentle touch failed to subdue the ache in Castor’s chest.

  Pushing himself up, the warlock looked down into those quicksilver eyes which never failed to take his breath away. “Do you love me?”

  It was a terrible question. Nasi pinked, dodging the blond’s questioning gaze, and Castor’s stomach sank. Bound by fate and unloved. Suddenly, he had more sympathy than ever to Fannar’s mate. He always used to pity whoever was attached to that cold man, but in this moment, rejection and avoidance seemed all the worse. When calloused hands cupped his face, Castor swallowed a sob.

  “Castor, I don’t deserve to love you,” Nasi confessed, and from the sincerity of his gaze, the warlock saw the man truly meant the words. “My curse...it isn’t like the ones you’ve broken before. It would be better if you just forgot about me.”

  “Then you don’t love me…”

  With a sigh, Nasi pulled him close. “Gods, it would be easier if I didn’t love you so.”

  “Then if you love me, be with me,” the warlock insisted.

  But the other would not give. He begged so sweetly for all the wrong reasons. “Please, Castor, this will destroy you. You should find someone else - someone better for you. Please, give up on me.”

  His words continued, but Castor refused to listen. He clung and fell into the darkness where the alcohol pulled him. There was no pleasure here.

  Chapter Ten

  Castor came and left in sudden starts more often than not. Sometimes, he could sleep beside Athanasius without disappearing and wake back up within their dream meeting, and others he faded, leaving the black-haired man’s arms empty. Both left their own sort of ache in the demigod’s heart.

  When he cried, asking if Athanasius loved him, the black-haired man’s heart almost broke. Life would be simpler if he could have honestly said no, but the decades spent in conversation left no doubt within him that if he had ever loved anyone, he loved Castor. The blond lit up the world around him in a way no other had. He cared for everyone, throwing himself on the pyre again and again. Though he had less magic than others, he trained with such determination. How could Athanasius not long to spend the rest of his life at the warlock’s side?

  But the answer to his curse left the demigod uneasy in his own body. The warmth of Castor pressing him into the furs of his bed left him aching to spread his thighs and present himself like a bitch in heat. His own hole moistened with lubrication in the most perverse way, and ever since the warlock pressed a finger inside him, Athanasius couldn’t resist fucking himself on his own. Pride alone kept him from rutting the hilt of his sword or one of his daggers inside his greedy hole, but how could he show his shame to his fated mate. The other would be repulsed by the way his body transformed.

  “Can you think such thoughts when your father carries my children?” his stepfather had scolded when the demigod first learned of that side of the curse.

  Growling, Athanasius had hissed, “I am not my father.”

  “You look like him. A bit more of a brute, and he has none of the scars, but you’ll spread those thighs and beg to be bred just as prettily,” the god of spring had taunted, and how Athanasius had loathed him.

  If he had his human half-brother’s quick tongue, he might have accused his stepfather of wanting to view him as his godly father’s replacement, but drawing a god’s ire served no purpose, and the relief at the words would only be temporary, so he held his tongue. If nothing else, his stepfather was unerringly loyal to his godly father. The man saw no others in such a light, and no matter how similar their countenances, Athanasius would only be a shadow in comparison.

  Others might have carried children, but Athanasius lived as a weapon. If all the blood of the men he killed were to be a river, he would easily drown in it. He deserved no love. Deserved no family or children. Someone as sharp and cold as him could never soften as a mother ought to, and he had felt the coldness from his own mother. Felt the way she waited impatiently for him to be taken away to the underworld, and when that day failed to come - when his stepfather announced his removal from the line of inheritance on his godly father’s side, she had wept that her embarrassment would never be removed from her sight.

  “I love you,” the black-haired demigod whispered as Castor slept sprawled over his chest. “I wish we might have met in another life. I think...I think that was how we were meant to meet. Demigods can die and be reincarnated, can’t we? If I did not inherit a godhood, then I would have died like anyone else, and I might have been someone else. Someone worthy of you.”

  A soft snore came as his only response, and Athanasius resisted the urge to carve out his own heart. It served no purpose. No longer his human half-brother’s weapon, he served no purpose here.

  Chapter Eleven

  With a bottle of whiskey at his elbow and a half-drunk glass in his left hand, Castor drummed his fingers on the bar’s counter. Radek looked a mess again. After so many days wooing the black dragon, he stared down in his ale as if it might explode.

  “What’s got you in such a fine mood?” Castor demanded, downing the dredges of his glass before pouring another.

  “I think he’s in love with me,” Radek confessed, and his cheeks flushed. The lucky bastard.

  Castor hummed, pouring himself another drink as cruelty moved his tongue. “So you’ve told him you're a dragon then?” When the dragon took a gulp of his drink instead of answering, Castor huffed, “I take that as a no.”

  “What if he hates me?” Radek whispered.

  “If it is fate, it will be,” the warlock retorted.

  “That’s not enough. He doesn’t trust his own senses. Fated or not, he would refuse me if he thinks it the better choice,” Radek insisted. “What would you do in my place?”

  With a laugh, Castor shook his head. Radek could never understand. He struggled so little for his love, yet he was depressed? “I have dreamt of my fated love since I was a boy. We shared such violent dreams at first. They’re older than I am. A warrior through and through, and those first dreams of blood and death haunted me, but I fell for them at their darkest, and when I learned of the curse upon them...I adored them for the strength with which they reached for me.”

  The red dragon pouted. “That hardly answers the question.”

  “It answers it enough,” Castor proclaimed, slamming down his glass. “Over this whole damn world, I’ve hunted for them. Cured prince after prince - knight after knight - king after king. How many happy endings have I created? How many lovers have I reunited? Countless. Countless yet my heart wanes. He suffers.” Hand knotting in his shirt over his heart, the warlock sobbed, “Last night, we dreamed together. Our bodies entwined, and the heat of him leaking into my skin before he begged me again to leave him - abandon him to his cursed fate because his heart ached at my suffering. As if I could leave him? He is my fate. In your shoes, I would fight. If he stood before me, I would la
y myself low and cut out my own heart.”

  Reaching out, Radek laid a hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “We will find him.”

  But Castor only shook his head. “He’s keeping something from me.”

  “Whatever it is, you can confront him when we find him,” the red dragon assured, but tears gathered in the warlock’s eyes.

  “I can feel it. He knows how to break the curse, but he won’t tell me. If I knew how it could be broken, I could work backwards. I could know how he had been cursed!” Castor cried, burying his face in his hands. “What has him so terrified?”

  Radek patted Castor on the back. “It’s good you’re getting this out before you find that idiot. You’re the ugliest crier.”

  With a huff half-way between a sob and a laugh, Castor purposefully smeared the mess on his face into the dragon’s shoulder. “Ass.”

  “Hardly new news.”

  Pulling back to glare, Castor swallowed though tears still poured down his cheeks. “The best of asses.”

  “I like to think so,” Radek agreed.

  “Maybe we should ignore fate and pick each other. It would certainly involve less heartache,” the warlock murmured.

  Radek tilted his head, offering a sad smile. “I don’t think our preferences are compatible unless you’ve decided -”

  “No.” Castor pulled back, wiping away his tears with a slight hollow chuckle. “We’re as incompatible as ever.”

  Ruffling the other’s straw blond hair, Radek sighed. “Plus side, you know him. We can work backwards and narrow the list of curses to be ones you think he wouldn’t think worth the cure.”

  “He never seemed afraid of anything. It’s strange to imagine,” the warlock stated, swiveling in his seat to lean back against the bar and stare out as the regular evening crowd enjoyed their dinners and drinks.

  “Any curses that might kill you?”

  Shaking his head, Castor lowered his eyes to his left hand, shifting it back and forth as if to watch the red string of fate twist and twine from his skin into the mist the curse laid between them. “Death never worried him. Mine or his.” With a smile, he met the red dragon’s eyes. “I used to think he might be a necromancer.”