Rebel Warlock's Wizard Mate: M/M Gay Fantasy Romance

by J B Black

  In the entrance hall, stone knights stared down, and the portraits huffed, moving about just like they had in William’s favorite childhood book series. Half the magic came from wizards experimenting, and not everything in the keep was as old as it appeared. Somewhere inside, a library existed in which the only surviving knowledge spirit dwelled. Though the spirit rarely showed itself to students, it was known to be unable to stop itself from correcting mistakes, and while wizards weren’t keen to taunt the spirit and bring it out that way, William couldn’t help but consider attempting it.

  “You’ve been assigned your own room due to your status as a warlock.” Workneh sighed, glancing at William out of the corner of his eye. “You make it rather difficult, you know, being able to sire and conceive. More than one lecturer brought up concerns if we were to assign you to a room with another male student.”

  William fought the urge to scoff at that statement. He’d been warned wizards would think him promiscuous even though many warlocks — himself included — had no desire to be with anyone except his fated mate. “Couldn’t you just ward the entire castle to prevent pregnancies?”

  “Wizards are not as…” the wizard frowned, struggling to find the right phrasing. “To put it simply, we aren’t as fertile, and often, any child conceived in this castle is the only child a pair might have.”

  This time, William couldn’t help but huff. They wanted to encourage the wizards to mate, but the professors feared sullying the wizarding lines with warlock blood. Wizards were old-fashioned in that a pregnancy would undoubtedly result in a marriage, but William had no intention of getting distracted.

  “I’m here to study,” William assured the wizard.

  Workneh nodded, humming softly as he led William up into the tower where the first year students stay. “You’ll find many of the students here might be interested in studying you.”

  Rolling his eyes, William refused to be cowed. “Perfect — then it will be all the easier to outscore them in class.”

  “Good,” the wizard said with a small smile. He unlocked a door, handing the warlock a small bronze key. “Here is your room. There is a map of the castle on the desk. I suggest you memorize it before your first day of classes.”

  The room was simple. A bed stood up against the far corner with a window beside it. To the right of the door, the desk sat. With an empty bookshelf and a wardrobe as the only other furniture in the room, it offered less space than William wanted for alchemy practice.

  “Is there a way to reserve room in the alchemy labs?” the warlock asked.

  Eyes narrowing, Workneh tilted his head. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s either work in a sealed area in case of backfires, or form a warded side dimension in the back of my wardrobe to make sure that there isn’t any risk of damaging my room while practicing,” William explained, gesturing toward the furniture in question.

  “No.” Workneh shook his head, stepping back. “No alchemy in your room. No side dimensions in the wardrobe. Alchemy is extremely volatile. Until your third year, you are not to practice alone outside of open laboratory hours.” Before William could protest, the wizard added, “Good night.”

  Closing the door, William crossed his arms over his chest. For now, he would listen to the rules, but his eyes scanned the strength of the wardrobe, thinking about the runes he would need to make a side dimension within. He had a talent for those bubbles. It was simply a larger concept of his infinite bag. With any luck, the warlock wouldn’t need the extra practice, but wizards had a habit of nepotism. Every single other student would have the benefit of their families, and the alchemy course was notorious for wealthy wizards who were only children in families who were alchemists as far back as records could tell.

  Setting his bag upon the desk, he picked up the map. “Well...time to get to work.”

  ***

  Waking to an actual cockatrice crowing somewhere in the castle proved strange, but the stranger moment came when a choir of bells joined the obnoxiously loud bird. Rolling over in bed, William glared at the sun which glowed unencumbered through his bedroom window. He had another week before classes started, but if he wanted to show his ability to conform to the standards wizards set for themselves and their pupils, the warlock needed to begin and end his days the way they did. At least, he ought to make a show of doing so publicly even if he eventually did turn his wardrobe into a bubble dimension.

  Gathering his supplies, William studied the map, locating the public baths. The castle had no electricity. Magic worked the plumbing, and each tower shared a room of baths which functioned much like hot springs. Luckily for William — or perhaps purposeful if Wizard Workneh’s words from the night before carried to concerns here as well — the baths were directly across from his room. Grabbing his supplies, he crossed the hall in his bathrobe — a fluffy ice blue. His keen gray eyes glanced about when he stepped into the baths, but no one else was there.

  “Fair enough,” he murmured.

  Many might have selected to go down to the dining hall first, but after having gone straight to bed upon arrival, William desperately wanted to scrub the day of traveling from his skin. Chucking his bathrobe on the hook, he set his supplies inhaled the woodsy scent that permeated the room. Cedar and pine curled about his nose. At once, it put him at ease. Dark smooth stone lined the room from floor to ceiling. Four baths were built into the floor, allowing individuals to wash separately, but a fifth larger bath sat at the far back wall. Slightly cooler in temperature than the rest, it seemed to be where the students would soak after washing themselves clean. A place to shoot the breeze.

  Scrubbing his dark hair, he dunked his head beneath the water, luxuriating in the warmth as he scrubbed the grime of travel from his skin. When he was almost done, the door opened, and two wizards walked in, talking to one another, but whatever their conversation had been, it stopped immediately as the one on the left with mousy brown hair noticed William and elbowed the other with a pinched nose and a pompadour of copper tresses.

  “And who -” the copper-haired man demanded with a judgment up and down of his eyes over William’s naked form, “ — are you?”

  The mousy friend rushed to speak before William could. “He’s that warlock!”

  Immediately, the judgmental sneer shifted, tightening, but the mousy friend cocked his hips as if trying to draw the warlock’s eyes to his cock while his copper-haired companion glared, squinting at William as if questioning whether or not William served as a speck of dirt on an otherwise flawless bleached white surface. If he were one to place his worth in the hands of others, the wizard’s extreme disgust might have struck him harder. Instead, it left William yearning to strike the wizards down.

  “A warlock? In Aelion? You’re awfully brave,” the red-haired wizard said undeterred by William’s disinterest or his friend’s less than subtle flirtation. “And if you’re here, you must be taking the alchemy coursework. Not many wizards manage to pass. You should be proud you even managed to get in.” He glanced with muddy brown eyes at his friend. “Not that you’ll be staying long.”

  Running his hands through his dark hair, William shifted to face the pair, putting his pale skin and lean form fully on display. Both wizards were wiry. Neither had much meat on their bones, and their narrow shoulders made his own form look positively athletic in comparison. When he raised a knee and tilted his head, both swallowed audibly, tracing droplets from his hair down his long neck and broad shoulders to the water’s surface and his clearly soft cock which the water’s steamy surface did little to hide from their lustful gaze.

  “I’d ask your names, but I’m not interested in learning them. You don’t strike me as the type to be worth knowing,” William informed them as he feigned cleaning his nails.

  Sputtering, the mousy-haired bow squeaked. “How dare you! Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

  “No — and as I said, I don’t care to know.”

  Licking his dry lips, the brown
-haired wizard gestured to his friend. “This is Gilroy Radcliffe! The heir to the title of Lord of Ashwood Hall and heir to the Radcliffe fortune! His father Charles Radcliffe revolutionized medical wizardry!”

  “Huh...so does that bring medical wizardry to the 18th century?” William drawled.

  Turning bright red, Gilroy glared down at the warlock. “My family is responsible for the modern treatment of a number of magical maladies!”

  “And yet, you’re in the alchemy course,” William pointed out. “Which means you either have no talent for healing or the Radcliffe’s aren’t as rich as they’d like the rest of the wizarding communities to believe.”

  Though the mousy friend gasped, his pale blue eyes sparked as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, and he eyed his friend with a new curiosity. Good. The best way to undermine men like Gilroy Radcliffe was to take out the supports in their yes-men foundation of confidence.

  Shaking his head, William offered the brown-haired wizard a soft smile. “Anyway, that’s him out the way. Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

  When the wizard opened his mouth to speak, Gilroy turned upon his heels and said, “Come along, Timothy! We’ll enjoy the baths once they’ve been properly cleaned. It would be awful to catch something from that filthy creature.”

  Holding back a laugh, William offered the wizards a small wave as he called, “See you later, Timothy.”

  Chances were Gilroy had enough sense to quickly spin his mock flirtation into a sign of weakness. People like him — if they were even the least bit intelligent — knew how to undermine any source of outward interest shown to their henchmen, and if Gilroy wanted to keep Timothy in line, he had to show the other wizard that either William’s attention wasn’t worth having or that it was dangerous to have. Either way, the blush on Timothy’s face amused the warlock almost as much as the scowl on Gilroy’s.

  However, as the pair stormed out, another wizard walked in, dodging Gilroy’s furious march with wide eyes. Neither of the two acknowledged this third wizard, and Timothy’s lip curled upon seeing him — which made little sense to the warlock. This one was at least something worth looking at. He wore loose pants and a loose shirt with bare feet and a bag over one shoulder. His muscular arms drew the warlock’s gaze. The corded muscle matched the sort William had seen on a baker’s son once. They were the arms of someone who kneaded bread frequently, making his forearms fall easily into the top five hottest William had ever seen, and the rest of him wasn’t too bad either.

  Taller than Gilroy — who had looked at least William’s own height — the man had straw blond hair. Pale and straight in the way it fell about his tanned face. Broad shoulders carried his muscular frame, leading as he walked despite the strength in his round bottom and thick thighs. Those were the legs of a man who could hold another up against a wall and fuck him silly.

  Clearing his throat, William shifted, willing his cock to ignore the path his mind went as he spun around to lean against the edge of the bath, debating whether he could cross to his robe without the other seeing his interest. Before he could make the decision, the wizard sighed, drawing William’s eyes as the shirt and pants were removed, folded, and carefully set aside.

  The man couldn’t be a wizard. He looked like a Greek demigod come to life — bronze and bright eyed and unfairly handsome. His large hands ran through his thick blond hair, and the lines of his muscles drew William’s eyes right to his crotch where his flaccid cock hung with a thickness and length that left the warlock’s clenching and inwardly cursing as he groaned and set his forehead against the cool stone.

  “Are you alright?” the other man called, and his lilting accent wasn’t the same as Gilroy or Timothy. The others had sounded annoyingly nasally with an innate bored drawl, but this wizard’s speech seemed to dance.

  Inhaling slowly, William willed himself to calm as he offered the man a slight wave. “I’m good.”

  Humming, the wizard descended into the water on the side closest to William’s bath, and as he settled in the water, he said, “I’m Ælfweard, by the way.”

  Lust forgotten out of bemusement, the warlock spun to face the wizard. “Elf-ward?”

  “Ælfweard,” the wizard corrected, frowning slightly. Ducking his head, he sighed. “It’s a bit old-fashioned, but it’s a family name.”

  Murmuring the names a few times to memorize the pronunciation, William shrugged. “I’ve heard weirder.”

  The slight smile Ælfweard offered him made his heart skip a beat, and when those corded arms crossed over the broad, perfectly tan muscular chest, William ached to be the sort of confident being of sensuality which the wizards expected of him. He could easily fake it. Kept to their communities, wizards were the sort to find an exposed ankle sexy, so naked as he was, just canting his hips would’ve been a scandal to some. Unlike mortals, they knew what he was. They knew what fucking him could lead to, and the weight of that settled strangely in the warlock’s stomach as he stared at Ælfweard’s soft smile.

  “And what about you?” the blond wizard asked.

  William scoffed, rolling his eyes. “As if you don’t know.”

  “Just because I know it doesn’t mean it is polite not to introduce yourself,” Ælfweard teased.

  Rolling his eyes, the warlock couldn’t help but smile. “William. My name’s William.”

  “Well, William, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  If their conversation had only ended there, William might have left the baths with his first friend and crush. Not once through their small conversation had Ælfweard trailed his eyes lower than the warlock’s face, and the bounce between William’s eyes and lips suggested it hadn’t even been forced. After the clear sexualization by Gilroy and Timothy, Ælfweard offered a wonderful contrast. Even if it caused William to feel a bit guilty he hadn’t returned the favor.

  But after dunking beneath the water and rising once more, Ælfweard turned his back to the warlock as he told him, “You shouldn’t tease the other students.”

  William blinked, caught off guard as his eyes had enjoyed the shifting muscles of the other man’s back. “What?”

  “Timothy and Gilroy,” Ælfweard said, sudsing up the soap in hands and scrubbing as he continued, “Most wizards aren’t used to meeting anyone outside the community. If you just ignore them, they’ll get over the novelty quicker.”

  “So what? You expect me to put up with being ogled?” William asked though in his mind, there was only one correct answer.

  The blond shrugged. “You didn’t seem to shy away from it.”

  Scoffing, William jumped out of the bath, storming over to his clothes. A spell sent the vapor from his skin, and with a spin, he stood fully dressed. “Excuse me for not being ashamed of my body or scared of those assholes to the point of trying to cover up!” Tossing the door opened, he spat, “Fucking wizards.”

  Chapter Four

  When Ælfweard arrived at Aelion Academy, the whole school chattered with excitement, but being the only one from his town who had been accepted, the blond wizard hadn’t learned exactly what had them all on the edges of their seats until a group of third years discovered him in the library.

  “You’re a first year in alchemy, aren’t you?” a wizard who Ælfweard recognized as Nicholas Blythe asked.

  As the third year was Workneh’s current protege, Ælfweard had no desire to get on his bad side despite finding the other to be overbearing and arrogant in all of their prior meetings, so he had answered a simple, “Yes.”

  The group chortled, and another who Ælfweard recognized as Malcolm Henwaurst told him, “Lucky bastard, you’ll get to share the dorms with a warlock!”

  “He’s not sharing a dorm,” Nicholas huffed, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “Workneh said they’ve given the warlock his own room. They don’t want to risk some idiot contaminating his line when he thinks he’s just enjoying a bit of buggery.”

  Malcolm guffawed. “If warlo
cks are as hot as the witches I’ve seen, I don’t think I’d mind.”

  “What? You want to breed a pretty little bastard?” another of the group — Thaddeus Grimhold — taunted his friend, but the look on all their faces suggested none of them would particularly mind the act.

  Nicholas released a put upon sigh as if he were terribly embarrassed by his friends. “Ignore these imbeciles, first year, everyone knows bedding a warlock is as good as a guaranteed expulsion, and they’ve got spells to prove parentage, so anyone who decides to risk getting their cock wet in hopes of no consequences will find themselves in hard straits.”

  Ælfweard hadn’t been worried. His purpose at the school had nothing to do with this warlock, and he had no intention of risking his desire to become Workneh’s pick from the first years. He intended to keep his head down, work hard, and not make any enemies. If Nicholas wanted to pretend they had never met when Ælfweard’s father happened to be Ælfweard’s mother’s cousin, the blond would play along. Instead, Ælfweard would take the warning for what it was. His second cousin had effectively warned him away from the warlock, and if Nicholas wanted him to pretend he cared, he would offer him a nod, hoping the group would leave him to his studies.

  He wasn’t so lucky.

  “If you’re a first year, why are you here so early?” Thaddeus asked, frowning down at Ælfweard.

  Malcolm tilted his head. “Yeah — I don’t remember seeing you in the underclasses, and only those students are generally around this early.”

  “And foreign students,” Thaddeus added.

  Opening his mouth to speak, Ælfweard found himself caught off guard by Nicholas laughing once again. “Are you both deaf? He’s obviously from one of those ragtag Irish towns.”