Overlord Mare Novels & Stories

"Moving back to the City, so they told me." Jenny walks across, then around the pen, eyeing the mare from all sides. She is a lovely bay roan, with mane, tail and lower legs all in a glossy black and her face a shade of copper heading for pink. "She has a pretty face," says Jenny. "So she does," says Mrs Collier. "Take her round then, Riley." The Irishman gives a nod to the stable lad who clips on the lead-rein, takes her to the ring and with a click of the tongue, first trots the mare, then paces her.

The light funneled downward in a blinding column, slamming directly into Rebel’s chest. A voice filled the clearing. Ancient. Feminine. Absolute. It vibrated through bone and soul alike, leaving no room for doubt. “BORN OF MOON AND MAGIC. CHILD OF TWO CROWNS. THE FIRST HYBRID. THE BRINGER OF BALANCE. THE TRUE HEIR.” Rebel threw her head back as power surged through her—violent, divine, overwhelming. Green flames erupted along her fur. Silver lightning split the earth beneath her paws. The sky cracked open with a deafening thunderclap.

And for all his good will, both mares suffered for it. Kilvic waved a frantic hand as the carriage arrived. He knew the moment the mares noticed him. Like most of their demon kind which were only used by the military forces in each kingdom, their attention was shown in the direction of their ears. It was a while before Tivltet, who sat at the front of his carriage with reins in hand, took notice of him. Kilvic made eye contact with the mares who seemed to regard him as if contemplating how much of a threat he would be before the peddler pulled them to a stop.

The stallion responded instantly, building raw velocity with every continuous stride. I leaned my upper body forward, my thighs gripping his muscular sides with deep memory, feeling the exhilarating, raw power of the beast churning beneath my seat. By the ancestors, my inner wolf had starved for this exact feeling—the pure speed, the absolute autonomy, the rush of navigating a territory at full tilt. Once Patch's athletic metrics were fully satisfied, Sebastian guided a gorgeous chestnut mare out from the primary training paddock. "Grandmother recently integrated her into the estate line," he explained, keeping his distance careful and respectful. "An exceptionally gentle temperament. Perfec

Corinne held herself back from laughing out loud, when the horse leaned even further into the stall, causing the others around to neigh, wanting some attention too “I wonder if I would be allowed into the kitchen to…” A loud, angry neigh interrupted her words, causing the previously calm horses to cower and retreat into their small homes, frightened. Worried about what could be happening to a horse to make it make that sound, Corinne ran in its direction, although it wasn't difficult to find where she should go, even though it was at the back of the stable. It would be difficult not to notice the wood of one of the stalls trembling and almost bending as some animal threw itself against it, m

I can hear bones breaking and begin to become anxious at who we are dealing with. “I am afraid all that will fit me is the shirt,” says a female voice. We turn to find a woman, maybe in her late forties standing before us in an oversized shirt. “Who is your Alpha,” I ask. “I am,” the woman responds. I know I must have a shocked look on my face as she laughs. “Horses are led by an Alpha Mare. My son is the stallion of the herd and is watching over us to protect us, he is refusing to shift right now in case of danger.”

The doubt. Ronan continued, "For too long, our bloodline has remained unchanged. Pure, yes. Strong, yes. But purity without evolution is stagnation!" He paced the platform like a caged wolf, feeding off the crowd's energy. "I have brought us a new mare. A half-blood whose veins carry the blood of two packs—the weak Turkish Bozkurt line and a forgotten American lineage." Mare. He called me a mare. Like I was a horse to be bred.

He looked curiously over the open green hills that faded into a clean forest toward the edges and at the horses grazing contentedly in the fields. The horses were Marsh Tackies, a rare breed specific to Carolina, closely related to the Banker Horse of the Outer Banks, as they are also descendants of the Colonial Spanish horses brought to America. They were Mauricio’s pride, feeling a close connection to them as both of their roots were bound to Spain. Richard pulled into the circular driveway and entered through the front door, finding his Uncle Edward relaxing on the back lanai. Edward stood up and embraced him, then settled back into his chair as Richard took a seat on the love seat adjace

Prancing, she jerked now and again but was far more cooperative then Zier would’ve expected. Seeming far more docile than she’d been before. Almost as if she’s remorseful for nearly breaking Lucas’ face. But he dismissed the idiocy of that thought. He and his warrior, Barnabus, led their mounts on opposite sides of the mare. Keeping her secure between them. Zier cautioned his men to keep their distance, unwilling to explain the overwhelming emotions he’d felt near her. There’s something wrong with it. It’s powerful. Remaining calm the hours it took to walk to The Netherlands, the mare suddenly began to shy violently when the castle came into view.

Waved politely as I stood in front of Pepper. The blood-bay-colored mare snorted at me. I cocked my head to one side, staring her down. When Maverick had ridden on her she had given Perdy hell. Bucking. Biting. Even kicking at him. He hadn't been joking when he said she was warmblooded. But I had found a new footing in this world. Became someone else. Conquered some of the demons that had haunted me, like food. I would conquer her as well.