The Toad Prince

Chapter Thirteen

After she’d bathed, Nadaria wandered the castle again, not sure where Sorin or anyone else had gone. Even Roux had elected to stay behind, curling up in front of the fireplace for a nap.

Nicoleta had taken her clothes, promising to mend them, and sew her some more undergarments since she only had one bra and one pair of underwear. The maid had also helped her find another outfit, a long white dress made of thick cotton with beautiful royal blue floral embroidery, and a blue scarf that cinched at the waist.

Nadaria still had Dumitra’s key, but so far the only door she’d found locked was the one with the music box and the baby bassinet.

She felt drawn to a room and opened it, gasping in delight as the candles lit themselves and illuminated the space. It was like a time capsule for the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Random things were spread about with no semblance of organization. A lightbulb, a baseball, and an old ballpoint pen. She went to it and saw that Sorin had written his name several times on a piece of paper with it. Nadaria could imagine his face of wonder as he did and giggled.

There were stacks of newspapers, one per year, detailing the events of the world on that particular day outside this prison. She saw ones from the twenty-first century piled closest, with one from the day he brought her here placed neatly on top.

The other stacks grew older and yellower with age. She saw one that read, TREATY SIGNED; WAR OVER, dated June 1919.

“Wow,” she whispered, looking at everything from an antique lamp to a brand new tablet.

Something caught her eye, covered by a sheet, and she recognized the shape before she even had it off.

A portable hand-crank record player. And it looked like he’d gained new records as time went on. He had everything from Elvis to Michael Jackson to The Eagles and beyond. Nadaria laughed, imagining him in here listening to these.

This room wasn’t as dusty as some others, so Sorin must spend time here. Or maybe someone else. Maybe they all came here to see the inventions of the world they never got to live in.

She dug around in the vinyl records and spotted one she had loved fiercely when it came out. Led Zeppelin IV, 1971. What a time to be alive.

Nadaria had used a hand crank gramophone before, and this one seemed pretty par for the course. She placed the vinyl down and cranked the handle. When she moved the arm, she saw there was no steel needle in place.

These things all had little hidden compartments on them for the needles, so she started looking. Nadaria was so determined and focused that she nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand reached around her, and opened a small compartment on the corner of the box, revealing the needles.

Sorin’s other hand fell on her waist, and his chest molded to her back.

“Are you snooping, bubblegum witch?”

His lips were so close to her ear that she shuddered as she answered, “Maybe. I can’t believe you have all of this.”

“I would leave once a year, and the world would change so much. I brought back anything I could get my hands on. This player is one of my favorites. In the late twentieth century, people were practically giving these records away, and that’s when I acquired most of them.”

“I have so many questions. How did you get the United States to find me? Why didn’t you tell people about what’s happening here? Other witches?”

“I always ride Boian to the nearest town. There’s an old witch there that has helped me before. She won’t come here, but she connected me to the ones before you. She is the one who heard about a young witch in the States that might care enough to help a vampire, and brought me to you.”

“How many others have been here and tried to break this?”

He paused and then sighed. “Only two.”

“You said several.”

“I exaggerated a little. Believe it or not, it is difficult to convince anyone to come to a Transylvanian castle inhabited by a dozen vampires. And it seems the outside world forgot we existed the day the curse was enacted. No one ever came looking.”

“And the witches just what? Spontaneously combusted when they tried to break the curse?”

“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what happened. That’s why I told you to stay on the balcony and watch.”

She furrowed her brow, suspicious. This curse acted like nothing she’d ever seen. It shouldn’t be able to… attack people outside of it. Especially if they were halfway competent and had protected themselves. Was it because they couldn’t use their magic?

“And these witches? They were good at the craft?”

“I assume so. The second one volunteered, saying she could break any hex. Almost arrogant about it. They were both older than you.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Sorin reached around her, embracing her as he set the steel needle in its place, and cranked the player again. Nadaria watched his sure hands, and it was obvious he did this often. Her eyes drifted to the tattoo on his wrist, and her heart danced. She had to trust the Goddess. She had to trust fate. This was where she needed to be. She felt it.

She was supposed to be here. Right here, with his hard body pressed against her back.

Her body was suddenly needy, the hot coil of desire twisting to life in her core, and throbbing with intention. Nadaria pushed back against him, and he sighed softly, setting the needle. The familiar scratch, then the blank space of silence, followed by the intro of Black Dog.

Sorin chuckled. “A rock and roll girl, huh?”

“It was a good decade.”

“Well, it had good music, that’s all I know.”

His voice was breathy against her ear, and he kissed her cheek.

“You are killing me in this dress, you know?”

And she was. It was traditional wear from the old days. He didn’t recognize it as Crina’s, and he thought it must be his mother’s, tucked back in a closet somewhere by his father after she died bringing Sorin into this world.

He wrapped his arms around Nadaria and squeezed her back into him so their bodies were flush. His hands covered her breasts through the loose fabric and kneaded them. Her body trembled with need. With desperate want. The throb in her core tightened, taking her breath, and she pushed her hips back into him. The cotton dress and his linen pants did little to conceal how hard he was, and she moaned, turning to face him.

His eyes burned with the ember of desire, and she fisted the material of his shirt in her hands. Their lips met, a soft moan passing between them. She wrapped her arms around him, and held on, shaky but determined.

Sorin was lost to her, done worrying and controlling and fretting. He wanted her pleasure, and he would have it. The way she trembled for him was maddening, and he pulled at the string that held the top of the bodice together and ripped the top of the material down.

But then he was done with that, too. He just wanted the whole thing off.

The kiss never stopped, their tongues dueling in a frenzy of heat as he pulled at the knot of the scarf, and it pooled at their feet on the floor.

Nadaria wasn’t exactly expecting what came next, when in one motion he gripped the skirt of the dress and pulled the whole thing off over her head. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Sorin stared at her and groaned deep in his chest. She was naked, nothing underneath the dress. If it weren’t for the curse, he would probably be dead just from the sight of her.

“f*****g gods woman. Look at you.”

He stepped forward, both hands slapping her backside in a punishing grip as he lifted her, sliding the record player back so she could sit on the table. The music skipped and then picked up again.

Nadaria’s heart was stuttering, beating so fast her brain was tripping to keep up. But he had no intention of slowing down, pressing his lips to her until she leaned back far enough she had to prop herself on her elbows.

He moved down, and she was stunned when he nipped at the tendon of her neck. Her heart clenched, but his control was beyond impressive, and he moved past without biting her. His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere, and her breath was labored as she watched him worship her breasts in a way no man ever had.

He gripped her backside and slammed his hips forward into her.

She cried out, desperate for more, and pleaded his name. “Sorin…”

His eyes whipped up to her. “You want more?”

Her eyes widened. Well, duh. “Yes.”

He shifted more of his weight to her, grinding his hips forward. The friction of his pants amplified her pleasure and ensured his own torture.

“More from me? A vampire?” he drawled, teasing her.

“Never thought… I’d be saying yes to that,” she said with a breathless laugh.

“But you are?”

She moaned, digging her nails into the back of his neck. “Yes.”

“Well, thank f**k for that,” he said, moaning and slipping his hand between them.

His finger slid up the slit of her core, and he pushed out a shaking breath. Wet and slick and wanting. Sorin almost hated the tattoo and the bond, because without it, he could just f**k her now and not have to worry about fating her forever to a piece of s**t like him.

He swirled his thumb around her swollen bundle of nerves, and Nadaria moaned and whimpered at the delicious torture.

“More than that?” he asked.

She moaned, then whispered, “You are wicked,” and spread her legs wider for him.

He bit his lip, groaning low in his chest and leaning back to watch himself slip a finger inside her wet heat. His heart was like a lead weight, thumping hard in his chest at how tight she was.

She moaned his name like a prayer, begging him, and he couldn’t play games anymore. He slipped another finger inside, and her inner walls squeezed him in the most maddening way. His c**k throbbed at the thought of shoving inside her, and feeling her writhe beneath him.

Sorin was well versed in the body of a woman, and curled those fingers, swirling his thumb at the same time on that sensitive little bud.

Nadaria’s eyes flew open, a startled whining moan ripping through her chest. Pulses of electric sensation washed through her, searing her veins with heat and curling her toes. What the? She did not expect this from him. Not at all.

“Am I remembering okay?” he drawled, smirking.

She whimpered and moaned, lifting her hips to him as he continued the heady assault. Sorin was focused on his goal, plunging and curling his fingers, and using his thumb to work her. She became incoherent and tried to grab his nape and kiss him again.

He gave her a swift kiss, but pulled back. Her flushed, writhing form was too captivating to miss, and he watched her beautiful face as her eyes squeezed shut, and her body bowed with tension.

Nadaria was swinging between pleasure and desperate need, wanting more, and more being too much all at the same time. Her body arched tight, and she threw her head back. She heard him moan, loud, saying her name, and it was too much. Her body clenched, the coil of pleasure in her core unraveling all at once and soaring through her in an explosion of ecstasy.

When she finished, she was clinging to him, and he cradled her to his body. His breath was shallow and quick, and she heard a soft chuckle rumble in his chest.

“Not bad for an old man, yeah?”

“I didn’t know you’d taken that so personally,” she muttered, still a little stunned at what had just happened.

The record had stopped, and it was silent aside from their gasping breaths.

“Well, I did.”

She smiled up at him, and he ran his thumb over her cheekbone. The tender, unexpected caress made her heart pinch.

“Well, I can’t say I’m sorry for saying it.”

“Neither am I,” he said, grinning and scooping the dress up off of the floor. “But you should probably put clothes back on. There were several times I was sure I was just going to fill you with my c**k instead of my fingers, and I’m still struggling with the decision.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and heat flooded her face and her body.

Goddess, help her.

Sorin unleashed was much naughtier than she’d been expecting, and she was still a little shocked at how quickly she’d gone from clothed to naked. She slipped the dress over her head, and secured the tie at the front.

He was watching, his eyes sharp with predatory lust. “Is this a common habit of yours? To wear no undergarments? Very naughty. I was a little shocked, if I’m being honest.”

“No, it’s not,” she sputtered, blushing deeper until the tips of her ears burned. “I didn’t have any to wear.”

Sorin clicked his tongue and grinned. “Hm. Lucky for me." He pressed a swift kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you at dinner. You can look at whatever you want in here.”

When he was in the door, she blurted, “Well, where are you going?”

He chuckled, and it was so mischievous her heart fluttered. Looking over his shoulder with the most sinful smirk she’d ever witnessed, he said, “To my room, where I’m going to remember this interaction in great detail.”

Her eyebrows lifted over wide eyes, and she watched the door swing closed behind him. Apparently, the curse wasn’t the only thing with many layers that she needed to unravel.