The Toad Prince

Chapter Fifteen

Nadaria had separated and organized the oils and herbs she’d taken from the healer’s hut. Many had broken, but some survived, including rosemary oil. An idea struck her, and she rubbed some of the oil, to provide clarity, on a white candle.

Lighting it on the desk, she stared at the flame, watching it flicker. Roux curled around the base of the candle, offering his help.

The incantation was simple:

“By this burning light

Come to me, my second sight

As this charm is now spoken

Let my psychic mind be open.”

Nadaria closed her eyes, focusing and manifesting the truth. She stayed there for a half an hour or more until the small candle burned lower than the dabbed on rosemary oil.

“So mote it be,” she whispered, and blew out the flame.

She wasn’t even sure it would work considering the anti-magic ward, but it was always worth a try. Nadaria fell asleep, wishing for a dream.

And she got one.

She dreamed she was a purple lily, floating in a pond. Around her sat twelve toads. Eleven of them were green and brown, and one was a deep, shining black. One toad drew her, and she wanted to move to him, but she couldn’t.

Next to the toad she desired, the black one watched her with malice. Its beady eyes glared at her, a deep hatred seeded there. As a foreboding feeling crawled through her body, disembodied fingers started floating to the surface around her, bobbing in the soft movements of the water.

Without warning, the black toad leapt at her, and she was only a lily, so she couldn’t escape—

Nadaria sat up, sucking in a sharp breath. Her forehead was wet with sweat, and she looked around her room. Hair rose all over her body, and she felt like someone was here. Roux was on her chest, and hissed at the balcony doors. Her eyes snapped that way just in time to catch the disappearing figure of a person leaping from her balcony.

Gasping, she threw her blankets off and ran, throwing the doors open. Out in the quiet night air, she searched the grounds of the old gardens below. Down, crossing the bridge, a tall wiry figure scurried to the back garden area.

Only one person here was that tall and thin.

Aurelian.

The next morning, she searched for Sorin, and through intuition, she found him staring at a wall of books in a plush study.

He stood when she entered. “Nadaria. Is everything okay?”

“Where’s Aurelian?”

“I don’t know. Around somewhere. Why?”

She narrowed her eyes and locked the door behind her. “I need to question him.”

His eyebrows lifted, and he chuckled. “Question him? About what?”

“He was on my balcony last night.”

Sorin scoffed, and his brows knitted together. “No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t… do that. Why would anyone do that?”

“That’s why I need to question him.”

“Okay. Can I be present for this interrogation?”

“I don’t care. Sure.”

“You’re positive someone was out there?”

“Of course. Roux saw them, too.”

Roux lifted his head and hissed, then flicked his tongue.

The knit of Sorin’s eyebrows deepened, and he frowned. He walked around his desk to her, concerned, and rubbed her upper arms. “Well, that is unacceptable. Are you okay?”

She looked up at him and swallowed, determined to keep her serious demeanor when she just wanted to kiss him. “Yes, I am okay. I just want to know what in the flaming river of hell he thinks he’s doing creeping around on my balcony.”

“I just can’t believe Aurelian would do that.” Her eyes narrowed, and she frowned. Sorin backtracked, his hands drifting like they wanted to cover his groin. He ended up with them in a surrender gesture, saying, “I believe you. I definitely believe you… I just. It’s not like him.”

Nadaria smirked at his scrambling, and he relaxed, stepping forward again. She gave in and slid her hands over his shoulders, lacing her fingers at his nape.

He was surprised, having still convinced himself she wouldn’t want anything to do with him after what he told her over dinner. His hands clasped her waist and pulled her close, molding their bodies together.

Nadaria bit her lip to hold back a breathy moan. Her body sought more contact, not soon to forget what his skilled hands could do—had done—to her, and she pressed against him.

His eyes fell to her lips and a soft groan rumbled in his chest. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Bite your lip like that.”

“Why?”

“Because then I want to do it when I watch you.”

She smiled, playing coy, and did it again, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

His eyes flashed, and his face dropped to hers as the grip he had on her waist cinched tighter. But his lips didn’t find hers. Instead they drifted and ran the soft, sensitive flesh of her earlobe through his teeth.

She smiled, and a tremor of electric excitement erupted from the contact and cascaded like a waterfall all the way down to the tips of her toes.

“This is a very grave matter, someone creeping on your balcony in the night. We should be taking it very seriously.”

“I am.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“No,” she said, drawing out the word. “Me? Of course not.”

He had leaned back and was watching her with a gaze heated by lust. A soft chuckle rolled through him, and he muttered, “You lie so pretty. It’s a little scary.”

Sorin didn’t exactly have the best track record for honesty, and she scoffed. “So do you.”

A lopsided, impish smirk lifted one side of his lips. “Well, I hold no more secrets. You’ve wrung them all out of me in just a matter of days.”

“How do I know that’s true? You lie so pretty, after all.”

“I swear on my vampire honor,” he joked, knowing vampires had very little honor, if any. “But, no, I promise. You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you aside from your snowboarding and competitive snow sculpting.” His gaze was intense, holding hers captive. “We will remedy that, yeah?”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I wish to know you better.”

Nadaria giggled, and his head tilted, listening to the lovely little sound. She sought his kiss, and he was more than happy to answer, enjoying the warmth she brought him. But she took his bottom lip between her teeth, pulling at it, and the warmth erupted into heated desire.

She felt him trying to push her mouth open with his, and giggled again, pulling free of his grasp.

“We should find Aurelian, and see what he was up to last night,” she said, trying to keep a straight face at his astonished expression.

“What was that?”

“What?”

“You still deny that you tease me?”

Nadaria shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She bit her lip and spun on her heel, snickering at his raised brows.

She had only opened the door a few inches when his hand slapped against it, slamming it shut again. His other hand laced around the front of her, lifting the skirt of her white dress and cupping her. A shocked moan ripped through her, and she felt his heavy breath on her ear.

Sorin’s fingers slid up and down over the tight material of her underwear, which had been returned to her that morning, and the threads of desire in her stomach twisted to life with an intoxicating throb. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and his hand traveled up to the waistband and snapped it.

Clicking his tongue, he whispered, “Just checking.”

His hand was gone the next second, leaving her aching for more, and she looked over her shoulder at him, wondering what he would’ve done if she hadn’t been wearing them. Sorin grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and her heart danced because, for the first time, she saw no underlying agony in his eyes. Just soft humor and wicked desire.

He reached around her and grabbed the doorknob, laying his hand over hers, and twisting it. Opening the door, he pressed closer behind her, grinding his obvious excitement against her backside.

“Well, what are you waiting for, bubblegum witch?”

Nadaria sighed, grinning and stepping out into the hall. But she chewed on her thumbnail as they walked, nervous because she liked Sorin so much. She was happy to be his True One, vampire or not. But what if they completed the bond, and she couldn’t save him at the next full moon, and he died? She would live hundreds of years in torment, missing him. And what if she saved him? Vampires were true immortals, being undead in a way. Witches had a long lifespan, but she would eventually age and die, and he would stay the same. Then it would be him in torment without her, and hadn’t he suffered enough in this lifetime?

He took her hand in his, looking down at her, and pondering her sudden mood shift. She pulled him in every direction, this woman. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Oh… nothing. I just want to find Aurelian.”

“Okay.”

Sorin definitely believed that she saw someone on her balcony, but he wasn’t sure it was Aurelian. Of everyone, he was his closest confidant. The butler had been present his entire life, and had played a big hand in raising Sorin when his father had been busy, which was often.

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I’m having too much fun writing this story! Double update today, maybe? ;)