The Toad Prince

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sorin stared at the wall of books in study, while waves of anger and sorrow took turns washing through him. He got up and walked to the shelves, running his fingers over the spines of the familiar gold-embossed titles set in leather.

”I don’t want that with you. If I could reject you, I would.”

Sorin’s own words echoed in his mind, and his lips curled back over his teeth. He pushed his fingers between the books and pushed at them until the shelf broke, and they all fell in a tumbling crash around him. He ripped at the other shelves left on the wall, tearing them down in a symphony of ripping pages and snapping wood.

“Not everyone can be mended.”

“You’re right. But only because they refuse to be.”

He stopped and ran his hands down his face. She had a habit of doing that, making difficult things seem simple. Like it was really so easy to just forgive himself, and forget and move on. He couldn't ever do that… right?

Something solid hit the door of the study, and he jumped into surprise. He heard Nicoleta groan in the hallway. The door wasn’t usually locked. A panicked knock followed.

“My Lord! Are you in there?”

He went to the door and yanked it open.

“Nicoleta?”

“My Lord!” Her face was flushed, and she struggled to catch her breath. “Aurelian and I… jar… lily pond.”

“What?”

She pulled in a deep, gasping breath. “Aurelian and I thought there was a jar in the lily pond. We told her… Nadaria. I said shouldn’t we get Lord Sorin? But she didn’t want you because you’re such a… such an asshat!” she shouted, glaring at him. He shrank back and his mouth fell open. Nicoleta never raised her voice at him. “And she went right in. But I don’t know. It felt bad, so I came to get you.”

“Nadaria is in the lily pond?”

“Yes.”

“In the ballroom?”

“Yes. What other lily pond would it be?” she snapped.

“Oh, for f**k’s sake,” he growled, pushing by Nicoleta.

Every time he left her alone, she found trouble.

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Blackness invaded Nadaria’s vision, so she almost didn’t see the pointed leather shoe flash just by the side of her head and kick Crina with immense force. The undead woman shrieked, and the shoe caught her twice more before arms wrapped around Nadaria and lifted her.

“It’s alright, miere, I’ve got you.”

Aurelian hoisted her on his shoulder and she searched for breath, doing something between coughing and retching to get the water out of her lungs. She clung to the jar, determined it wouldn’t break.

Aurelian was so tall his feet could touch, but Nadaria watched over his shoulder and the white nightgown moved under the water, stalking him.

She opened her mouth, but couldn’t speak, still choking and trying to catch a real breath in her burning lungs. A whining gasp was all she could manage as Crina latched onto his legs and clawed up his body like he was a ladder. The undead woman seemed intent on finishing what she started and hissed a vile, rotting breath in Nadaria’s face.

Nadaria felt the graze of her teeth across the tip of her nose as Aurelian pulled her away just in time to prevent Crina from biting her face off. He tossed Nadaria the rest of the way, and her back hit the solid floor with a smack.

It was a painful, but helpful, impact as it slapped her diaphragm and lungs into action, pushing the rest of the water up and out. She rolled on her side and a violent coughing fit overtook her as she tried to watch Aurelian.

He was grappling, hissing in pain, but he got his hands on the edge of the pool and pulled himself out. Crina clung to him, but as soon as she hit the threshold of the pool, she let go and sank back into the black oblivion of roots and evil.

“Miere,” Aurelian said, his cheeks red from the exertion. “Are you—”

His eyes widened, and Nadaria furrowed her brow, watching his pupils dilate and his eyes go from amber to scarlet.

“Oh, gods.” He covered his mouth and nose as his fangs and claws elongated. His eyes were on the wound at her shoulder, seeping blood.

On hands and knees, he crawled away, but stopped. Nadaria watched him, witnessing his torment as his nature as a vampire tried to overthrow his control as her friend. He clutched his head in his hands, his back rising and falling with deep, strained breaths. His nails dug into his scalp with such aggression that beads of blood erupted, staining his white hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he groaned, and when he whirled back around, she knew the thirst had won. His eyes glowed red in the lowlight, and he moved from his knees to a crouch.

“Aurelian,” she gasped, holding up her hand. “Don’t.”

A flash of recognition flared in his eyes, followed by sorrow, and then the hunger reclaimed him. Aurelian was not there. Only the thirst. He leapt on her, straddling her waist.

His nails dug into her chin as he ripped her head to the side, growling. Her thoughts were with the jar, and she held it protectively out of the way. He lowered his head, and she yelped when his teeth sunk into the already ripped flesh of her shoulder.

“No! You don’t want to do that, my friend.”

Arms wrapped around Aurelian’s chest, and he flailed against them. Sorin pushed his elbow and forearm up under his throat, choking him, and he lifted Aurelian off of Nadaria.

Sorin’s muscles strained, holding his crazed friend. “Remember yourself. The thirst does not control you.”

But Aurelian was lost to the sweet smell of iron that hung heavy in the air. He scrambled to get back to her, to the blood. Sorin dragged him away from the temptation, and by the time they reached the door, Aurelian’s movements had calmed.

“Thank you. Thank you, boy,” he gasped, and Sorin released some of the pressure at his throat.

Sorin shoved him out into the hall, and he stumbled to his hands and knees. Nicoleta squeaked a sound of alarm and dropped down next to him with her hand on his back.

Sorin listened to her say, “Oh, Aurelian.” And he heard the soft sob that answered, the butler’s back shaking.

He slammed the door shut and locked it, pushing his back against it to compose himself. His gaze drifted to Nadaria lying on the floor still. He needed to help her, but he, like Aurelian, was struggling with control.

A sob broke through Nadaria, ripping up her raw throat, and she pulled the limp form of Roux out of her bra.

“Ru-ru,” she rasped. “Why do you gotta be the hero like that?”

He was still bleeding, but on closer inspection, the wounds weren’t as bad as she feared. The snake lifted his head and flicked his tongue at her, then relaxed again. She petted his back and closed her eyes, resting.

Nadaria wasn’t sure how long it was. Time seemed strange. It could’ve been seconds or minutes, but she heard ripping fabric and Sorin knelt by her.

“Ah, f**k. Nadaria,” he muttered, wrapping the torn scraps of his shirt around the wound at her knee. His hands shook with violent tremors, and his fangs were long, but she saw steel determination in his eyes.

“Everyone wants a piece of this,” she joked, her voice still broken.

He was not impressed with her humor. “You are an impetuous fool. How could you go in there without me here? You could’ve died! Aurelian could’ve killed you!”

“I got the jar.”

“I see that. I care little for the jar right now.”

“Well, I care for it. If I destroy it maybe I can have some of my magic back and I won’t be such a damsel in distress,” she said, the bitter hurt resurfacing. “Then I won’t need you. As a matter of fact, why don’t you just leave the bandages and go? I’ll be fine.”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze and he sighed, mumbling, “That isn’t happening.”

She set her jaw and looked away from him, still petting Roux.

He sighed again and started wrapping her upper arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things in such an awful way.”

Nadaria understood the subtle meaning of that apology. He still stood by the words he said. He was only sorry for saying them the way he did. Her True One didn’t want to be with her, at least not in a forever way. She winced at the twist in her heart, and she bit her lip hard to fight the tears that formed in her eyes. It was harder to hear than she expected.

Many times in her life, people had accused her of being too soft. Too giving. Easy to take advantage of because she was too nice. She wanted to help Sorin, but it couldn’t be at the sacrifice of her own heart. Nadaria still believed there was hope for them, but it had to be a mutual sharing of trust. She couldn’t dig Sorin out of the rut he was stuck in by herself. He had to try too, or they would both end up buried by the weight of his past.

Nadaria didn’t answer him, and the tension between them grew thick. Sorin held the rest of the scraps of his shirt over the large wound on her shoulder and applied pressure. She winced, and he said, “I’m sorry.”

Still, she stayed quiet, and he ran his thumb over her cheek where a perfect bite mark was set in the flesh. She pulled away from him, and his heart sank.

“I just want to go to my room,” she said. “Tomorrow we’ll have to take this jar to the crossroads, and I need to rest before we do that.”

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OMG will Sorin get it together, or what?! :)