The Toad Prince

Chapter Four

Several other employees arrived and plated a decadent meal, serving it on the massive table. Enough to feed a hundred people. Sorin didn’t accept the plate offered to him, and instead poured wine for both of them.

It was a deep red color, and she sniffed it. Just checking. Sorin was too perceptive and chuckled.

“It’s berry wine. You think I would serve you blood?”

She scoffed. “I’m in a vampire lair surrounded by vampires. Like I’m not gonna check.” Nadaria looked at all the food. Vampires rarely ate because they only required blood to survive. “Why do you even have this food? Why is there so much? How did they prepare it so fast?”

“We have everything in this castle that was here the night she cast the curse. Tomorrow, the kitchen will once again hold this grand meal.”

He picked up a heavy, weighted goblet and hurled it across the room. The massive floor to ceiling window shattered in a conundrum of noise and glass.

“What are you doing?!” she yelled, jumping with surprise.

“Tomorrow, that window will be whole again. Every night the castle…” He paused like he was searching for the word. “Restores? Resets?”

“Interesting,” she muttered, eyeing him. She was glad she wore her cloak, because he’d certainly let in a draft. “Will you tell me who cursed you?”

“A vampire witch. The one who turned me. She was a daughter of Dracula himself, so they call me a vampire prince. I reject that title, though.”

“Why?”

His eyes flicked up to her and flashed with anger. “I don’t want to be a f*****g vampire anything.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he sighed. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t say such to things to a lady—”

“Well, I don’t fuckin’ blame ya,” she announced, and her voice echoed in the large room. She grinned at him. Nadaria didn’t say f**k all that often, but that didn’t mean it offended her.

But a vampire witch had cursed him. An ancient and powerful one. The revelation caused a beat of apprehension to shoot through her, and she hoped she possessed the skill and know-how to help Sorin. Although she was advanced for her age, she was still a young witch.

He was chuckling, his eyebrows raised. “You wear pink to fool everyone into thinking you’re sweet and innocent, yeah? A little viper in pink socks, that’s what you really are.”

“Well, now I have to stake you. You know too much,” she teased. But her heart was doing a little twirl. For some reason, that was one of the most flattering things anyone had ever said to her.

He smiled again and looked up at her. A new sorrow filled his gaze, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.”

“It causes you pain.”

He sighed, toying with the crystal base of his wineglass. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sorin’s lips tilted in a lopsided smile. “Ah. But no talks about how pain often holds the hand of joy. I am happy to remember, even if it hurts.” He looked up at her and caught her gaze with his. “I am glad you are here. You don’t need to apologize.”

Nadaria felt her cheeks heat again, and unable to hold his intense look, she returned her attention to her food. They ate, well, she ate, and he drank wine, in a comfortable silence. The food was to die for, and she wanted to find the chef and shake his hand. But the air grew thicker with tension every time Sorin checked his pocket watch.

“What time are we waiting for?” she asked.

“Midnight, of course.”

Nadaria assumed as much and glanced at the grandfather clock. They had half an hour. He saw her plate was empty and stood, offering her his hand.

She bit her lip and took it, then without warning, pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Sorin tensed, his whole body like stone. He looked down at her eyes, which were closed, and after a breath, he groaned softly and folded his hands around her waist.

Nadaria wanted it to be awful. She thought surely it would be terrible and then she would know what to do with Sorin and this True One bond.

But it wasn’t.

She was going for a closed lip peck, just to see if she could stand having her face that close to his, but found herself wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling close to him. He smelled like the berry wine they’d been drinking, and his lips were smooth and cool, like marble. She thought that part would be gross, but her heart fluttered an excited samba in her chest.

When his head tilted, and he sought more of her, Nadaria didn’t hesitate. She opened and allowed his tongue to find hers. At the contact, she shuddered. The kiss was electric, and its current coursed through her blood and into her stomach, where a thread of desire curled to life.

Sorin was stunned, but helpless to resist. He hadn’t been expecting such a thing, and tightened his hands on her waist as a draft from the broken window made her shiver. Because, surely, this beautiful woman did not quiver for him.

He was so cold, as a vampire he was only half-alive, and never warm. But it felt like he held a hot pink flame in his hands. She burned through him, turning his icy blood to slush, and making his head spin. She smelled like berry wine and bubblegum. Sorin knew she was the sweetest thing his hands had touched in a long time. He could hear her warm, sweet blood rushing in her veins, and the heavy, accelerated thud of her living heart.

Desire he thought to never know again ignited in him, and he growled low in his chest, pushing closer with his mouth and his body, until they molded together like they were fit for one another.

It was she who finally broke away, breathing hard against his lips. He was the same, breathless in a way that he couldn’t remember being.

Her soft brown eyes turned up to his, and he stared down at her, whispering, “That was unexpected.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I wanted that to be awful.”

Sorin felt like he was backpedaling. “Was it awful? Well, you can’t be judging me from that. I wasn’t ready. It’s been centuries since I kissed a woman… I’m out of practice. I can do better—”

“It wasn’t awful,” she mumbled, interrupting him with a giggle.

“Oh, good.” He didn’t know if he’d ever been so relieved, and he smiled.

Nadaria watched the sweet boyish smile that lit his face. Some of the sadness was gone. It was still there, lurking under the shadows of his eyes, but it was the realest happiness she’d seen from him.

When he turned to the grandfather clock, his features darkened. “Come. We need to be in the ballroom. It’s almost time. You will stay up on the second story with Nicoleta and watch from there, yeah? Promise?”

“Okay,” she whispered, flurries of dread and excitement both blossoming in her chest. She was curious to see, but could tell from his behavior it would not be pleasant. “Promise.”

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