Fairest 02 - The Frog Prince (2 page)

Christopher
Greyson had been traveling for months now, to reach the castle within the dragon fire. Seraphim had worked a spell to ingrain the way inside of his mind, and he’d hopped, and walked, unceasingly. For a while he’d been afraid that he’d be trapped as a frog full time again, but the spell had yet to return full force. Something had happened to his stepmother, something to weaken her magic and therefore her hold over his curse. He didn’t know what it could be, but he knew his luck could run out at any moment. He had to find a cure for himself long before she managed to get her full powers back.

Already he felt as if he was stretching his luck. But there had been no helping his slow pace. As a man he could sprint, stride, hitchhike, whatever he needed to do to cover the distance. But as a tree frog…well, his
legs were only so long. He was lucky to get a few miles after a shift. It didn’t help that there were other, larger, animals out there that would love having a hapless frog for dinner. At one point he’d even out hopped a couple of hillbillies.

His stepmother would have sorely disapproved of the language the two men had been reduced to when they’d been unable to catch him. For Chris, the experience had been strangely….thrilling. He’d spent the majority of his life growing up inside of a magically lined cage. There was so much he’d yet to experience, to see, to feel. He wasn’t even sure how to interact with other people anymore. He’d been cursed as a child and the sad truth was
, he was more comfortable being a tree frog than a man. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do with himself if, when, he was finally able to break his curse. A job would likely be first on the list. Though he had no discernable skills that he could think of.

Unless you counted catching a fly out of midair with just a tongue a skill.

The truth was that, even if he didn’t know what to do with his life after he was cured, he understood instinctively that he could no longer live life as a frog.  He would fix himself, no matter the consequences, and finding this castle was just the first step. Getting inside had been surprisingly easy. Almost too easy. He’d thought the flames would torch him, but for whatever reason they’d seemed to shy away. It had taken him days to make is way through the maze. Seraphim had warned him never to travel through it during the day, so he’d only moved at night after he shifted, sleeping through the day. Finally reaching the castle itself had been a relief. It was a large gray monstrosity. The towers stretched so far into the sky he couldn’t see their tops for the clouds surrounding them.

Again, circumstances had exceeded his expectations. Rather than having to find a crack or crevice to squeeze through to enter the castle, the door simply blew open.
Welcoming him with open arms as it were. He didn’t realize that something sketchy was going on until the same door had slammed shut behind him.

That’s when he started hearing The Voice.

He capitalized the words in his mind because they deserved the uppercase letters. The Voice was a sultry collection of vowels and consonants. A husky song whispering in his ear. He’d liked it more than he should have. Especially since he was pretty sure the voice belonged to a ghost. It was just further proof that he’d been left to his own devices for too long. Following the ghost’s instructions, he made his way upstairs. It felt like hours before he finally reached the door leading into the tower and he examined it closely. From what he could tell there wasn’t a knob or anything he could use to get inside. Chris was wondering if he could squeeze between the bottom of the door and the floor when it creaked open all on its own.

Huh.

Lucky.

He gave a
ribbit of froggy approval and shimmied through the half inch of space that had been provided, mentally congratulating himself on how good his luck had been today. Then he saw the body. Based on her laughter, he’d though the ghostly voice had been teasing him earlier, but obviously not. The room was spacious, but the large four-poster bed in the middle somehow dwarfed the otherwise generous amount of floor space.

Sheer curtains surrounded the circumference of the mattress, and he could just make out the slim form
sprawled out amongst the thick blankets and mountain of pillows. Chris moved over to the edge of the bed. Glancing up, it was like looking at the wide expanse of a mountain. Chris swallowed thickly and began to climb up the blanket, fingers and toes sticking to the cream colored silk. He pulled himself up onto the surface of the bed, finding himself by the woman’s foot. He pressed his overly long toes on her ankle and peeked up the length of her body. It was hard to determine her build or how tall she truly was in his current state. The one thing he was sure of was that she was a beautiful creature.

Her light brown hair was a mass of springing curls around her face.
Sharp cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, and a patrician nose. She had one of those duck mouths, the upper lip much plumper than the bottom. There was a small birthmark next to her right eye and he couldn’t help but notice how long and thick her lashes were.

He wanted to kiss that mouth, touch the smooth, rich chocolate of her skin. He could imagine the husky voice that he’d heard before coming from a body like that, and the sensation the knowledge caused, the fire in his veins, was both unfamiliar yet strangely anticipated. He found himself walking along the hills and valleys of her body.
Higher and higher until he reached her face. He stared down at her from less than an inch away and croaked, pleased to be so close. So surrounded by the warmth and smell of her.

She wasn’t a corpse. Just a sleeping
woman, and watching her in slumber reminded him of his own exhaustion. He’d been relentless in his travel, and hadn’t slept peacefully even when he did sleep at all. Something about her soothed him, and he croaked again before settling down in the crook of her neck and going to sleep.

***

The morning sun slanted through the windows and warmed the side of Christopher’s face. He groaned, pressing his face against the curve of the woman’s neck against which he slept. He opened his eyes groggily, jerking back in surprise when he realized that he was human once again. He hated this twixt and twain nonsense. From midnight till noon he was human. Then from noon to midnight he was a frog. It made making long term commitments difficult, but it was better than the alternative. Which would have been living full time as a damn frog. A puny one at that.

Sometimes Chris wondered if his consternation over his curse had to do with the fact that he couldn’t shift into anything cool. He may have enjoyed the little quirk in his character if he could have been a bird of prey, or a white tiger, or maybe a Puma.
Or an Orca. Basically anything other than a tree frog would have been preferable. Now, a man once again, he stretched his arms above his head, enjoying the pull of his muscles as he got to his feet. Though naked, he wasn’t especially concerned about the woman in the bed waking up. She was under a sleeping curse after all. She hadn’t moved an inch the entire time he’d been there, and he would have continued believing her to be dead if he hadn’t spent the whole night listening to the gentle beat of her pulse in his ear.

He went to the window, hoping to see what the world looked like from so high up. But as soon as he neared the glass the flames outside pulsed and grew larger, momentarily blocking out the sky until he stumbled away with a curse. The room heated and he heard a strange growling that made the floor shake. His eyes narrowed. Chris hadn’t been able to close the door the night before and now he took a step towards it. Squinting at the darkness he could see just beyond the open crack. There was something…

The growl sounded again and a hot, rolling cloud of smoke slipped into the room. Chris cursed and lunged forward when he realized that the darkness wasn’t a shadow, but the dark iris of a creature. A monster with scales and a huge snout that he was about to use to push the door open even wider. Chris shoved the heavy mahogany shut, his back against it and his breath coming heavy. More smoke rolled in and his bare skin turned bright red from the heat. The door shook on its hinges, and for a moment, Chris was worried that the dragon would break through. But after a tense moment, Chris felt the heat lessen and eventually disperse entirely.

He stepped away carefully, suspicious that the creature would return at any moment. He crouched on the ground, staring unblinkingly at the door for any sign of danger, but none was immediately forthcoming. Chris sat there for almost half an
hour, and he didn’t realize he had fallen back into his froggy habits until he started eyeing a dust mote as if it were a particularly obnoxious insect. He surged to his feet, mouth growing tight in irritation. He heard a whimper and he turned to glance at the woman. He could have sworn he saw one of her fingers twitch and he stepped closer. Unsure. She flinched again and Chris crossed the room to her. Was she waking up? There was more color to her cheeks and for the first time he could see her chest rise and fall as she breathed. But as he leaned over her, he couldn’t find any other signs that she was coming out from under her spell. Looking down at her, he couldn’t help but think back on all of the fairytales he’d heard as a child. Seraphim had never told him exactly what it was he would need to do in order to heal them both. She’d just ordered him to show up. When he thought about it, the only logical thing to do was to kiss her. Her mouth was calling him after all, and considering their situation, it would only be fair to give the simplest solution a try.

Now that he’d effectively talked himself into it, he leaned forward, covering the distance between them, and pressed his lips against hers. She tasted just as sweet as he’d thought she would. Like gingerbread and spices, like butterscotch and caramel. He slipped his tongue between her lips, his eyes drifting shut. She felt so warm against him, so soft and pliant. Something growling and hungry reared its head deep inside of him, and with a sigh, he pulled away.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself gazing down into the hazel depths of his very own sleeping beauty. He grinned at her, pleased that the kiss had worked. Her lips quirked in a return smile, right before she reared back and head-butted him in the face. He flew back, hands over his stinging nose. But before he could say anything, he shifted back into a frog in a puff of purple smog.

“What the hell?” the woman
murmured, and Chris croaked in angry assent.

***

She was awake.

Sweet body of Christ, she was awake.

Her hands reached up and she stroked her own face, disbelieving. Rachel was trembling and she couldn’t seem to stop touching things. Pressing her hands into the pillows that surrounded her, stroking the silk of her blanket, running her fingers through her hair and squealing in pleasure at the overload of sensation.

Smells had never been stronger; her sight had never been so sharp, her hearing so acute. She loved it. Maybe she’d been a little overzealous when she’d attacked the man who’d kissed her. Speaking of which…

Rachel glanced around the room, pulling herself upright. Her muscles were so shaky from disuse that she rolled off the mattress clumsily, unable to hold herself upright. She felt like a newborn calf, struggling to crawl her way across the floor without falling straight on her face. The frog glared at her, backing away with suspicion in his eyes. Rachel hadn’t gotten a very clear look at him before her forehead had made close acquaintance with his nose. Either way, she remembered the feel of his lips against hers. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d had an overzealous man show her some lovin’ to wake her up. Usually they started a little lower before working their way up to her mouth, but Rachel found that she liked the change of pace.

She grinned at the little critter, pleased with him. She hadn’t thought a kiss would have done the trick. But Rachel supposed you should never
diss the oldies.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she cooed, pulling him close and cupping him in her hands. She nuzzled him, enjoying the smooth expanse of his bright green skin. She gave him a smacking kiss on the top of his head.

Then she passed out.

***

“Huh,” Chris said slowly, his head angling to one side as he considered the softly snoring woman on the floor as he hovered on all fours over her. “I’m starting to notice a pattern,” he said with a nod. “I can’t say I like it too much.”

He shook his head in disgust, mentally hoping that one day he’d be able to get his hands on Seraphim long enough to strangle the witch out of her. Groaning, he got to his feet.
Bending down only long enough to lift the woman in his arms so that he could carry her back to the bed. This was obviously going to be a lot more complicated than he’d hoped. How the hell was she supposed to cure him if she couldn’t stay conscious as long as he was human and vice versa? Not to mention the giant lizard now living in the hallway and the fire that wanted to slow roast him over a pit.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, laying her on the bed as gently as possible.
“Son of a fucking bitch.” He brushed a curl from her forehead and swiped a thumb across the mole next to her eye. He’d like to see those wide hazel eyes once more, feel those lips against his own, if only long enough for her to smack him again.