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.
Chapter Four
There wasn’t any music. There never had to be. The thorns biting into her flesh swayed to a song only they could hear, and she simply hung amongst them, bending to their will. She was a marionette and her strings sucked the life from her as gracefully as they handled her limbs. She danced day and night, her feet moving tirelessly and her body heavy with the weight of the sleeping spell.
She’d been dancing for days.
Weeks.
Months.
Long, endless, dark months.
Sometimes Danielle forgot about her and sometimes she would simply stand before Rachel and watch. For however long it took for her interest in the eternal ballet to fade. Her eyes unblinking as the vines pumped her full of the vitality they stole. Rachel’s shoes were filled with blood and something in her leg felt as if it were broken.
But still she danced.
She couldn’t scream. The sleeping spell wouldn’t allow it. But on a certain level, she was aware of what was happening to her. Danielle wanted it that way. Rachel could feel it. She cried. The tears were the only release she had and they came willingly, eagerly, to slip from her eyes and down her cheeks. The tears, she thought, was what Danielle seemed to enjoy the most.
***
Rachel awoke from the dream only when she realized that her soul was rising from her body. It was a subtle sensation, but distinct in its own way. Sort of like when you get your hair cut and you can feel the scissors biting through, the tear as bits of you fell away. This was like that, except all over. A tingle in her flesh as her spirit drifted towards the ceiling. She opened her eyes, unsurprised, but a little sad to look down at her own body. She was in the bed again. Probably all thanks to the man asleep at the foot of the mattress. She hovered just above him, enjoying the stubble that dusted his chin, the strong, clean lines of his face. He had auburn hair that waved gently about his ears. His body was large, wide shoulders, slim hips. If his chest was as muscled and toned as his back and ass were, then Rachel was in for a treat if he ever rolled over. She was about to whisper sweet nothings in his ear to see if she could convince him to do just that when she heard an all too familiar voice echoing through the castle.
“Rachel.”
She came to attention, gaze darting to the door.
“Ray-chel.”
Cursing beneath her breath, she sent the naked man in her bed a final glance before darting from the room. She sped down the stairs, blasting into the great hall and spinning this way and that as she searched for the tell-tale cloud of purple smog. She heard him chuckle from the shadows, and her hands curled into fists at her sides as she turned around to face the man that had appeared directly behind her.
She smiled shakily in greeting.
“Hey Max. Long time no see.”
***
The first time she’d ever met Maximillian Zaran, she was at the home of her best friend’s mother. She could remember the scene as if it were yesterday. Rachel was sitting on her ottoman in her music room and Danielle Greyson was smiling as if Rachel were one of the lily white debutantes that she’d probably spent her entire life surrounded by. Rachel knew for a fact that Danielle didn’t like her. Normally she didn’t make a secret of her disdain, but for some reason Danielle Greyson was being the perfect hostess that day. She’d invited Rachel over a few hours ago, claiming that she needed to talk to her about Alex.
Turns out, Danielle actually wanted to get on Rachel’s case about the fact that Alex had skipped out on her appointment with Madam Clara. An act which had officially earned Alex an ass whooping from Rachel that she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of.
“Look, Ms. Greyson,” Rachel said, setting her teacup very carefully on the coffee table. She wasn’t bold enough to skimp on the coaster, despite a desire to irritate Danielle somehow for being such a raging biz-natch. “I’m really sorry Alex hasn’t been by lately. She’s not doing so well these days.”
“And whose fault do you think that is?”
Rachel barely refrained from rolling her eyes.
“Yours?”
Danielle paused mid-sip and her eyes narrowed. There was a beat of silence before she gave a tinkling laugh and sat her cup aside, pinky slightly extended to protect the delicate porcelain from clattering against the table.
“Rachel,” she began slowly, kindly, “How long have you and Alex been friends?”
Rachel did the mental math before answering. “Since fifth grade.”
“And how many times has my daughter broken a promise?”
“Never.” Danielle’s mouth grew tight and there was a sense of threat to her expression that had Rachel unconsciously straightening in her seat. “Never. Ma’am.”
Danielle sighed, “I thought not.” Crossing one slim leg over the other, she straightened the hem of her pleated sundress. “I’m disappointed in you Rachel, dear. I’d hoped that you’d be able to prove your worth. Prove that I wasn’t simply indulging another one of Alex’s whims by allowing you two to remain friends. I see now that my faith was misplaced.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Greyson,” Rachel said tightly, “but Alex missing her appointment was her own damned fault.”
“And yet you assured me that you’d be able to help her.” Danielle raised an eyebrow. “That she’d be able to live a normal life again. This isn’t just about the appointment dear. It’s the fact that you made a promise you couldn’t keep. In essence, you broke an oath. And that is…unforgivable.”
Rachel scowled. “I think you may be blowing this out of proportion. Just because she blew off Madam Clara doesn’t mean she’s going to be a recluse for the rest of her life. She’s my friend. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure that she’s happy. That doesn’t sound like a broken promise to me.”
Danielle mulled over that for a moment and then sighed. The doorbell rang at that moment and she lifted a hand.
“I’ll be right back.”
Rachel sighed, relieved when Danielle rose and walked from the room. Her knee was bouncing with nerves and Rachel glanced nervously around the room. Wondering if she should make a run for it while Danielle was distracted. Rachel was a lover, not a fighter, and she couldn’t deal with the stress Danielle Greyson generated. Especially since she was already worried sick about Alex. Rachel could hear the faint sound of voices from downstairs, but thanks to the sheer size of Danielle’s house, she couldn’t make out any details.
“Rachel…”
She glanced around, confused.
“Rachel…”
The voice drew her name out, a slow hiss that raised the fine hairs on her arms. Rachel got to her feet, unconsciously following the sound from the room. The voice kept calling for her, and she glanced nervously down the hall towards the steps. Hoping that Danielle wouldn’t be back anytime soon, she made her way down the hall, her finge
rs trailing across the walls as she traveled deeper within the house. The hall led her to a door and she stepped inside cautiously. The room itself was completely dark, and at first Rachel was just going to turn around and leave when she happened to hear a deep chuckle from within.
“Rachel. Constance. Dupree. Come closer, little human.”
Frowning, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her and trying to flip on the light. No matter how many times she flipped the switch, nothing happened. Luckily there was a window on the back wall and the light from outside seeped past the blinds. The beam of sunlight highlighted a box full of junk and it was the shadows surrounding that box that seemed to be calling her name.
Rachel edged closer, knowing that she should leave it alone, but unable to fight off the curiosity she felt. Rachel had always been a very practical woman, very down to earth, and she knew that rambling through Danielle Greyson’s house in search of some invisible voice was probably the height of stupidity. But she couldn’t ignore it. She couldn’t shake it. It was like a song in her blood and she walked closer and closer. Crouching beside the box, her hands went unerringly to small crystal vase tucked inside. There was a colored stopper blocking the opening and she held the vase up to eye level so that she could stare into its heart. It was a cloud of purple stardust. They spiraled and danced around one another, lighting like fireflies with every repetition of her name.
“Ray-chel.”
She felt light headed, and there was a sense of quivering excitement building in the pit of her being. Her hands shook as she reached out to grip the stopper to pull it free. The vase warmed in her hands and the purple stardust surged upwards. Rachel stumbled back as it filled the air, looming over her in a cloud and growing, solidifying, into the form of a man. He had a thinly trimmed goatee that framed a sensually full mouth and his lavender eyes were slanted. His dark red hair was braided in a multitude of smaller braids that had then been twisted up to form a complicated updo at the crown of his head.
He had a bone through the bottom of his nose, and more bones and bits of colored scarves were interwoven into his hair. The golden pants he wore were high-waisted and he wore no shirt. The tattoos that covered his arms and torso, only to disappear at the waistband of his pants, drew the eye along the strong muscled planes of his abdomen. Rachel decided right then and there that he was one fine piece of ass, even if he did look like a sociopath. Her eyes narrowed.
“Master,” he intoned, inclining his head slightly, “your wish is my command.”
She liked the sound of that, but she shook her head earnestly.
“Are you-?” This was crazy. “Are you a genie?”
He raised a brow. “Last time I checked.”
Rachel got to her feet, looking him over thoughtfully.
“So you do the whole three wishes thing?”
He angled his head and took a step towards her.
“That’s the plan, little love.”
There was an intensity to his gaze that made her feel a little giddy, and she looked away quickly before she could get sucked in by the shinning amethyst of his eyes.
“I don’t need three wishes,” she told him. “Just one.”
He grinned.
“What, oh what, could you have in mind, little human?”
Rachel had been wondering what Danielle Greyson would be doing with a Genie hidden in her house. Rachel wasn’t going to give Danielle the benefit of the doubt by saying that she hadn’t known about him either. The damn bottle glowed, and from what Rachel could see of the room, it was filled with other vases just like the one Mr. Yummy had popped out of. Danielle was up to something, but Rachel wasn’t going to worry about that right now. The second she had realized that she was talking to a Genie, only one thought had entered her mind.
Alex.
Rachel smiled slightly.
“I have a little proposition for you.”
“I already like where this is going.”
And the rest, as they say, was history.
***
His expression was just as smug as it had been the last time she’d seen him.
Though granted, their last meeting had consisted of her setting him free in exchange for curing Alex. If she’d known Danielle would find out about what she’d done so quickly, Rachel may have taken her three wishes instead. She’d just heard too many stories in which the person doing the wishing got more than they bargained for in the end. Rachel was studying to become a lawyer and she’d learned to watch out for the fine print, and Maximillian Zaran had “fine print” written all over him.
“What are you doing here?”
His eyes were bright in the shadows as he began to circle her. The bones in his braids clinking against one another as he moved. He’d changed his pants from gold to black and the purple of his eyes was even deeper than what she remembered. His irises were darker and larger. There was something…different about him. Something vaguely animalistic. Perhaps it had always been there. Perhaps he’d only seemed like a harmless trickster because of the bonds placed upon him by his position as a Genie. Now that he had no master, his true colors must be showing.
Either that, or something had happened to him.
It wasn’t her business.
“You should leave, little love.”
“What are you talking about?” Rachel asked, confused.
“Trouble’s brewing,” he said softly.
“How would you know?”
“Because I was the one that stirred the pot,” he said simply, and she blinked.
She hesitated. She wanted details, but something about the expression in his eyes made her reconsider. Instead, she cleared her throat, lifting up a bit from the ground as her anxiousness grew.
“I would love to leave,” she told him shakily. “But unfortunately…” Rachel gave a self-deprecating chuckle and waved a hand to indicate her current state.
“The boy will help.”
Boy?
“You mean the guy upstairs?” She grinned. “He’s a little old to be called a ‘boy,’ don’t you think?”
His head lowered and he growled, she floated back in alarm.
“Get out. While you still can,” he said rather than comment and Rachel nodded.
Though she couldn’t help but add, “How do I-?”
“Here.” He made a grab for her hand. She expected his fingers to simply slip right through. Even Seraphim wasn’t able to lay hands on her. So she jolted when she actually felt his hand wrap around her wrist. He pried her fingers open from the fist they were clenched into and shoved a small black pouch into her palm.
“What the hell is this?” she said, struggling to pull away from him. His thumb caressed her wrist for a moment before he released her. Again, she was surprised when rather than drop to the floor, she was actually able to hang on to the pouch he’d given her.
“A little fairy dust,” he said with a wink. “There’s not much, so use it wisely.”
“But-”
Before she could say anything else, he disappeared. He wasn’t as flamboyant with his entrances and exits as Seraphim, but he did leave behind the distinct scent of sulfur. Which was unsettling and not something Rachel wanted to think about for too long.
“Thanks,” she said softly and even though she could no longer see him, Rachel somehow felt as if he could still hear her. Rather than take the stairs, she shot straight up through the ceiling, bursting through the floor of her room as if there was a monster on her heels.
Chapter Five
Rachel was kneeling beside the bed. Raising her head slowly until just her eyes had cleared the edge of the mattress, she scowled. Frog man was handsome. Too handsome. Recent experience had taught her that he must be evil. But then again, how much damage could he do as a tree frog? If he caused her any trouble, all she had to do was give him a smooch and he’d be out of commission.
With that in mind, she took a deep breath.
“WAKE. UP!”
The man jerked awake
with a yelp, flipping out of the bed and onto the floor in his haste to escape the sound of her voice. Rachel stepped back. She knew that they couldn’t collide, but her run in with Zaran had made her jumpy. The man lifted himself up slowly, eyes darting around the room. Rachel tried to get a look at his junk but he grabbed a pillow and covered up before she could see anything.
“Who-?” He shook himself like a dog, visibly gathering his courage, and then surged to his feet. “Who’s there?”
“Rachel,” she said brightly.
“Rachel,” he grumbled, running a hand through his curling hair. Handsome devil. “Hello, Rachel.” He continued. Glancing towards her body, his lips quirked. “That you?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Cute aren’t I?”
He gave her a full smile for that one and her fingertips started to tingle.
“You have your charms.” He frowned. “You’re not dead are you?”
“Not yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You should know,” she told him. “You’re here to save me.”
“Uh…” He shook his head helplessly. “No. I think you have that backwards.”
She snorted.
“Well I sure as hell can’t do anything for you.”
“You make me human again,” he reminded her.
She laughed. “And you kill off my brain cells.” Shaking her head she began to circle him, content to eye the cute little dimples in his ass since she couldn’t see his penis. “If we plan on getting out of here, you should probably figure out a way to fix that.”
“Just me, huh?”
“Well it shouldn’t be too hard for a strapping young man like yourself to figure out.”
“Strapping young man?” He chuckled.
Rachel shrugged. “My best friend lives around a lot of old people. I can only resist their influence for so long.”
“Well I’ll try,” he said. Ducking his head and running a hand back and forth over his mouth as if she couldn’t see the pleased smile on his face. “Since I’m so strapping and all. But there is the small matter of the Dragon you have roaming the halls.”
Fairest 02 - The Frog Prince Page 3
