Page 21 of The Frog Prince

“No. No, I don’t want the deal. I refuse. I refuse!”

Flinging himself away from it, he struggled to wade over to a collapsed wall and pull himself up into the ruins. He ran, trying to escape the mud and filth that wanted to trap him there forever.

“Otto,” the mud burbled after him.

Climbing over broken walls and through destroyed doorways, he searched for a way out. It felt like a maze. His name echoed around the space, cacophonous and incessant. He felt dizzy and disorientated, the world turning black at the edges.

He fought to stay conscious as he took another corner into a cavernous room with no ceiling, willow leaves draping through and creating their own walls, but he swayed dangerously on his feet.

Long, cold fingers curled around his arms to catch him before he fell. He gasped, the sound echoing through the trees, yet no one answered.

It was just the Frog Prince and him.

Wetness began to seep into his ruined clothes, the smell of algae and earth thick and cloying as he was pulled against a thin chest, the rib cage protruding and digging into his back. Two webbed feet bracketed his, and he stared down at them as slippery lips moved to his ear, running along the sensitive whorl and whispering, “Otto.”

A shaky breath shuddered from his throat as those hands slid down his arms and across his chest, catching on the bare strips of skin and brushing across his nipple. He let out a cry of shockas gooseflesh broke out all over, barely able to react as his shirt was stripped from his chest entirely.

He was turned around in an instant, bared before the prince.

He flushed, completely overtaken and utterly overwhelmed, unable to work out his feelings as the prince stared at him with such hunger he was sure he was about to be devoured whole.

Bracing his hands against the Frog Prince’s shoulders, he stared at that hideous face as he was walked backward with purpose. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from those unusual green irises as he was guided over the threshold like a new bride, not knowing where he was until something soft and wet hit his back and he was laid down on a bed made of lily pads, his shirt in tatters around his arms.

The Frog Prince slid onto the bed next to him, smooth as water, running along the whole length of his side. A hand landed heavily, low on his stomach, making him draw it in sharply in reaction as those bulbous fingertips stuck to his skin, sucking kisses that would leave blooming bruises. His legs spasmed without his permission, sensations he had never experienced before racing through his body and making his blood pump hard in his ears.

Otto’s lips parted on a suspended breath as the Frog Prince leaned in…

“OTTO!”

He gasped awake, sweating and shaking.

Liesel was staring at him with wide eyes, a candle in her hands and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. It was getting dark outside.

“Are you okay, dear? You look like you saw the devil himself,” Liesel said.

Otto glanced around the room, panicked and paranoid, before rubbing at his ear and stomach, feeling phantom wetness and atightness in his breeches that he couldn’t explain. “I think I did,” he whispered, voice trembling.

“You’ve been through an ordeal,” she said. “No wonder your mind is playing tricks. Let’s get you to a comfortable chair at least. You’ve both slept through most of the day, but I can wake you again when dinner is ready.”

“No.” Otto shook his head. “I fear to close my eyes at this moment.”

He turned instead to Gisela, who was sleeping peacefully. She hadn’t woken once in a coughing fit. She hadn’t even awoken from his nightmare. He hastily reached for her wrist, checking her pulse. It was even and strong, stronger than it had been in years.

Had the cure…worked?

“Gisela,” he called.

“You said rest was the best thing for her,” Liesel chastised him. “Why are you waking her?”

“I found the medicine I was searching for in the forest. I gave it to her before I fell asleep.”

Before Liesel could respond, Gisela stirred, scrunching her nose and then yawning long and loud. Nary a cough to be heard, the hoarse whisper of her throat replaced by strength. Otto had to fight to stay on the stool and not drop to the floor in shock.

“What miracle is this?” Liesel gasped in disbelief, lighting a sconce to flood the room with an orange glow.

“No miracle,” Otto murmured.

Simply a deal.