Page 18 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

I notice a fallen log by the roadside, split and rotting, its thin green branches growing vertically up from the broken trunk like brand new saplings.

I shift my position on the seat, massaging my jaw as I try to ease the pressure of the gag, but it sits heavy and intrusive, forcing my mouth open, stretching everything too far. Then there’s the saliva. I have to keep wiping my chin with my sleeve.

All the while, the vampire studies me, almost unblinkingly, as if I am fascinating.

My stomach twists. Does resisting only feed his sick fantasy?

Conscious of my racing heart, I focus on slow, even breaths. I have no idea where we are, or how far we are from the Capital. For all I know, he might not be taking me there at all. It would be just like a vampire to twist things just to toy with its prey.

I steal a glance at him as he removes his coat, folding it to one side before rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and patting at the wine stains with a napkin.

His ice-blond hair is smooth again, though a lock has escaped. Up close, he looks no older than thirty, his face too smooth and unlined for the severity he carries.

He glances up and catches me watching, his blue eyes so striking I can’t look away.

A shiver runs through me.

He lifts a brow in question.

I lift mine back. What?

For a moment, it almost feels like I can win this battle of wills, that we might be evenly matched.

Then the corner of his lip twitches in an infuriating smirk—and I become acutely aware of the gag forcing my mouth open. As if I could forget it.

Heat creeps up my neck. I hate him. And I hate how the gag reduces me.

I break eye contact, glancing around the carriage wearily. I don’t know where to put my gaze so I don’t have to look at him.

“Oh, by the way,” he says, lacing his fingers. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I never asked your name.”

I stare at him. Is he kidding me right now?

“Surely you have one?” He touches his chin thoughtfully, appraising me.

I have no words. Literally.

His lips curl. “I’ll just guess, shall I? Is it…Kira?”

I reel back in my seat.

How the fuck does he know my name?

Did the witch somehow read my mind and tell him? Can magic do that?

“You look like a Kira,” he muses, still stroking his chin. “Or perhaps…a Karen.”

Anger sparks, overcoming my shock. Slowly, I raise both my hands—and give him another rude finger gesture with both. FUCK YOU!

He laughs—a short, harsh laugh that is strangely disarming even as it slices the air.

“Well, Karen,” he says, and I know he calls me that to irk me, “I propose we turn over a new leaf. Let’s see if you can behave, hmm?”

He reaches forward. I flinch back instinctively, only to go still as I realise that he is removing the gag. I spit out the ball the moment the straps loosen, fresh air hitting my throat. I drag in a breath, lungs burning as if I’ve been underwater too long. I could hardly breathe through the damn thing.

The vampire reaches into his coat on the seat beside him and produces a flask. “You must be thirsty. Water?” He holds it out.

My mouth is dry. I have to drink. But I make no move to take the flask.