Page 196 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Chelsea crosses the attic and crouches beside me. “You know what to expect, don’t you?”

“Sort of.” I swallow. “Yes. No.”

“Since you’re a virgin, they’ll remain in their human forms. There won’t be any knotting, if that’s some consolation.”

I stare at her. It had not occurred to me that they might shift.

“Relax,” she says, reaching for my shirt.

I catch her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Mark likes breasts. Unless you want him tearing the buttons off, you should leave these open.” Her expression tightens as she undoes the first two. “And take off your blazer.”

A chill moves over my skin as I shrug out of it and finish undoing the shirt buttons. As instructed, I’m not wearing anything underneath. “Any other advice?”

She glances towards the door. “Make some sounds.”

“Sounds?”

“If they believe you’re enjoying it, they might finish faster.”

I look at her properly then. At the stiff set of her shoulders and the way she avoids my eyes. “Is that what you did?”

“Well, not with my brother, obviously. But I had to with the others. This is how every female is accepted. And how some choose to remain in favour with the alphas.” She holds my gaze. “Ready?”

One night, I remind myself. One night for protection. One night for power. I nod, and Chelsea moves to the door and opens it.

The alphas enter one by one.

Their presence transforms the attic. Their hulking forms fill the low room with broad shoulders, rolled shirtsleeves and the heavy scent of wolf. Some take their places against the sloping walls. Others sit upon crates and broken furniture. Most discard their blazers, and several remove their shirts altogether.

Mark takes the only armchair, bare-chested, his torso every bit as chiselled as I assumed it would be. He sprawls across it like a king presiding over a particularly squalid court.

The sight leaves me strangely unaffected.

“Kira,” he greets.

I don’t reply. My mouth has gone dry. The sight of so much naked, muscled bulk nearly sends me running for the door. How am I supposed to lie beneath all twelve of them for my first time?

Mark leans forwards, his forearms braced upon his knees. “Are you ready?”

I gulp. “Yes.”

His smile says he can smell the lie. He drags his chair closer with several scrapes and takes hold of my jaw, tipping my head back to meet his eyes. “Nervous?”

“No.”

His smile quirks. My fear must be pouring from me. “Stand up for me.”

I rise obediently, and Mark lifts my skirt and ducks beneath it, his face disappearing between my thighs. I go rigid as his stubbled cheeks scrape sensitive skin, but he doesn’t do anything except draw a long, audible breath through his nose.

Then another.

He’s sniffing me.

“Untouched,” he murmurs. “She was telling the truth.”

An excited murmur travels around the room. Chelsea rolls her eyes.