Page 38 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Her fingers brush the collar, her expression darkening. “And if I refuse to play along?”

“Please, shout that the prince collared you from the rooftops. But then you invite the attention of my father’s spies, who, I assure you, watch me as closely as anyone else in the kingdom.” I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll let you explain your wings to my father himself, shall I?”

“Fair point,” she mutters.

Volmasque Academy rises ahead of us, an imposing castle manor of dark stonework, taller than it is wide, its arches carved with intricate detail and its tall, narrow windows black in the absence of light. Wolf gargoyles perch along the ledges, most of them missing their heads, and towering spires pierce the sky above them. It is compact and modest, as castles go, but at this hour, it must seem especially sinister to her.

Fog blankets the grounds, thick enough to swallow our feet as our boots crunch along the pebbled path. The dark lawns stretch out ghostly on either side, every hedge and tree a possible hiding place for one of my father’s spies.

There is no sign of students or professors, nor the guards who occasionally enter to patrol. Even so, I slow my steps.

“Can you scent anyone nearby?” I ask.

She glances at me, caught off guard. “Such as…?”

“Anyone other than us.”

“In the immediate vicinity? No.” She wrinkles her nose. “Just you.”

“Helpful,” I say dryly. “And further out? The grounds are vast.”

“As are your expectations.”

I halt. So does she. “I would appreciate a serious answer.”

She exhales. “You clearly don’t understand how wolf scent works.”

“Enlighten me.”

She folds her arms. “It’s not that precise. You don’t just…detect people at a distance like that. Wind shifts. Scents overlap, fade. An absence of scent doesn’t rule anything out.”

“Mm.”

Her eyes narrow. “Why? Looking for another stray to capture?”

“Well. One can never have too many.”

She rolls her eyes. “Shouldn’t you know something this basic about wolves by now?”

“I had my presumptions. I simply never bothered to ask.”

“Clearly. You’re probably too busy fucking them.”

“Something like that,” I say, though she’s further from the truth than she realises. “I am here often enough, but I doubt we’ll have much cause to speak. By the time we do, you’ll be well trained. I doubt any fucking on my part will be required at all.”

She blinks. Then, with a low hmph, she strides ahead, setting a brisk pace up the path despite her obvious nerves.

I leisurely follow along. I am still unsure whether I want to discipline her or admire her. I know what I should want: very little, beyond her subjugation.

When a tall corridor of hedges finally parts to reveal the school’s broad stone steps, she rounds on me, eyes hard.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s what?”

“You drag me here, collar me, and now you’re just leaving me?”

“You sound disappointed.”