Page 59 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Finally, Becky gathers enough courage to blurt, “You have a collar.”

A smile pulls at my mouth, but it feels sour. If I was back at the Resistance, I would not have bothered to answer the obvious. But I should at least try to blend in. So I say, “Yes.”

She licks her lips, her cheeks flushing. “You’re so lucky. I mean—” she adds quickly as I frown. “Not lucky, obviously. Sorry. I only meant it must be nice to have everything sorted already.”

“Sorted?” I stare at her.

“Yeah. You know. A collar. A connection. Someone taking an interest in your future.” She pokes at her eggs with her fork. “Most students have to wait ages before anyone important even notices them. Most end up at the blood bank.”

“Not everyone wants a Master, Becky,” Susie says gently.

Harvey slouches back on his right hand and says proudly, “Speak for yourself. Some of us are playing hard to get—holding out for the right one.”

Clara scoffs and leans closer to me. “You are lucky, you know. A collar will make it easier to pass Zott’s class. You’ll be exempt from a lot of the practical assessments.”

I don’t ask. I have a feeling I don’t want to know. And I promise myself that I won’t stick around long enough to find out.

“My cousin got collared in her first fortnight,” Becky says wistfully. “Says she took initiative—some vampires just like being asked, I think. Did you ask anyone to collar you, Kira?”

I gape at her, fighting the urge to laugh in her face. “No. I didn’t.”

“So your Master asked you?” she presses.

“Who is your Master, anyway?” Harvey asks, chomping into an apple.

“I, err…” I begin, at the same time that Susie says loudly—

“She doesn’t know. It was an undisclosed patronage.”

Undisclosed patronage. A fancy lie to hide that I have no Master at all. Nathaniel made that plain enough in the carriage—I am not claiming you—and I believe him.

I am simply floating through the system until he or Arken decides which depraved vampire nobleman gets to feed from me and fuck me for the rest of my days.

No, thank you.

“Oooh, undisclosed? Top secret?” Harvey fawns. “How increasingly mysterious.” Then he freezes. “Shit. I forgot my essay for Marmala downstairs.”

“You better go get it before the bell rings,” Clara says worriedly.

Harvey staggers to his feet with a lurch that makes me notice, properly this time, that it is not only his arm that is affected. His whole left side is weaker—his left leg dragging half a beat behind the right as he takes two uneven steps away from the circle.

Then he rolls forward.

For an instant he is all limbs and uniform and motion, and then a swirl of dark fur tumbles across the stone. A lean wolf lands where Harvey stood, his coat black as charcoal except for his left foreleg, where silver fur spreads across his underside and climbs into the ruff at his chest. He darts away with surprising speed, the weakness on that side far less obvious now.

I watch him go enviously, my heart straining after him. I yearn to shift. To feel my body break open into something truer. To dart up the steps, through the front doors, and not stop until I reached the cover of forest, with damp earth beneath my paws and the Academy far behind me.

The collar sears my throat, and I hiss, my hand flying up.

“You alright?” Susie asks.

“Fine,” I grunt, pretending to scratch my ear as the leather cools against my skin.

A sudden hush catches my attention, rippling through the dining hall like a released breath.

Every part of me comes alive, braced and alert. I look up at the middle tier as Nathaniel walks through the main doors carrying—absurdly—a bouquet of red roses.

“That’s the prince,” Clara whispers helpfully.