Page 8 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

“How fortunate,” comes a smooth, lazy voice. “I do so enjoy being helpful.”

I whirl around, daggers flashing into my hands—and freeze.

A tall man in a charcoal-grey suit leans against the wall beside the door, arms folded loosely across his chest. Ivory skin, icy-blond hair swept to the side, and a long, elegant frame. His piercing blue eyes, narrow face, angular jaw, and carved cheekbones mark him unmistakably as a member of vampire aristocracy.

A faint smirk touches his mouth.

My stomach drops.

It’s a trap.

The witch isn’t hiding here. She’s a prisoner.

The vampire remains eerily still, his pale eyes studying me, amused and calculating.

Then he blinks.

“My, my,” he lilts, his polished accent stretching the words. “How did a wild little wolf like you wander in here?”

I move without thinking, stepping in front of the old woman.

“Stay behind me,” I say to her.

The vampire’s smile deepens, his interest sharpening. “And what do you think you are doing?”

“Stay back,” I snarl. “I’m leaving—and taking her with me.”

“Indeed?” He chuckles darkly. “So fierce.” His gaze drops to the daggers in my hands before returning to my eyes, his head tilting to one side like an owl. “Though I must confess…I expected more teeth.”

Chapter 2

Nathaniel

She simply stares at me, amber eyes burning beneath the shadow of her hood, bright as molten metal.

A wolf shifter.

I know it from the eyes, the sure-footed way she moves, the wary, predatory tension in her body. Her features are softer than a vampire’s but no less striking—hooded amber eyes beneath dark brows, a full mouth, warm olive skin. And her nostrils flare as she scents the air, something no dignified vampire would ever be caught doing.

My insult about her teeth has registered—I see it in the sharp flare of her gaze, the disapproving set of her jaw.

Not a submissive wolf, then. I have just enough time to admire that spark of defiance—and then she moves.

Both daggers leave her hands in a blur, flashing towards my throat.

I twist aside on instinct.

Steel whistles past my collarbone—and thunks into the wall behind me.

Before I can recover, her body changes. I expect fur.

Instead, dark clothes flow back like poured oil as her body reshapes beneath them, fabric and skin melting together into gemlike black scales that gleam like polished onyx.

Recognition follows a heartbeat later, seizing my chest.

I have seen this creature before, though not close enough to connect her with the woman beneath the hood.

It is not how a wolf should look, yet her features are unmistakably lupine, despite the dark scales covering her snout and shoulders. The smooth scales soften along the bridge of her muzzle into fine, velvety fuzz, while a thick ruff frames her face, the black strands fading to silver halfway along their length before sweeping back along the ridge of her spine, luminous beneath the moonlight.