Page 105 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

The laughter dies.

Chelsea uncrosses her slim legs and slowly rises. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I glance at Hannah, who looks as though she might dissolve into the floor, before tipping my chin up at the seated pack. “Aren’t you supposed to look out for other wolves?”

“Only wolves worth looking out for,” Chelsea says through her teeth.

“I see. Well, you’re doing a lovely job emulating vampire arrogance. Or are you part vampire yourself? With cheekbones like that…”

Chelsea steps closer, teeth bared.

I am preparing to step closer too when someone behind her rises.

The movement alone changes the air.

Mark Poplarin gets to his feet and rolls his neck and shoulders with lazy confidence. He has the build that every male shifter dreams of. Tall—at least for a wolf—broad through the shoulders, powerful in the chest and arms, with dark hair falling carelessly across his brow and skin with the same rich glow as his sister. Handsome too, with a square jaw and an easy smile that makes it clear he knows exactly what he is.

“Chelsea,” he says mildly.

She stiffens. “Mark, I was only—”

“She’s right. We were out of line.”

Chelsea’s mouth snaps shut.

Mark’s gaze remains on me, warm and assessing as he steps closer. “Kira Marsh, isn’t it?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

There is nothing intimidating in his stance, yet I suddenly feel flushed with so much male bulk standing before me.

“Mark Poplarin,” he says. “A pleasure.”

His handshake is brief but encompassing, his palm swallowing mine with effortless warmth.

“I have to say, that was well spoken, Kira. We mustn’t throw our weight around. It reflects poorly on us, and on wolves.”

“I wasn’t throwing anything around,” Chelsea mutters.

“Well,” Mark continues with solemn sincerity, “on behalf of the entire Poplarin pack—including my sister—I apologise.”

I raise my brows. “I’m not the one she insulted.”

Chelsea’s nostrils flare, but Mark’s mouth curves, seeming more amused than annoyed.

“No,” he agrees. “Of course not.”

He turns to Hannah and inclines his head. “On behalf of the entire Poplarin pack, I apologise.”

Hannah begins to tremble like a leaf. “Oh. I—err, accept. Thank you.”

A few of the Poplarins exchange amused looks, though no one laughs at her now.

“And perhaps we might reconsider your application to join,” Mark adds.

Hannah’s face breaks into a hopeful smile. “Truly?”

“Yes. Leave it with me. I’ll be in touch.”