Page 106 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Hannah thanks him profusely before hurrying away.

I stay where I am, crossing my arms as I face Mark. “Application?”

“A little paperwork.” His smile turns faintly teasing. “We are quite exclusive, you know. I could give you a form, if you’re interested.”

“No, thank you. I hate paperwork.”

A few sniggers break out behind him. To his credit, Mark does not seem to mind. He strokes his chin as though considering me properly, and I become horribly conscious of how large he is. Not as tall as a vampire, but still…I’ve never seen so much muscle on display, even with his button-up shirt. I wonder if that’s why he’s not wearing a blazer. It probably wouldn’t fit him.

He clears his throat, and I suck in a breath, embarrassed I’ve been caught staring.

But he’s frowning at my collar.

“Ah,” he says. “I see you’re already spoken for. What a shame. I might have tried harder to tempt you otherwise. We could use some of that fierceness.”

My interest wanes. Everyone seems to be interested in putting each other into boxes around here. Still, I lift my chin and offer Mark a saccharine smile.

“Speaking of fierceness…I do hope you give Hannah’s application the weight it deserves.”

The words come out with a polished lilt I hate at once. It’s just the sort of inflection Nathaniel would use to bully someone. But it seems to work.

Mark’s smile deepens. “You can count on it.”

I turn and walk away, feeling his gaze between my shoulder blades all the way back to Susie’s circle.

As I sit down, another awareness prickles over my skin. My gaze flicks towards the tier above.

Nathaniel is watching me from Victoria’s table, one slender hand resting beside another abandoned bouquet of roses.

His expression doesn’t give anything away. I hope mine doesn’t either.

My next attempt to acquire a weapon unfolds during Etiquette.

I slip out more boldly this time, carrying a tea tray towards the courtyard where the vampire students spar. Madame Perfinette watches me with pinched suspicion as I head for the door, but I move briskly enough that by the time she calls after me, I can pretend not to hear.

I walk fast, a ridiculous scampering run that makes the porcelain rattle on the tray.

Two teacups smash on the way.

“Oops,” I murmur, ignoring the distant shouts of Madame Perfinette growing louder as I peer through one of the lattice openings.

The prince is not in the training yard.

Good.

I hurry forward.

Victoria is there, along with Felix and several of their friends, all flushed and laughing from sparring. They stare when I approach with the tray.

“Refreshments, anyone?” I ask in a high voice.

“You only brought four cups,” Felix observes as I pour.

“So I did,” I muse, glancing over my shoulder. No sign of Madame Perfinette yet. “Feel free to fight to the death for them.”

Victoria takes a cup, sips, then makes a face. “What kind of tea is this?”

“The expensive kind,” I say primly, “as I’m sure you recognise. Favoured by the king.”