Page 133 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

His gaze cuts to me.

I give him my best wounded look.

It doesn’t seem to move him. Well, boo-hoo.

“She also says you collared her,” Victoria seethes. “I heard her say it. Everyone in the dining hall heard. As though that was not humiliating enough, you told me she was lying!”

“No,” Nathaniel replies coolly. “I said she was confused.”

“Confused? I felt like such a fool in front of my friends. And clearly you take me for a fool as well if you expect me to believe that you collared her—”

“I did collar her.” The interruption is quiet, but it stops Victoria completely.

Nathaniel folds the letter with a sigh and tosses it on his desk, as though finally accepting that this disaster requires his full attention.

“As I told you, I merely collared her on behalf of her Master,” he says patiently.

My fingers tighten around the coat.

“Her Master,” Victoria repeats sceptically. “You still haven’t told me who—”

“Because he is a nobleman who prefers to remain anonymous until she is sufficiently trained to be presented without embarrassment.” Nathaniel picks up the decanter. “Assuming he does not reconsider. That will depend upon whether Miss Marsh can demonstrate even a brief period of consistent good behaviour.”

His eyes flick towards me.

I bow my head demurely. We both know there is no such man. Yet.

“Her enrolment was mishandled,” he continues. “Someone had to correct it.”

“And that someone had to be you?” Victoria asks.

“Yes. The enforcer who was meant to fetch her met an untimely death—in an alleyway of all things.” He spins the lie so neatly it’s unnerving. The only tell is that he doesn’t look at either of us as he pulls the stopper from the decanter and pours himself a measure of rum, the smell of spice reaching me across the room. The glass is empty almost as soon as it reaches his mouth. “The collar, her admission, her room—every part of my involvement with Miss Marsh is administrative. It has consumed several afternoons I will never recover.”

He drops into one of the armchairs and takes another drink.

I fight to keep my face smooth. He speaks as though discussing a blocked drain, but I am thoroughly entertained by watching him navigate a confrontation that isn’t with me.

Victoria looks between us, desperate to believe him. Then her gaze drops to the roses in my hands.

She snatches the bouquet and thrusts it towards him like a weapon. Petals and tiny paper flowers spill across his lap and drift to the rug beneath his feet. “And these? What are these?”

Nathaniel blinks at the monstrous bouquet. Then his eyes narrow on the swan nestled proudly amongst the roses. “A swan,” he observes.

Victoria plucks it free and brandishes it. “Yes, Nathaniel—a swan! Tell me, why don’t I get a fucking swan?”

Nathaniel peers at the bird, and I can almost see his mind working.

“As a concept, it had potential. The execution…” His gaze rises slowly to mine.

I feel a grin threatening to form and quickly lower my eyes.

“I thought it somewhat tacky,” he finishes.

“That’s not the point!” Victoria cries, a faint whine entering her voice. “Why are you giving Kira flowers?”

“Leftovers,” he says indifferently. “The blooms were not of sufficient quality to give to you, and it was too late to reject the delivery. I told Miss Marsh to dispose of them. Clearly, she did not.”

“No?” A disbelieving laugh tears from Victoria. She throws the bouquet into the fire where it’s quickly consumed by flames. “Well, maybe she forgot because you were busy kissing her!”