Page 135 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

“I did not instruct her to parade anywhere.”

“She told her professor you ordered her to wear it—”

“Enough.” Nathaniel rises and holds out his hand to me again. “The coat.”

I have barely shrugged it from my shoulders before he snatches it from my hands.

“Now get out.”

“Yes, sir,” I say sweetly.

Gladly.

As I turn towards the door, Victoria speaks again. “We are not finished.”

“Yes, we are,” Nathaniel says.

“No, we are not! I am going to stay here until you explain exactly why you thought humiliating me was an acceptable response to—”

I close the door behind me.

Her voice rises immediately, shrill enough to carry through the thick stone walls. “How dare you—do not turn your back on me, Nathaniel! I have endured your indifference for long enough—”

His response is too low for me to make out, but whatever it is results in another shrieking response from his fiancée.

Satisfied, I hurry away. The longer she keeps him occupied, the more time I have to prepare—and the more thoroughly she will have frayed his patience by the time I return.

Chapter 21

Kira

Ido not venture far.

I go to the women’s bathroom at the end of the same corridor. Classes are still underway, so the hallway is deserted, and I have the bathroom to myself. I face the row of mirrors stretching above the sinks.

Since arriving at the Academy, I have avoided my reflection. Whenever I catch it, I see the same thing: shadows beneath my eyes, my hair confined to a neat plait instead of hanging free, and a collar that makes me look as though I belong here.

I force myself to keep looking. To loosen my tight jaw. This is not surrender. It is the price of freedom.

The rouge is still in my blazer pocket, where it has been since I took it from Victoria’s vanity without knowing why I wanted it. I unscrew the small jar and press the rosy mauve onto my lips with a fingertip.

It should not transform me, this small smear of paint. But it does. It makes my mouth look fuller. Bolder and lush enough to hold the eye. The colour draws out the gold in my eyes and highlights the angles of my cheekbones until my whole face looks more sensual.

My plait comes loose beneath my fingers, and I shake my hair free, letting it fall around my shoulders in dark soft waves.

Then I stare at my reflection. Am I allowed to call myself beautiful? Not beautiful like Victoria, polished and expensive and constructed to be admired.

Something rougher than that. Something threatening enough to make a prince look twice. The paring knife goes into my left sleeve, where I have practised drawing it a hundred times. One way or another, I am leaving with his blood on my hands.

I return to the dead-end passage and squeeze into the shallow recess behind the tapestry. The stone presses cold against my spine. While I’m waiting, I use my finger to worm a peephole through the fraying fibres.

A few minutes later, Nathaniel’s door flies open.

Victoria storms into the corridor, white-faced and furious.

“You cannot keep treating this like a joke,” she snaps over her shoulder. “I will speak to your father myself if I have to.”

Nathaniel appears in the doorway behind her. For once, he looks openly angry.