Page 140 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Does that mean he knows about the Resistance too? What else does he know? I had meant to put the knife to his throat. Force him to remove the collar, then drive the blade home. But he is too fast for threats. If I show him the weapon before I strike, I will lose it.

No bargaining, then. Just one clean strike to the heart.

“I’m waiting,” he lilts. “Make up your mind. Suck it, or don’t.”

My voice comes out in a whisper. “And if I don’t?”

“You were the one who offered,” he reminds me, as though correcting a tiresome misunderstanding. He lifts my chin with two fingers, the touch deceptively gentle. “You may leave, of course. But if I were you, I wouldn’t squander an opportunity to please your future king.”

I jerk my head away. Every part of me screams to stand. To storm out. To spit in his face and damn the consequences. But then every preparation I have made will have been for nothing.

I might never get another chance like this. He doesn’t know about the blade waiting up my sleeve. He may know more than I realised, but he is not omniscient.

I draw a slow, shaking breath and turn my head back to him.

He is waiting. Half-undone, lounging in the chair like it’s his throne. His blond hair is disordered, his dark trousers open, his cock hard and glistening in the firelight even though I have barely touched him. His expression is both hungry and curious.

Forgive me, I plead silently to the old part of myself—the part that once swore I would die before doing something like this.

I lean in and press my lips carefully to the head. He is hot, heavier than I anticipated, the skin velvet-smooth and already wet.

It is a kiss. Perhaps not the kind he meant, but he demanded one, and now he’s had it. I glance up.

Nathaniel releases a controlled breath but says nothing. I linger long enough to let him believe that might be all I intended.

Then I open wide and take him into my mouth.

His breath shudders, his body tensing beneath my hands. Satisfaction flares through me at the knowledge that I can make him react this way.

I work slowly, uncertainly. My jaw stretches around the thickness of him. I try to remember the angles I saw in Zott’s class—the way the other girls used their tongues, the bobbing rhythm. It feels clumsy, much harder to keep my teeth out of the way than I expected, and saliva gathers quickly and threatens to spill.

I am surprised when his hand combs through my loosened hair and settles at the back of my head. More surprised by how good the slow drag of his fingers feels against my scalp before they tighten.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

I freeze, lifting my eyes.

He watches me from the armchair, the sharp planes of his face catching the firelight while the rest of him disappears into darkness.

“I didn’t say stop. Continue.”

I obey, swallowing more of him as he watches me. For several long seconds, he simply observes the way my mouth stretches around him, the uncertain movements of my tongue, the way I keep adjusting.

I’m so focused on doing it right that I’m startled when amusement touches his expression.

“This truly is your first time taking a man in your mouth, isn’t it?” he asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I draw back just enough to speak, my voice rough. “What?”

“Because,” he says, using his hold in my hair to guide the head of his cock back against my closed lips, “it is called sucking cock for a reason.”

I wrench myself away just far enough to protest. “I know. That’s what I was—”

“Then suck.”

The command is quiet. When I finally open my mouth, he eases himself between my lips—but he does not stop there. He pushes deeper and deeper, steadily forcing his cock into my mouth until the head presses against the back of my throat. Spit spills from the corners of my lips as I struggle around him.

I try to pull away, but he holds me in place.