Page 157 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

It raises one hand and waves irritably through it.

What the hell?

Very carefully, I reach behind my neck and release the collar. I keep the leather looped around my throat with one hand, ready to fasten it again.

Magic rushes back into the world.

Mark and Chelsea Poplarin stand scarcely twenty feet from the vampire.

A curtain of strange, star-flecked mist hangs around them, dark as smoke yet glittering with tiny points of black light. I have never seen anything like it. Magic folds around their bodies, bending the world away from them. And they are smoking. Chelsea has one hand pressed over her mouth, stifling laughter as she hands a glowing red cigarillo to Mark.

He is grinning ear to ear at the made vampire. As I watch, he takes another drag and blows a slow stream of smoke directly towards it.

Chelsea elbows him viciously. Mark folds around the blow, lips clamped shut as smoke spills from his nose. A muffled sound escapes him anyway. The made vampire’s head snaps around and my heart stops. But it isn’t looking at them. Its narrowed gaze has fixed upon a stone statue of King Henrikk a few yards away, as though suspicious the King himself has taken up smoking.

Mark’s shoulders begin to shake again.

If I weren’t certain the only thing I can smell is tobacco, I’d suspect they were smoking something stronger. No one should have this much nerve.

The made vampire gives a dry hiss and stalks off in completely the wrong direction.

Mark’s grin widens.

I almost smile myself.

There is something annoyingly charming about the sheer arrogance of it.

The made vampire continues across the lawn. Ten feet. Twenty. Nearly gone.

I snap the collar shut, my sense of magic disappearing.

Mark and Chelsea do not vanish entirely. Now that I know where they are, I can still make out two hazy shadows beneath the archway, like shapes glimpsed through smoke.

Interesting.

I lift my hand to get their attention. They haven’t seen me yet. Chelsea has turned towards Mark, her face against her brother’s chest. Without warning, a giggle escapes her, and the made vampire whirls around.

I freeze as its blank white eyes find me, and a dry, rattling hiss escapes its throat.

Mark and Chelsea both turn towards me.

Oh, fuck. I run, tearing across the lawn, hearing movement behind me.

Far too fast.

Back to the castle. Now! I fling myself around the nearest hedge and find a narrow opening in the greenery. I plunge through it. Another turn. Then another. Dead end. Fuck…

Of course I have run into the bloody maze. I grab the hedge and try to climb. My foot sinks straight through the branches. Leaves thrash deafeningly around me, twigs scratching my hands and face. No. I drop back down and run the other way. Something rustles beyond the hedge.

Left. Right. Another dead end. I double back and finally burst from the maze onto the lawn, heart beating wildly as I flee like a panicked rabbit.

The made vampire has circled the hedge and is waiting at the far end. It begins walking towards me—fast. Unnaturally fast.

I bolt around the side of the castle. Its footsteps follow, running now, its feet uneven on the pebbles.

Thud-scrape. Thud-scrape. Thud-scrape.

It is gaining on me. There is no choice. I have to shift. My hand flies towards my collar—