Page 163 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

That is not what happens.

My right wing clears the doorway.

My left does not.

The hooked joint strikes the hardwood door frame with a crack that explodes through my entire body.

A howl tears from me as pain erupts from shoulder to wingtip, the impact spinning me sideways. I hit the antechamber floor on one shoulder, tumble end over end across the polished stone, and come to rest in a heap of scaled limbs and half-folded wings.

For one stunned heartbeat, the ceiling wheels above me.

“Kira!”

I lift my head. Nathaniel is already down the aisle and running towards the doors.

This time, I know what I am doing.

Shut.

The doors slam in his face.

Nathaniel jerks to a stop.

A wild thrill shoots through me.

I dare one more command.

Lock.

A metallic click answers me, followed by the pounding of Nathaniel’s fists against the door.

I scramble upright and lunge towards the corridor. I don’t know how long that will hold him. Probably long enough for him to remember to say ‘please’. I tuck my right wing in, but the left drags before I wrench it against my side, agony pulsing through the joint. Just a strain, I think as I run to reach the foyer and race up the grand staircase.

I have to reach Arken’s balcony.

Halfway to the second floor, I hear Nathaniel’s voice echoing somewhere through the castle.

Guess he remembered his manners.

I climb faster, my claws scrabbling uselessly upon the polished steps.

I reach the third floor and charge down the corridor towards Arken’s office. At least I have shaken Nathaniel. He cannot possibly know where I am. I force the handle down with one paw and burst inside—and skid to a stop, wrinkling the rug beneath my claws.

Arken is awake behind his desk—and behind him are the balcony doors. He’s wearing a night robe over flannel pyjamas, spectacles low upon his nose and a ledger open before him. He blinks as his gaze travels over my scaled limbs, silver-tipped ruff and black wings.

For the barest instant, naked shock crosses his face. Then he closes the ledger and rises with remarkable composure. “Kira,” he says mildly. “This is unexpected.”

My sides heave, my gaze wary as I watch him rise from his desk. He moves with deliberate grace towards a shelf bearing a crystal decanter and several glasses, placing himself neatly between me and the balcony doors.

“Whatever has brought you here,” he continues, “I suggest we discuss it in a civilised manner. Won’t you sit down? I can offer you tea—or brandy, if you prefer?”

He must think I’m an idiot.

Yet for one dangerous moment, his calm almost persuades me.

“If something has happened, I would much rather hear your side of the matter,” he says evenly. “And answer any questions you may have. Perhaps I can help?”

My pulse stutters. He’s a vampire. This is calculated.