Page 172 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

A breathless snort escapes me. I scrub at my eyes with my sleeve. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

A small smile touches his mouth. “It may be that I am very, very relieved.” He opens his mouth, then seems to think better of whatever he intended to say. A moment later, he speaks anyway. “You were very brave.”

My breath catches. Then my shoulders begin to shake, fresh tears welling in my eyes.

“I wasn’t brave.” My voice breaks. “I nearly got myself killed. Then I had the chance to kill you, and I didn’t take it. How am I supposed to live with that shame?”

Something in his stare goes raw.

“You had the chance to die with me,” he says quietly. “That is not the same thing. Though I’m touched that you thought of me.”

“You scared me,” he murmurs, his voice so low the words rumble through his chest.

“Did I?” I ask weakly.

He nods.

I search his face in disbelief. I thought he would be angry that I had escaped him. Furious that I had removed the collar. Instead, he was terrified I would fall.

I do not know what to do with that knowledge.

There will be consequences for tonight. But right now, even those feel impossibly far away.

I am so tired. Every part of me aches.

He draws me a fraction closer.

My forehead falls against his shoulder, and it feels like surrender. A plea for comfort I cannot bring myself to voice. Only for a moment, I tell myself. Just long enough to breathe. My arms hang uselessly between us. I cannot bring myself to hold him.

Yet he is holding me.

We exhale together, and I turn my head slightly. Beneath my cheek, his heart pounds so fiercely that I feel every beat through his wet shirt.

Nathaniel draws me closer, slow and careful, folding his body around mine while the tower shelters us from the wind. One arm tightens around my waist. The other braces against the stone beside my head, enclosing me within the shallow recess.

For once, the cage of his arms does not feel like a trap. Instead, it feels deceptively close to safety.

“Is it really so terrible here?” he asks quietly. “That you would risk certain death?”

I lift my head. “What kind of question is that—is it really so terrible?”

The absurdity of the question is even more apparent with only a wall of stone separating us from Zott’s dreadful classroom and all its horrors.

He cants his head, not refuting the point. “Well.”

“And I would have made it if the conditions were favourable. The crosswind was appalling.”

A choked laugh moves through his chest. “Please don’t do that again.”

“You’re pleading again,” I observe huskily.

“Hmm.” His arms tighten around me, and the movement feels far too good.

I have never been held like this before. Not by a man. It feels forbidden. It makes me want to wrench myself free. It makes me want to stay. Instead, I pull away—not as much as I should, but enough that there’s nearly a foot of distance between us.

Nathaniel’s gaze moves past me to my wings. My left wing lies awkwardly along the gallery, trembling whenever a gust curls around the tower. His hand hovers near the swollen joint.

“Let me look at it.”