Page 187 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Chelsea laughs, sharp and incredulous enough to turn several heads. “You cannot be serious!”

“I am.”

Mark studies me with warm interest. “What brought on this change of heart?”

I lower my voice. “The wand you used to conceal us.”

His expression stills, and his gaze flicks around the antechamber.

“I did not realise the Poplarins had access to magic like that,” I say lightly, watching his face.

“What business is it of yours?” Chelsea snaps.

I keep my attention on Mark. “None. Yet. But I admit, the wand made me curious whether the Poplarins have any other tricks worth seeing.”

Mark’s mouth curves into a lopsided smile, white teeth flashing. “There is plenty I could show you.”

“Such as…?”

Chelsea clears her throat sharply.

His smile doesn’t fade, but he gives the smallest shrug. “Naturally, you would have to join us first.” His gaze drifts over me before settling upon my collar. “Although I was under the impression you were unavailable. Claimed.”

I cross my arms. “I am not claimed. The prince fastened it, but he is not my Master.”

Chelsea’s mouth twists. “It makes no difference. We do not accept collared wolves.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she says, “we are not in the habit of stealing another person’s property—or accepting wolves who’ve submitted to vampires.”

“Funny, I would have thought the greatest show of strength is stealing a vampire’s property. Unless your reputation is mostly for show…?”

Chelsea huffs and tries to steer Mark away, but he stands firm. Instead, he leans a shoulder against the stone archway and folds his muscular arms across his chest, regarding me with open appraisal.

“I am not property,” I say, addressing him alone.

His voice lowers into something intimate. “Suppose the collar were not an obstacle. Do you understand what joining us would require?”

“An initiation,” I say.

“Yes.” His gaze remains fixed upon mine. “You would have to give yourself to us completely. To submit to leadership. It involves—”

“Sex,” Chelsea says flatly.

Heat blooms across my cheeks. “Yes. I know.” At least, I know enough. Even so, our conversation seems unpleasantly loud in the busy antechamber.

Chelsea narrows her eyes. “Aren’t you already trailing after what’s-her-name’s pack? Susie’s? Why not ask them? I am sure they would accept you. They seem to accept anybody.”

The superiority of her tone makes my skin prickle. “No,” I say. “I want to join this one.”

“Have you ever been with anyone?” Mark asks suddenly.

The heat in my face intensifies. I consider lying, but I doubt I could make it convincing. If I am accepted, my inexperience will be obvious soon enough.

I shake my head. “No. Never.”

Something changes in Mark’s expression, and his gaze drops to my mouth before travelling slowly over my body. It lingers upon the strip of bare thigh between my skirt and socks. When his eyes return to mine, they hold a heat that has nothing to do with pack politics.