Page 35 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Its mouth stretches into something like a smile, wide and wrong, skin creaking as it pulls.

“Then no one will mind,” it breathes, “if I take a turn first.”

One grey hand fists in my tunic and wrenches. Pain stings as fabric tears at the shoulder, the cold night air hitting bare skin.

“Stop!”

Nathaniel’s command rings through the alley. For a heartbeat, I think I’ve imagined it, because the creature doesn’t react.

“I order you to stop!”

Its head jerks slightly, as though something deep inside it recognises the authority behind the words. Then its attention snaps back to me, and its fangs descend.

Terror floods me. I thrash, trying to wrench free—

A blur of movement. A flash of silver.

The creature jerks violently as a blade buries itself into the side of its neck. It emits a high, gurgling shriek that pierces the night before its grip falls away.

Then it collapses.

I stumble sideways as it drops, my legs giving out beneath me, and hit the ground hard, chest heaving. The silver blade remains lodged in its neck, silvery vapour hissing angrily from the wound. The creature convulses once, twice, its grey flesh congealing like cooling wax before hardening over its skull. Cracks spread across its face, its skin flaking away.

Then the entire body shatters, ash spilling across the cobblestones.

I can only stare at where the made vampire had been. Gone in an instant.

I look up.

Nathaniel stands several paces away, shoulders heaving from the run, his breathing low and ragged. A confusing rush of relief hits me first, followed almost immediately by a surge of resentment. He may have saved me, but he is also the reason I needed saving.

Even more confusingly…

“You killed it,” I splutter. “You killed—and it’s disappeared—”

“A silver blade.” He stoops to pick up the gleaming blade from the pile of ash, which is already drifting away as if carried by an invisible wind. The dagger appears clean, and he doesn’t wipe it before storing it somewhere inside his coat. “Steel kills vampires, made or born. But silver can completely undo the dark magic holding a made vampire together, leaving no corpse.” He nudges the dwindling pile of ash with the toe of his shoe, sending another puff of dust spiralling away. “Conveniently less messy to clean up.”

I stare. “So why do you carry silver? I thought there were only a few made vampires left. That they were incredibly valuable to the king—”

His expression darkens, and I stop talking. “There are plenty enough remaining for you to not feel complacent. As for the silver blade, I carry one in case one of these creatures forgets itself.”

I glance at the empty space where the made vampire had been. “It disobeyed you.”

“Not exactly.” His voice cools. “It recognised the order. They are extremely obedient. But once they fix upon something, changing course can be difficult.” His jaw tightens. “Delayed obedience.”

He glowers at me, and my stomach drops as he advances a step, towering completely over me, so I have to crane my neck up to see his face. His voice is a low, dangerous hiss as he asks, “Do you have any idea what just nearly happened?”

My shock fades, giving way to anger. “Yes,” I snap. “It nearly bit me.”

His expression turns almost contemptuous. “Bit you? You think it merely wanted to feed from you?”

His gaze drifts downward, and I dare take my eyes off him long enough to glance down at myself.

My tunic hangs in tatters. The tear doesn’t stop at the collar—it slices all the way down the front, leaving my stomach and waist exposed to cold air, the shape of my breasts barely concealed by the faded wrapping bound across my chest. Even the belt securing my tunic with its empty sheaths is ruined.

Heat floods my face as I clutch the torn fabric together.

I know the stories. What made vampires did during the Takeover of Wintermaw Keep. The slaughter of the royal family and their courtiers. The nightlong rapes committed by made vampires as the Vampire King lounged on his throne.