Page 40 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

There, tucked in the shadows, I see them.

“How entirely unsurprising,” I mutter to myself, quiet enough that they cannot hear.

Headmaster Arken has Susie pressed to the stone wall, her tartan school skirt shoved up over her waist, a gold collar glittering at her throat. One of Arken’s hands is tangled in her long strawberry-blonde hair, the other fixed at her hip as he moves against her with slow, deliberate control. Her wolf tail is lifted high, trembling.

She is a shifter unlike any other, trapped mostly in human form, save for those pointed wolf ears and that silvery-grey tail. Perhaps that is the appeal for Arken. A broken thing for him to keep.

In any case, I’d rather not see either of them like this.

Kira recoils beside me, her expression caught somewhere between shock and horror. She looks ready to bolt.

My hand closes around her wrist, and I draw her forward into full view, letting my boots ring loud on the marble to announce our presence.

“Is this our welcome party?” I drawl.

Arken glances over his shoulder, looking mildly surprised at best. “Nathaniel,” he greets, completely unabashed.

He is only six years my senior, yet his short hair, parted loosely and swept back from his face, is almost entirely silver, with only a few strands of chestnut remaining. It lends him an older air, made worse by the hexagonal, silver-framed spectacles currently slipping down his nose. He shares my height, though he has a broader build, which I can mercifully see very little of. He is fully dressed, albeit in a state of disarray: tweed trousers and leather belt undone, a deep purple nightrobe hanging loose over a half-fastened shirt.

Susie does not acknowledge me. Her gaze stays fixed ahead, cheeks flushed even in the dim light, her body held taut—waiting for him to finish.

“Are you quite done?” I ask Arken.

“Just a moment.” He turns back to her without hurry.

There is no performance in it on his part. He is genuinely besotted, the fool. I examine a painting while I wait, while Kira stands rigid in my hold, unable to look away.

It is not long before he finishes. I do not pay attention to the particulars.

Arken straightens, giving Susie a lingering, indulgent pat at the hip. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand resting there a moment before he steps back.

He tucks himself away with unhurried ease and turns to us at last, as though we have interrupted nothing more than idle conversation.

“Well,” he says in that deep, measured voice, languid as if he has all the time in the world. His gaze slides to Kira, then back to me. “You finally made it.”

Kira clearly wants to be anywhere else but here, yet her eyes stay fixed on Susie, who is attempting to restore some dignity to her appearance.

“Really, must you fornicate with the students in the foyer?” I ask Arken coolly.

He exhales, faintly amused. “Not students,” he corrects. “Only Susie.”

My eyes slide to her. Flushed, breathing uneven, yet composed enough to hang on every word as she straightens her skirt.

Only then do I acknowledge her.

“Susie.”

She lifts her chin. “Nathaniel.”

“Prince Nathaniel,” I remind her, mostly to needle her and Arken. “I see your tireless efforts to improve wolf-vampire relations continue. Such remarkable progress.”

A flush crawls higher up her neck.

“Nathaniel—” Arken begins.

“A second-year wolf pet and the headmaster,” I continue, unable to help the acid in my voice. “Equality at last.”

Kira looks between us with wide eyes.