Page 42 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Kira

The iron door groans open on ancient hinges, the sound long and low and miserable as it travels through stone and up my boots. Beyond it, a stairwell disappears down into pitch black. The stairs only go down. Even with my night vision, I can barely see past the third step. A cold, dank breath of air spirals up from its depths, ghosting over my skin.

Are the dorms underground?

“After you,” Nathaniel murmurs. “If you dare.”

I don’t move. Every instinct warns me to stay exactly where I am.

“Another trap?” I ask.

“Perhaps.”

“Oh, quit trying to scare her,” Susie snaps behind us. “No one enjoys your bullying, Nathaniel.”

“I enjoy it.” He sniffs indignantly.

Susie matches his sniff with one of her own as she pushes past him and loops her arm through mine. The gesture surprises me—I’m not the touchy-feely sort—but her warm presence steadies me.

“Don’t pay Nat any mind, Kira,” she says, leading me down the dank steps. A torch flares to life on the wall beside us, red flames leaping from the bracket to wash the rough stone in a deep red glow. A few steps ahead, another flickers to life. Then another. “He’s a cat who likes to play with his food.”

“Nat?” I ask incredulously, casting a glance over my shoulder at the visibly offended vampire following us down. His face is bathed in red, but the effect softens some of its aristocratic sharpness. “What happened to Prince Nathaniel?”

“His friends call him Nat,” she says.

“We are not friends,” he intones, his voice echoing through the stairwell so it rings behind and in front. “And my friends are your superiors.”

“Superior how?” she shoots back smugly. “None of them got an A+ in Literature.”

“Favouritism. Obviously.”

“Favouritism? Professor Marmala is a vampiress.” Susie laughs and looks at me, inviting me to join in. I can’t help but smile.

Nathaniel’s voice grows venomous. “It’s favouritism because none of them are sucking the headmaster’s cock.”

“I earned that grade,” Susie says determinedly, though her slight double chin wobbles, and her grey plume of a tail—which had been swaying behind her proudly—has lowered.

I want to defend her. But I’ve only been at the Academy for a few minutes. I don’t yet understand this place, or the strange people who inhabit it.

So instead, I tighten my hold on Susie’s arm. It is not much in the way of comfort, but she leans into me ever so slightly as we continue down the stairs, our arms linked in solidarity.

Down and down we go.

Susie sets a brisk pace, intent on putting distance between the prince and us. I lose sight of him around the sharp turns, though his footsteps follow us for a while. Then even those fade, until I can no longer see or hear him.

“So, are you the headmaster’s pet?” I ask Susie quietly, uncertain whether it’s a rude question.

Her fingers tug self-consciously at the collar, her smile small and cryptic. “Yes. I am.”

“When—err, how long have you been his pet?”

She pinches her lips and seems to take a long time to consider this. “It’s hard to say.” Then, after a pause, she adds, “It’s been going on for some time.”

I frown. “What has?”

This time, she takes even longer to answer, still tugging at her collar. “I didn’t want to wear this,” she confesses. “I tried to refuse it. But…it was hard to say ‘no’ to the headmaster. He was persuasive.”

My throat tightens. Suddenly, I’m too aware of the collar around my own neck, deceptively comfortable even as it marks me as something owned.