Page 46 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

“No,” he agrees.

“Afraid I’ll break it?”

“Afraid you’ll spend all night looking at yourself.”

That does it. I spin around, fists clenched.

“I suppose your reflection wouldn’t show up either.”

“It’s made vampires whose reflections cannot be seen,” he says.

My brows rise. “Bad news for your vanity, then.”

For a moment, he simply stares at me. Once again, I’ve implied the prince is a corpse animated by magic.

Something snaps in him, too. He pushes off the wall and crosses the room until my back hits the wardrobe, his frosty scent filling the space between us.

“For the record, Kira, I happen to sleep in a very large, very comfortable bed facing an equally large mirror.” He leans even closer, his pointed nose inches from touching mine. “And if you are ever so fortunate as to be bent over it, you’ll see my reflection quite clearly behind yours.”

The image flashes against my will. Me bent over his bed. Him behind me. The mirror reflecting both of us. Naked and panting and—

Heat twists through me, part anger, part something low and traitorous. I open my mouth with a retort ready, but then I stop and really look at him. His blue eyes are dull, his expression spent.

His threat has no bite.

“A large bed, huh?” I murmur, managing a faint smirk. “Well, at least something will be large.”

A breath of silence stretches between us.

Then he huffs a laugh and steps back, a glimmer returning to his eyes as he slides his hands into his pockets.

I don’t smile. Smiling would feel like camaraderie, like we are in on the same joke.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in,” he says.

“Wait,” I say, glancing at my torn shirt again. “Is there a bathhouse?”

“There’s a bathroom somewhere on this floor. Should be an unnumbered door.”

“Is the water safe to drink?”

“One would hope so.”

“Towels? Blankets? Pillow?” I ask, eyeing the bare bed. At least there’s a sheet to cover the thin mat.

“You’ll have to ask Susie about those in the morning.”

I would have asked her now, if he hadn’t dismissed her.

I sigh. “What’s your problem with her? She was only trying to help. Or are you just enjoying making this as unpleasant as possible for me?”

“Why can’t it be both?” He taps the doorframe. “Speaking of helpful advice. Your door locks when shut and will only open to your touch. No other student can enter. So. Unless you wish to be fed on, keep it closed while you sleep.”

A small knot loosens in my chest—then tightens at no other student can enter.

“What about teachers?” I ask.

“Normally, faculty members can enter student dormitories. Sometimes for academic reasons.” His gaze settles on me, and I don’t like the direction my thoughts immediately take. “However, there are only three people who can open this particular door. You—the occupant. The headmaster—naturally. Don’t worry. He has his hands full with Susie. He won’t be paying you a visit.”