Page 54 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

“Right,” I mutter, heat rising. Probably good advice.

She presses her lips together, trying not to smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t intend to get used to it.” The words slip out, hinting dangerously at my plans to escape.

Susie frowns at me, and I busy myself adjusting the socks, tugging them up as high as they go.

The blazer, at least, fits better than I expect, snug at the waist and shoulders, with red piping along the lapels, and it’s not in the least bit tight in the arms. I could fight in it if I had to.

“Right, how would you like to wear your hair?” Susie asks.

I usually wear it loose, but apparently, that isn’t Academy-approved.

“Pigtails?” she asks.

“Fuck no.”

She laughs and shows me how to plait it down my back. I don’t mention that I already know how. I don’t mind her fussing over me—though I have to bite my tongue when she weaves a red ribbon through it.

Finally, Susie smooths the shoulders of my blazer and steps back, eyes shining with odd satisfaction.

“There,” she says. “You look like one of us now.”

One of us.

The words grate down my spine.

“What do you think?” she presses, nodding at the mirrors above the sinks.

I pretend to look, but I focus on the chipped wooden frame instead. I have been careful not to look at my reflection since dressing. I do not need to see how neatly I have been transformed into a Volmasque wolf student.

“Looks good,” I say, though the words come out too thick. I clear my throat. “So. How about that tour?”

Susie perks up. “Yes. Of course. Let me show you the rest of the dorms first, and then we’ll head up.”

She leads me back to the stairwell and takes me to the lower dormitory levels for the second- and third-years—identical corridors as for my floor. I have to watch carefully to pick out the differences. A crack in one wall. A torch bracket bent slightly crooked. A faint dip in the stone floor near the second landing.

No common room.

There are students about now, though not many. Wolf shifters still in their pyjamas shuffle sleepily towards the bathroom, rubbing their eyes. Several greet Susie by name as they pass, and I reconsider her place here. She seems well liked. Respected, even.

A broad, dark-haired male wolf passes us shirtless, powerful muscles on display, his eyes barely open as he yawns.

“That’s Mark Poplarin, an alpha,” Susie whispers. “Leader of the Poplarins.”

“What’s that?” I ask, glancing back at the brawny wolf.

“One of the wolf packs. Most shifters join one.” Her voice quickens with excitement. “I started my own pack last year. We meet in the library every week for book club. Clara—I’ll introduce you to her later; she’s a third-year—always bakes biscuits. She volunteers in the kitchens, so they let her use the oven.”

“Biscuits,” I repeat.

“Yes. They’re really good. I don’t know what we’ll do next year when she graduates. None of us are on kitchen duty, and I’ve already taken on extra subjects…”

I frown faintly as she talks. It seems rude to point out that eating biscuits and discussing books does not sound particularly pack-like.

Access to the kitchens, however…now that could be useful.

On the way back up, Susie stops on the second floor to show me her room.