Page 80 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

He stops at the foot of the dais and wheels me around to face it. The throne rises above us, carved from dark wood and polished bone, its high back crowned with a wolf’s skull.

“Do you see it?”

I manage a nod.

“That skull belongs to one of your diplomats. A pacifist, I believe. Unfortunately, he was unable to sway my father.”

“You’re a monster,” I choke.

“An astute observation.” His hand remains knotted in my shirt, holding me close. Too close. His face lowers until there is almost no space left between us, his breath warm against my cheek. “Yet you continue to provoke me, despite my ample warnings. So…here is the final one.”

My whole body is shaking now.

“No more fun and games,” he breathes, each word spoken with deliberate care. “If I catch you breaking another rule in this school, I will bend you over that throne and mount you until you scream. And when I am finished, I will take what little fur you have and mount you to the wall with the rest of them. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

I nod before I decide to. Quickly, and many times.

“Y-yes,” I say. “Yes.”

“Good.” He releases me. “Now get out.”

I don’t remember choosing to run. I am reaching for the floor to catch myself, and suddenly I am across the hall, shouldering the red doors open and fleeing into a corridor that feels far too bright after that room.

There is no stopping. I tear through the foyer like a frightened animal, past students spilling out from dinner, past faces that turn to stare. Someone says my name. I don’t turn to see who.

Through the iron door to the dormitories. Down the stone steps, one after another.

By the time I reach my room, my chest aches from dragging air into it.

I stumble inside, slam the door closed and drag the desk across the floor. The heavy wood scrapes in protest, but I keep going until it is jammed beneath the handle.

Then I stand and listen.

No footsteps.

No knock.

Nothing.

Logically, I did not expect the prince to follow, but my body does not care. I pace back and forth in the small space, my hands still shaking, my breath refusing to steady. Every nerve in me remains fixed on the door, waiting for the handle to turn.

Eventually, I am calm enough to sit on the edge of the bed Susie made up for me, dimly registering the pillows and generous pile of blankets there. My brown school shoes remain laced as I stare at the door until my eyes stop focusing. Hatred sits in my chest like something with claws. But beneath it, worse than it, is fear. And that scares me more than the prince does.

I never thought of myself as someone who was afraid. Yet I have felt more fear and more anger in the past day than I have in my entire life. Without undressing, I lie down and think of the Resistance. My family. My friends. My kin. Byron. Mary. Ana. Even Dren, pompous ass though he is.

I miss them all.

Then I think of the royal family. Of the way we spoke of that bygone era at Resistance meetings, with pride swelling in our chests as we sang the old anthem quietly beneath our breath, hidden behind closed doors where no one could hear us and report us for remembering. Not that most humans would understand or involve themselves in the Capital’s politics, but vampire spies were everywhere, even in the villages.

I wish I had my locket so I could play it. I am convinced it would raise my spirits. My lips part to hum the melody, but no sound comes out. I exhale tiredly. The fear has moved through me now, but it has taken something with it. Not my hatred, nor my will, but something softer—the fragile, foolish part of me that still believed the Resistance could win. That we could claw our way back from this. That the Vampire King could be overthrown by enough courage, enough rage, enough wolves willing to die with their teeth bared. But the task is too monumental, our dead too many. The ceiling is already full.

My eyes droop low. Perhaps only fools would try. I know because I was one of them once. Part of a mission to assassinate the king. Our last attempt, and we were so sure of our victory. It did not go well.

I curl onto my side, one hand locked around the collar, and wait for morning. It will be a long time coming.

Chapter 14

Nathaniel