Page 81 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

The fire is too hot, and whatever Arken has poured into my glass is too sweet. I’m sitting in his armchair close to the hearth anyway, elbows braced on my knees, the glass in one hand, the other closed around Kira’s locket until its edges bite into my palm. Heat pushes against my face, my chest, the backs of my hands. If I sit here long enough, perhaps it will burn the day from me. Perhaps it will burn her frightened face from my mind.

“Oh, Nathaniel,” Arken sighs from his armchair on the other side of the fire.

I do not remember him sitting down. Nor asking for his sympathy.

“Don’t,” I say. “Just don’t.”

“You should not have let her see the assembly hall so soon.”

“Let? I did not let her do anything.”

“I thought you were keeping an eye on her.”

“I was.” The fire spits. “I was simply…otherwise occupied.”

“Wooing Victoria?”

I sigh irritably. “If you know, then why do you ask?”

“I am simply making a point. We both know which woman matters more.”

“Keeping the king satisfied matters more,” I snap.

“That will be you one day.”

“Good grief. Must you remind me?”

Arken’s gaze drifts to the innocuous wardrobe beside his desk, the mahogany doors motionless and still.

“In any case, it appears Kira’s first day was quite illuminating…for both of you.”

I narrow my eyes at him over the rim of my glass. “You are shrewd, Arken. No one ever says so, but you are.”

He steeples his fingers, that maddeningly calm smile gracing his features. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“Spare me.” I turn the locket over once more before closing my fist around it. I sigh. “This was never meant to be so difficult.”

“Did you think it would be easy?”

“No. But she’s so infuriatingly stubborn.”

He lifts a silver brow. “Apologies—which young lady are you referring to?”

I shoot him an unimpressed look. He knows perfectly well which young lady I mean. The one that has complicated my life in more ways than she can imagine.

Arken takes a slow sip from his glass, the rim doing little to conceal the smile he thinks he’s hiding. I take another swallow of my own and finally taste it properly.

I frown at the goblet. “What in Henrikk’s name are we drinking?”

“Blackcurrant cordial.”

I stare at him. “Blackcurrant cordial?”

“You may recall I no longer drink.”

“It’s times like these I wish you did.” I take another suspicious sip. “It’s appalling.”

“Do not change the subject.”