Page 9 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

She is stunning.

Her furred tail slashes the air, much longer than a wolf’s, the silver strands tapering behind her into a sleek, whip-like line, the tip fanning lightly like a feather.

And her eyes…

They blaze brighter than they had in human form, casting a faint glow across the floorboards.

I realise I am staring. Marvelling, no less, at this impossible creature. It’s an indulgence I would normally never grant myself with anyone.

Then she tries to rip my throat out.

I barely have time to react as she springs, darkness hurtling towards me.

I dodge just in time.

Her talons rake my ear, hot droplets raining down my neck as I slam back into the wall beside the door. She lands lightly nearby and pounces again.

She’s fast. Almost as fast as me.

Blade-like claws whistle past my face. I catch one forelimb, meaning to throw her off balance, but she twists in the air with impossible fluidity, jaws snapping inches from my throat.

I release her and slip sideways instead, letting her momentum carry her past me.

She skids across the rug, nearly colliding with the witch, who presses herself into the corner in her chair, knitting still clutched in both hands, tracking the fight with grave eyes.

I take a step towards her, meaning to pull her clear of the fight, but the wolf pivots and launches at me with panther-like grace, claws bared.

She’s relentless.

I dart away, narrowly avoiding another slash and grab the first thing within reach—the faded curtain draped across the witch’s sewing table. The cloth tugs free, loose in my hands.

The wolf’s attention roves past me to the witch, who has risen halfway from her chair, one hand lifted—whether to calm the wolf or shield herself, I cannot tell.

“Sit,” I order, and the witch sinks down again.

The wolf’s attention whips back to me. It’s obvious what she sees in this moment—an old woman held prisoner, and me, the monster standing between her and the door.

She’s not exactly wrong.

A warning growl tears from her throat, hackles raised as she bares long, sharp fangs at me—distinctly wolfish, though far more vicious.

“Well,” I say, half laughing despite the danger, “that’s certainly more teeth.”

And if looks could kill…

She leaps.

I fling the drape straight at her. I mean for it to block her vision, but she’s already charging at me, and the billowing cloth falls across her back as she slams into me. We crash across the floor in a violent tangle of limbs and claws, the breath knocked out of me, her talons scrabbling across the floorboards and ripping at my overcoat as she thrashes beneath the curtain, her weight pinning my left arm and crushing my chest.

It’s no good. I’ll never take her like this. At this rate I may end up dead for my troubles.

It takes every scrap of strength I possess to wrench myself far enough from beneath her to seize her by the throat. I bare my fangs, intending to end the struggle the simplest way a vampire knows how. But she sees what I’m doing and twists violently out of my grasp before my teeth can find their mark.

Air returns to my lungs as her weight lifts off me.

She tries to bolt, powerful legs compressing as she orients towards the window.

I can’t let her escape.