Page 162 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

My claws tighten around the king, praying the chain doesn’t creak, and that Nathaniel doesn’t look up.

“Come out,” he calls. “I know you’re here.”

Fuck.

Double fuck.

How—?

No. He cannot know. He suspects, maybe. But he doesn’t know.

Nathaniel crosses the hall slowly, looking left and right as he searches between the benches. I draw myself higher behind King Bakker, climbing as silently as I can, careful not to rattle the heavy chain. If I can somehow get across and reach the canopy again, I might disappear among the ceiling of pelts before Nathaniel thinks to look above him.

Halfway down the aisle, almost directly beneath me, he stoops.

When he straightens, the collar hangs from his hand.

My heart lurches.

He knows.

“Kira.” His voice is sharper now.

Shit.

I have to reach the doors before he sees me. Before he blocks my exit. I dare not attack him while he holds the collar.

Why the hell did I leave it on the floor?

With no chains around me to impede my wings, I spread them wide—only for one talon to snag the king’s crown and swipe it loose.

Silver flashes through the air as the crown spins across the room and strikes the dais with a deafening clang.

Nathaniel whirls towards the sound, dropping into a fighter’s crouch. He stares at the dais. Then he looks up, and our eyes meet.

His lips part in surprise. “What—”

I leap off King Bakker, his body swinging behind me as I plummet towards the floor.

At the last instant, my wings snap wide. I swoop low over the central aisle, close enough that Nathaniel lunges for me as I whip past.

His fingers miss.

The hall streaks past in a blur of crimson light and dark stone. I careen its length in an instant. For several glorious seconds, I am not clumsy or trapped or collared. And I am much, much faster than him.

Too fast.

The great doors rush towards me.

Open!

The command tears through my mind on impulse.

The doors fly apart.

At the last instant, I tuck my wings as tight as I can against my sides.

I visualise my landing: wings folding cleanly, belly skimming the smooth floor of the antechamber, momentum carrying me safely beyond his reach.