02:10. “Then why is her heart beating at human speed, Damian?” The question hung in the air like a blade. Alistair was still breathing in at Elspeth’s throat. Inhaling. Testing. I could feel her pulse under my palm. Rabbit-fast. Panic-fast. Human-fast. If he heard it, he’d know. He’d know about the warehouse. About the music. About the three hours. He’d take her hands. Then mine. My brain ran through 14 exits. All of them ended in blood. So I chose the 15th. The one that would cost me the most. I smiled. Not the CEO smile. Not the neutral smile. The monster smile. “Because she’s terrified of me,” I said. I let my voice drop. Let it go rough. Let it go like it did when I was on the council floor and I wanted someone to bleed. “Aren’t you, pet?” The word _pet_ made Elspeth’s breath catch. Alistair pulled back an inch. Watching. I turned her in my hands. Slow. Like she weighed nothing. Like she was glass. She was shaking. I could feel it through the thin sweater. “Look at me,” I told her. She did. Her eyes were huge. Wet. She was doing the doll thing again. Head down. Compliant. But I needed more than compliant. I needed convincing. I needed Alistair to believe that the only reason her heart was beating was because I was the one making it beat. I leaned in. My mouth went to the hollow of her collarbone. And I bared my fangs. Not out. Never out. Sheathed. Safe. But she could feel them. The cold. The pressure. The threat. The entire room seemed to drop in temperature. “Does it hurt?” I whispered. Just for her. Just loud enough for him to hear. “When I’m this close?” She shivered. It ran through her whole body. From her shoulders down to her bare feet. “Y-yes,” she whispered. The right answer. The terrified answer. “Good,” I said. And I pressed my mouth harder against her skin. No bite. Just the promise of one. I felt it then. That thing I hadn’t felt in 100 years. A thud. Inside my chest. Once. Violent. Wrong. Dead. My own heart. Reacting to her. To the smell of her fear and rosin and rain. To the way her pulse was hammering against my lips. _No._ I pulled back. Elspeth’s skin was unmarked. Perfect. But she was flushed. Breathing hard. Alistair was watching us. His eyes went from my mouth, to her neck, to her hands that were gripping my jacket now. Not pushing away. Clinging. “Interesting,” he said. He walked a slow circle around us. Like he was appraising art. Like he was appraising livestock. “You’ve always had that effect, haven’t you, Kade?” he said. “The cold king. Women melt. Men break. Even my daughter.” He stopped. Picked up the glass of blood-wine from the table. Sniffed it. “1947. Expensive taste for a babysitter.” “It’s not babysitting,” I said. I kept my arm around Elspeth. Kept my hand on her hip like I owned it. “It’s containment. You said you wanted her controlled. She’s controlled.” “Is she?” Alistair set the glass down. Too hard. He reached out and took Elspeth’s chin. Turned her face to his. “Did he scare you?” he asked her. Elspeth glanced at me. I gave her nothing. No cue. No help. This had to be her choice. “Y-yes,” she said finally. Voice tiny. “He’s... he’s very cold, Father.” Alistair’s thumb brushed her cheek. “And did you like it?” Elspeth’s face went blank. The mask. The Vance mask. “I did what I was told,” she said. Perfect. Alistair studied her for a long, terrible moment. Then he dropped his hand. He looked at me. “You’re lying,” he said. My blood went to ice again. “But,” he continued, “you’re lying in the way I expected you to lie.” He walked to the vanity. Opened the top drawer. Pulled out something. Silver. He tossed it. It landed on the marble with a sound like a bell. A collar. Thin. Delicate. Cruel. Engraved with the Vance crest. “Put this on her before tomorrow’s gala,” Alistair said. Elspeth made a sound. Small. I didn’t look at it. I kept my eyes on Alistair. “What is it?” I asked. “Control,” he said. “It chokes if her heart rate goes above a certain threshold. Panic. Excitement. Running. It will remind her whose property she is.” Property. The word hit like a fist. “Of course,” I said. My voice didn’t shake. “It will look beautiful with her dress.” Alistair nodded. Satisfied. He walked to the door. Stopped. “One more thing, Damian.” “Yes?” “If I find out you’ve developed a taste for her that goes beyond business...” He tapped the silver knife on his belt. “I won’t kill you. I’ll make you watch while I take everything you’ve built and hand it to someone with better discipline.” Then he left. The six men followed. The door shut. Silence. 02:13. I didn’t move for ten seconds. Then I let go of Elspeth. She collapsed. Not to the floor. Just forward. Into me. Her face hit my chest. And she started shaking. Not crying. Shaking. “Hey,” I said. My voice was rough. “Hey. It’s over. He’s gone.” She pulled back. Looked up at me. Her eyes were dry. “You kissed me,” she said. Accusation. Wonder. “I had to,” I said. “To sell it.” “With your fangs out.” “Yes.” She touched her collarbone. Where my mouth had been. “Did you—” “No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I didn’t bite you. I would never—” “I know,” she said. Then, quieter: “I could feel it. You didn’t.” The room was too small. The air was too thick. On the vanity, the silver collar gleamed. I walked over. Picked it up. It was cold. Heavy for how thin it was. If I put this on her, Alistair would know if she ran again. If her heart sped up. If she felt anything. If I didn’t put it on her, he’d know I was defying him. “Damian,” Elspeth said behind me. I didn’t turn. “What?” “Is it true?” “What?” “That I’m yours now. Like... property.” The word again. My dead heart gave another thud. “No,” I said. “You’re not.” I turned. She was standing there, arms wrapped around herself. Still shaking. “But I have to put this on you,” I said. Holding up the collar. “Or he’ll know something’s wrong.” Elspeth looked at the collar. Then at me. “Then do it,” she said. I crossed the room. My hands were steady. They were always steady. I fastened the silver around her throat. It clicked. Too tight. Elspeth sucked in a breath. “Is it—” “It’s fine,” I said. Lying. “You’ll get used to it.” She looked up at me. The collar at her throat. My hand still on the clasp. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For tonight. For the three hours.” I dropped my hand. “Don’t thank me,” I said. “I just signed your death warrant.” Because tomorrow was the gala. And every vampire in Monsteria would see the Vance collar on the Kade CEO’s arm. And they would know. That I had chosen. That neutrality was dead. And that Alistair now owned us both. The collar gleamed in the lamplight. And somewhere far below, I heard the elevator start. Alistair was coming back.

Chapter 9: The Collar