Page 72 of Veil of Shadows

“What do you want?” I hissed.

Delilah’s grin was positively devious. “You.”

I shook my head. That was, until the tendril that seemed to be born from the undulating wall behind me tightened.

“You may want to stand still,” Delilah said as she tilted her head. Her pale, almost translucent skin popped against the black background of where the fuck she had me. “They tighten when someone moves.”

I gasped for air. “I feel that.”

Delilah giggled with glee. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Your transformation. You get to choose how it happens.”

“I would rather die.”

She tisked softly. “Come now, don’t be a spoiled sport. I have a few surprises up my sleeve, if you cooperate.”

I snarled at her. “I would rather eat fucking lead.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Do you think Jacob would have preferred that option?”

I roared at her as I tugged the restraints, feeling them tighten around my wrists and ankles. “Don’t you dare say his name!”

My voice echoed all around us, but Delilah kept a cool head. “Whose? Jacob?”

“Stop it!”

“Your former partner, Jacob?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled.

“The one we had to leave?—”

“Shut up!” I shrieked.

I yanked and tugged and struggled against the gooey substance that had me trapped. Little by little, it tightened until my body stopped fighting it altogether. I wheezed with every breath. My hands went numb. My feet felt like they no longer existed. And as I swallowed, I realized that I had to spit in order to get the saliva out of my mouth.

So, I spat to the floor as Delilah watched me.

“Finished?” she asked coolly.

I had to close my eyes and will myself to stop fighting. “I know how this works, and it’ll never work on me.”

“Oh?”

I slowly opened my eyes. “A human has to be willing to turn into a vampire, otherwise your poison simply kills them.”

“True,” she said plainly.

My nostrils flared. “I’ll never be willing.”

The smile melted from Delilah’s face, and I closed my eyes. I braced myself for whatever was coming. A punch. A slap. Torture, in all its forms. I worked with Delilah long enough to know exactly how she did things. I watched her run people through the ringer as if the rules didn’t apply to her one fucking bit. I recalled the very first time I ever walked in on her slapping someone around. I whipped that interrogation room door open only months into her being my boss, and I watched her crack a poor 19-year-old kid across the fucking face. Why? Well, for not ratting out his little drug-selling buddies, that’s why.

I drew in the deepest breath that I could and braced myself for whatever tortures she had coming.

But instead, I felt Delilah’s cold, disgusting breath on my face when she finally spoke up. “You know, there’s someone who’s been waiting to see you.”

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