Here’s the second to the last free glimpse of the book. I really hope you enjoyed reading. I’m looking forward to hearing from you. Thanks!
CHAPTER 3: Part 1
The drive to their destination was short. Harrow could tell by the reverberation of the engine and the echoing sounds of rubber hitting asphalt that they were moving underground. The sound of enormous metal gates whirring and rollers grinding resonated in the close area that surrounded them, and several vehicles entered before the gates were shut.
Doors opened simultaneously, and he was yanked from the middle rear passenger seat and hauled to his feet.
“Take them to the I-room,” the commander said.
What’s an eye-room? Harrow wanted to ask. Several hands began shoving him forward, and he marched with the rest of the footsteps towards an unknown destination. The sounds of the city were muted; nothing but the buzzing of fluorescent lights and the heavy sounds of their footfalls could be heard. The air was clean — sanitized, almost. Although he could determine faint light through the sack covering his face, he couldn’t tell if they were in a hospital or a laboratory.
They walked about one hundred feet, through doors, and down several steps before he was taken inside a room and made to sit on a cold, steel chair. “Wait here,” one man commanded.
“Like I could go anywhere,” Harrow said. This was taking too damn long; he needed to feed. The longer he had to wait, the more probable that things would turn ugly. His lesions were already burning; the blisters would soon follow, and God knew what was next. Harrow had never dared to let his condition get that far because he was aware that death would not be far behind. He’d seen corpses of vampires, their skin looking like they’d been exposed to the sun, and their flesh rotting, reeking of death, and seeping with purplish liquid. The sight was gruesome enough for him to not want to go there. Ever.
“Don’t be a smartass,” the vampire next to him said. “You have the balls to talk when you brought this upon us.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Harrow bit out.
“You have to ask? Can’t you tell you’ve done enough damage already? Why don’t you just shrivel up and die, you pathetic motherfucker!”
“Shut up, you two,” the voice of the commander bellowed inside the room. They hadn’t heard his footsteps approaching. “I will remove your face covers, and I expect you girls to behave. I will do the talking, and you guys will listen. Got it?”
Harrow stayed silent, waiting for the other vampire to speak, but the silence stretched unbroken.
“Okay?” the commander repeated.
“Fine,” Harrow gritted out his answer. He wasn’t combative by nature, but his frustration was simmering, and he could feel his anger rising. He needed blood, and if he didn’t get it soon, he’d be happy to introduce the goddamn commander to his fangs.
Before the head cover was removed, he felt metal scuff his ankle, and an anklet snapped in place. The same sound came from the other side of the room where his original assailant was, and soon enough, his growl filled the room in response. His hood was lifted then, and it took a few moments for his pupils to adjust to the well-lit room. He blinked several times, trying to focus his sensitive eyes on his surroundings.
There were about ten brute-sized men positioned around him and the other vampire, including the commander of the group. They were in an oval-shaped room with metal chairs and tables. Everything looked like it was standard military issue, and Harrow had a sinking feeling that he’d been captured by a group of renegade humans who might have knowledge of vampires’ existence.
Great, just what he needed. More complications to his already fucked-up existence.
The walls were devoid of ornamentation. Instead, cameras were in every spot imaginable, all pointed in their direction. Harrow took his time studying his environment before focusing on the commander, who was watching him with an intent stare. He looked nothing like the men with him. His neat, spiked blond hair was pressed to his skull, and his crystal blue eyes watched Harrow’s movements with calculating intensity. He had a beak-shaped nose and a prominent jaw, giving him more of a GQ appearance than the rogue persona he projected.
“You . . . what’s your name?” the commander asked Harrow.
“Why don’t you tell me yours first, since you seem to know what you want from me,” Harrow answered. He was still wearing his sunglasses and doubted the man knew he was shooting death glares his way.
“I think it’s best for us to see eye-to-eye here,” the leader commented before nodding to the man standing on his right. The man took two big steps forward and knocked the sunglasses off Harrow’s face.
With handcuffs still in place, Harrow could only fume. There was nothing else he could do except wait to dish out his own brand of hell later.
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