Delilah:
I stared at the door Damon had just slammed shut, the echo of it vibrating through the walls and my bones. My hands trembled, but not from fear. From rage.
He was smarter than I gave him credit for.
That made him dangerous.
My father was right. I did underestimate Damon Lockwood. The man knew what he was up to. He knew what I was standing against. I did not. But now that I saw and caught a glimpse of it, I knew how to control it.
Most men were easy to bend, simple-minded creatures driven by lust or ego. I’d learned how to twist both to my favor, how to smile just right, cry at the perfect moment, tilt my head in that helpless way that made them drop their guard. I had trained myself in manipulation the way warriors trained with blades. I perfected it.
I was always sure that
