The Bureau (A Cage for Men and Wolves Book 1) by Michelle Kay Page A
Authors: Michelle Kay
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disappointed with herself . Disappointed that she'd not thought more about the cost of the watches, and that she was too scared of Fisher to chase after him. Holding tight to the new, ratty bag she'd gotten, she tried to focus, instead, on what she had to do by morning.
Things at her new base of operation were just as she'd left them. She made a mental to-do list and figured telling Elliot what she needed from him was a good a place to start. Upstairs, the chair she'd used to barricade the door was still in place, and even with her ear at the door she couldn't hear anything. The fear that he was dead crept up on her again.
Steeling her face, she opened the door, not wanting him to see any nervousness in her expression if he wasn't comatose. Having half-expected to walk in on a stiff body, she was relieved to find him sitting on the floor, his back to the tub, his legs folded casually in front of him, but she also found his composure jarring. The cool eyes he turned on her had a spark of hatred that seemed intensified by his tranquility.
"Glad to see you're still alive," Clover said, able to hear the fake bravado in her voice.
"Were you trying to kill me?" His voice was rough from disuse.
"Well you wouldn't be much use to me dead." She leaned against the door frame, trying to match his disinterest.
Without a word, they sized each other up. A dark bruise had formed on Elliot's brow where she'd clubbed him with the cell phone, his shirt had two brown stains of dried blood, and she knew his thumbs were probably purple. If he was in pain, he was hiding it, and it was that calm, angelic face that infuriated Clover the most. Even with the hidden anger she saw in his eyes, they still had an edge of kindness to them, and it made the whole process so much harder.
"Are you hungry?" She crossed her arms over her stomach, glancing at the bare counter to cut off the pity she began feeling.
"Do you care?"
"Look, if you're not interested, I can leave you in here for a few more hours."
Silence settled between them again as an insulted sensation brewed inside her. Sure, she'd broken into his home, bitten him, stabbed him a little, and locked him in his own bathroom, but now she was trying to do something nice. He should be more grateful.
"Come on." Clover took a breath and tried being nice again. "I'll loosen your thumb-ties too."
Elliot considered her, his eyes screaming distrust, but after a moment he fumbled his way to his feet, only a ghost of the pain she knew he felt showing on his face. Hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she led him out of his room and down the stairs, neither of them speaking as they went. In the sitting room, she fashioned a set of loose handcuffs from more zip-ties she'd stashed in her bag. After his new bindings were secure, ensuring his hands would remain behind his back, a pair of sheers they found in the kitchen were used to cut the ties off his dark and swollen fingers.
Elliot's head fell back in relief as the rigid plastic band was snapped off. She’d never tell him, but she was glad he was in less pain. Maybe it would keep him from being so difficult. Reminding herself that she needed to keep in control, she pushed him toward the table, forcing him into one of the chairs. Turning her back to him in an intentional show of trust, she retrieved a loaf of bread she'd found in his cupboards that had cheese and some sort of spicy meat cooked into it. She'd eaten half the loaf already, but figured it would be easy for him to manage with his hands still bound.
"Here." She set the bread down in front of him, taking the adjacent seat.
"How am I supposed to eat this?" he asked, frustration clouding his otherwise calm voice.
"Well you are a dog now, aren't you?" she said, despite her attempt to play nice. The satisfaction of returning the horrible slang humans had been using on her and her people was worth it, though. "Shouldn't you learn to eat like one?"
"You're going to be arrested for
Things at her new base of operation were just as she'd left them. She made a mental to-do list and figured telling Elliot what she needed from him was a good a place to start. Upstairs, the chair she'd used to barricade the door was still in place, and even with her ear at the door she couldn't hear anything. The fear that he was dead crept up on her again.
Steeling her face, she opened the door, not wanting him to see any nervousness in her expression if he wasn't comatose. Having half-expected to walk in on a stiff body, she was relieved to find him sitting on the floor, his back to the tub, his legs folded casually in front of him, but she also found his composure jarring. The cool eyes he turned on her had a spark of hatred that seemed intensified by his tranquility.
"Glad to see you're still alive," Clover said, able to hear the fake bravado in her voice.
"Were you trying to kill me?" His voice was rough from disuse.
"Well you wouldn't be much use to me dead." She leaned against the door frame, trying to match his disinterest.
Without a word, they sized each other up. A dark bruise had formed on Elliot's brow where she'd clubbed him with the cell phone, his shirt had two brown stains of dried blood, and she knew his thumbs were probably purple. If he was in pain, he was hiding it, and it was that calm, angelic face that infuriated Clover the most. Even with the hidden anger she saw in his eyes, they still had an edge of kindness to them, and it made the whole process so much harder.
"Are you hungry?" She crossed her arms over her stomach, glancing at the bare counter to cut off the pity she began feeling.
"Do you care?"
"Look, if you're not interested, I can leave you in here for a few more hours."
Silence settled between them again as an insulted sensation brewed inside her. Sure, she'd broken into his home, bitten him, stabbed him a little, and locked him in his own bathroom, but now she was trying to do something nice. He should be more grateful.
"Come on." Clover took a breath and tried being nice again. "I'll loosen your thumb-ties too."
Elliot considered her, his eyes screaming distrust, but after a moment he fumbled his way to his feet, only a ghost of the pain she knew he felt showing on his face. Hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she led him out of his room and down the stairs, neither of them speaking as they went. In the sitting room, she fashioned a set of loose handcuffs from more zip-ties she'd stashed in her bag. After his new bindings were secure, ensuring his hands would remain behind his back, a pair of sheers they found in the kitchen were used to cut the ties off his dark and swollen fingers.
Elliot's head fell back in relief as the rigid plastic band was snapped off. She’d never tell him, but she was glad he was in less pain. Maybe it would keep him from being so difficult. Reminding herself that she needed to keep in control, she pushed him toward the table, forcing him into one of the chairs. Turning her back to him in an intentional show of trust, she retrieved a loaf of bread she'd found in his cupboards that had cheese and some sort of spicy meat cooked into it. She'd eaten half the loaf already, but figured it would be easy for him to manage with his hands still bound.
"Here." She set the bread down in front of him, taking the adjacent seat.
"How am I supposed to eat this?" he asked, frustration clouding his otherwise calm voice.
"Well you are a dog now, aren't you?" she said, despite her attempt to play nice. The satisfaction of returning the horrible slang humans had been using on her and her people was worth it, though. "Shouldn't you learn to eat like one?"
"You're going to be arrested for
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