The Bureau (A Cage for Men and Wolves Book 1) by Michelle Kay Page B
Authors: Michelle Kay
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this." His face flushed.
"Oh, relax." Clover sighed, then tore a bite-sized piece of bread from the loaf. "I'm not gonna make you eat it with your face. Here."
Trying to look passive, she held the bit of bread to his mouth, but he pressed his lips together in defiance and they stared at one another again. After a moment Clover shrugged and put the piece she'd offered into her own mouth, continuing to speak as she chewed.
"I figure you're probably… confused . Probably wondering why I broke in and locked you in your bathroom." She offered him another piece of bread, only to eat it herself when he refused again. "The thing is, I need your help,"
"Help?" He laughed. "Why the hell would I help you ?”
"Well," she began, taking another bite to keep her temper distracted. "I don't know if maybe you forgot about being infected, but you're gonna help me because, if you don't, you'll never get the antidote."
"You're lying." Elliot's answer was immediate and confident. It made Clover's stomach clench. "There's no such thing."
"You think so?"
"If there was , wouldn't you just use it on yourself?" He watched the loaf of bread shrink.
"You humans think you're so smart, don't you?" Clover was grateful for her time spent lying to officers and to her aunt—her finely honed skills were paying off. "The antidote only works before someone's first transformation. Besides, it doesn't work on people who were born infected..." She looked down for effect, "Like I was."
The pause was slightly longer this time.
"Why should I trust you?"
"Well, the way I see it, you can trust me, help me and get a cure that might not exist." She leaned back in her chair. "Or you can refuse, not get a cure that may exist, and eventually get picked up by the Bureau.”
Clover watched the battle going on behind his mask of composure, and saw him begin to lose. Her knee bounced restlessly under the table as she tried to hide her impatience. She needed him to believe her lie— really believe it. Without him, everything she'd accomplished would crumble.
Just when she was about to open her mouth, planning to deliver a more direct threat, Elliot blinked, breaking their heated eye contact to look at the table instead. The sigh she let out was silent. She recognized his submission and spared his pride by offering him another bit of bread, not asking him to say anything out loud. This time he took it.
"I'm really hungry." His shoulders slumped in defeat.
"I know." Clover reassured him. "Come on, eat up."
For several minutes Clover fed him what remained of the bread, resentful of how weak he was to hunger. He'd gone less than twenty-four hours without food and was already desperate enough to eat from his captor's hands. It wasn't his fault. She was sure he'd never gone more than a day without a substantial meal, but it still made her angry. She fought the urge to ask if the Bureau fed their prisoners as regularly as they fed themselves.
When he was done, she retrieved a bottle of water and held it to his lips so he could drink, neither of them seeming to care as some spilled onto his stained shirt.
"You have a first-aid kit?"
"I do, if it wasn't destroyed when you threw it." Now that his stomach was full, he seemed to be trying to regain a bit of his pride.
"You better watch the way you talk to me." Clover stood up, yanking his shirt to get him up as well.
Elliot said nothing as she led him back up the stairs, the puncture-wound in his side seeming to be a fresh enough reminder that she meant business.
"It's that white box by the dresser." Elliot tilted his chin toward the small kit laying amidst the bottles of hand soap, toothpaste and cologne.
"Sit down." She shoved him onto the edge of the mattress before retrieving the box marked with a red cross.
It had everything she'd need, but as she tossed it onto the comforter, she realized she'd have to get his shirt off to patch his wounds. It would be hard with his hands still cuffed, but she wasn't
"Oh, relax." Clover sighed, then tore a bite-sized piece of bread from the loaf. "I'm not gonna make you eat it with your face. Here."
Trying to look passive, she held the bit of bread to his mouth, but he pressed his lips together in defiance and they stared at one another again. After a moment Clover shrugged and put the piece she'd offered into her own mouth, continuing to speak as she chewed.
"I figure you're probably… confused . Probably wondering why I broke in and locked you in your bathroom." She offered him another piece of bread, only to eat it herself when he refused again. "The thing is, I need your help,"
"Help?" He laughed. "Why the hell would I help you ?”
"Well," she began, taking another bite to keep her temper distracted. "I don't know if maybe you forgot about being infected, but you're gonna help me because, if you don't, you'll never get the antidote."
"You're lying." Elliot's answer was immediate and confident. It made Clover's stomach clench. "There's no such thing."
"You think so?"
"If there was , wouldn't you just use it on yourself?" He watched the loaf of bread shrink.
"You humans think you're so smart, don't you?" Clover was grateful for her time spent lying to officers and to her aunt—her finely honed skills were paying off. "The antidote only works before someone's first transformation. Besides, it doesn't work on people who were born infected..." She looked down for effect, "Like I was."
The pause was slightly longer this time.
"Why should I trust you?"
"Well, the way I see it, you can trust me, help me and get a cure that might not exist." She leaned back in her chair. "Or you can refuse, not get a cure that may exist, and eventually get picked up by the Bureau.”
Clover watched the battle going on behind his mask of composure, and saw him begin to lose. Her knee bounced restlessly under the table as she tried to hide her impatience. She needed him to believe her lie— really believe it. Without him, everything she'd accomplished would crumble.
Just when she was about to open her mouth, planning to deliver a more direct threat, Elliot blinked, breaking their heated eye contact to look at the table instead. The sigh she let out was silent. She recognized his submission and spared his pride by offering him another bit of bread, not asking him to say anything out loud. This time he took it.
"I'm really hungry." His shoulders slumped in defeat.
"I know." Clover reassured him. "Come on, eat up."
For several minutes Clover fed him what remained of the bread, resentful of how weak he was to hunger. He'd gone less than twenty-four hours without food and was already desperate enough to eat from his captor's hands. It wasn't his fault. She was sure he'd never gone more than a day without a substantial meal, but it still made her angry. She fought the urge to ask if the Bureau fed their prisoners as regularly as they fed themselves.
When he was done, she retrieved a bottle of water and held it to his lips so he could drink, neither of them seeming to care as some spilled onto his stained shirt.
"You have a first-aid kit?"
"I do, if it wasn't destroyed when you threw it." Now that his stomach was full, he seemed to be trying to regain a bit of his pride.
"You better watch the way you talk to me." Clover stood up, yanking his shirt to get him up as well.
Elliot said nothing as she led him back up the stairs, the puncture-wound in his side seeming to be a fresh enough reminder that she meant business.
"It's that white box by the dresser." Elliot tilted his chin toward the small kit laying amidst the bottles of hand soap, toothpaste and cologne.
"Sit down." She shoved him onto the edge of the mattress before retrieving the box marked with a red cross.
It had everything she'd need, but as she tossed it onto the comforter, she realized she'd have to get his shirt off to patch his wounds. It would be hard with his hands still cuffed, but she wasn't
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