23 Project Leash & Collar #3
“My name is Luca, though I don’t expect you care,” he says, getting to his feet and tucking his hands in his pockets as he leans against the back of the cell.
He’s wearing tight jeans, acid washed and faded, calling to mind 1980s movies.
They’re freshly ripped at the knees, the edges stained the dark red of blood, and a Gorillaz T-shirt.
One of my favorite bands. I wonder if he’s ever seen a concert, something I’ve only seen on-screen.
His feet are bare, no sign of shoes or socks.
I’m starkly aware of my neat, all-black attire and sturdy boots.
I set down the supplies on the lab table outside the cell, hoping my hands don’t shake and trying to look busy while I flounder.
“You can call me Kingsley,” I say gruffly, knowing full well Adele would tell me not to bother with a name at all.
“So, Kingsley, are you going to let me out of here if I give you a blood sample?” Luca asks.
“That’s not my call,” I hedge. I tap the hatch door. “If you come this way, I can unlock this and take a blood sample that way.”
Luca makes an exaggerated face like he’s considering this. “No,” he finally says, “I don’t think I will.”
“Look, I don’t want to tranquilize you and take it, but—”
“Then don’t.”
“I need a blood sample.”
“What for? And why should I do anything for someone who locked me in a cage? I don’t even know where I am or why I’m here. Who are you people?” He paces the cage like . . . well, exactly like a caged animal.
“Technically, I didn’t lock you up. That was my—that was Adele.”
“Bullshit,” he growls, glowering at me. “You might not have turned the key, but you’re not exactly innocent here, showing up in some masked phantom getup and demanding my blood.”
A sick feeling washes through my stomach. He’s got a point. “Nevada,” I say. A little information can’t hurt. Not like he has anyone to tell.
“What?”
“You’re in Nevada.” When he simply stares at me, still frowning, I continue, “I assume you’re here because you’re a werewolf.”
Luca looks taken aback for the first time. “How did you figure that out?”
“It’s the project she assigned me. As for how Adele or whoever she sent to capture you knew, your guess is as good as mine. She has her ways.”
“Who is Adele?”
“My mother,” I admit. Against my better judgment, I tell him about Agency 51 and Adele—far more information than I should give.
I make the werewolf project sound more like general research and perfecting a vaccine and treatment.
It’s not exactly conducive to my goals to tell him Adele would like to collar him like a dog and use him for some mysterious purpose that even I’m not privy to.
I can tell he knows I’m not telling him everything.
Why should he believe I’m being honest when I have him locked in a cage?
Luca finally agrees to let me get a blood sample in exchange for the promise of clean clothes and a book.
I agree but tell him to keep the book hidden on the off chance Adele comes to visit.
He looks at me with the distinct expression of “I’m not stupid” written on his face.
I’m fascinated by the intensity of his facial expressions.
Up close, with only the transparent barrier between us, I see that Luca’s eyes are even more piercing and that we’re almost exactly the same height.
He holds his arm through the hatch, and I notice his skin is startlingly warm even through my nitrile gloves.
I’m shocked my hands don’t tremble as I place the bandage and deftly release the rubber tourniquet.
He grabs my arm as I pull away, firmly enough that I would have to struggle to get free, edging toward painful. Only years of hiding my emotions keep me from flinching.
“Let go,” I say coldly.
“Tell me something about you,” Luca demands. “You took something of mine. Fair’s fair.”
I don’t know what possesses me to say it, an actual truth, rather than some mundane lie. “That’s one of my favorite bands, on your T-shirt. I want to see them in concert someday.”
Luca huffs out a laugh but doesn’t release my arm. “I meant something more introspective, you know, something deep.”
His response momentarily baffles me because what I just told him feels like a dark secret. It is a desire I’d never utter to Adele or my sisters. I’ve never been off the base.
“Come on,” Luca says, his voice low. His grip is gentler now, no longer holding me in place, his fingers caressing my arm.
“I’ve never been off base,” I say. I want him to understand that what he thinks is shallow, to me is still an unexplored depth.
Luca blinks, taken aback. “Seriously?” he says, drawing his arm back inside the hatch.
I shrug, trying to remain nonchalant.
“How old are you?” he asks.
“Twenty.”
“Sheesh,” he says, looking surprised.
I feel like I’ve given the wrong answer somehow, although I’m not sure what he expected, if he thought I was older or younger than that.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-six,” he answers, and I nod as if that was exactly what I expected.
“You’ve never left this building?” he asks. The pity in his eyes sparks a bolt of anger coursing through my chest.
“I’ve been outside,” I snap, “just not into a town or city.”
“Guess I’m not the only one in a cage.”