“Yesterday, you consented to the donation of various samples, so we can proceed into the research of your condition.” Dr. Miller spoke firm and confident over the telecom, and on the other side of the glass, the subject paced his small, stark room, remaining unresponsive as usual.

“We will be sending Dr. Platts back into the containment room today to retrieve these samples. Upon cooperation, we will discuss your compensation. Do you understand, Subject?”

When Miller finished, the boy glanced towards the glass, but once again gave no further response. She somehow held herself together, despite his stubbornness clearly getting on her last nerve. Letting out a controlled sigh, Miller gave her attention to Rowan instead.

“You know, part of taking these samples means you will have to remove the safety bracelet and have direct physical contact with him? You will be vulnerable for the entire time you have the cuff off.” Miller was very good at sounding concerned despite her obvious excitement.

“I told you, I’m his only chance of getting out of here. He won’t hurt me. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

In the other room, the subject gave a breathy chuckle. “You’re assuming that I act based on logic and reason. And you know what they say about assuming.” His sarcasm was so thick it could have easily smothered Rowan if she let it.

“We can send someone else in with you. They could have a cuff on. That way if something happens, you’ll have someone to help get you out.” Miller offered an alternative, the subject’s tactics working to make the older woman nervous instead.

Rowan stared through glass wall for a moment, trying to read his blue gaze, looking for a tell that suggested he was lying, but his facial expression was as controlled as ever. She could only bluff back.

“He said no one else. Just me. I’ll be fine, doctor.” Her pulse picked up a beat with the fib, and she watched the subject’s lips twist up at the corner in response.

Rowan received a steel cart, topped with the equipment necessary to collect the samples. Clamped around her wrist, she wore the protective bracelet again, even though she knew it would have to come off soon. It still offered her the smallest bit of security, even if it was false comfort.

Miller ushered her through the first door of the security entrance, and before she could completely gather herself, the lock secured behind her, and she was once again faced with nothing but an unlatched door between herself and the monster on the other side. Rowan tried not to linger in her dread this time, reaching forward and pulling the door open, entering the room with her equipment in front of her.

The subject sat on his mattress in the corner of the room, as if completely uninterested in even greeting her this time. Perhaps he was already bored with the concept of having her around. She hoped that wasn’t the case, since boring him could result in being disposed of if he decided.

“Good morning.” Her voice shook when she spoke, so she cleared her throat to try and cover it. The crack had been too obvious, though.

“Morning, is it? I wouldn’t know. You doctors don’t shut off the lights in this fucking room. I’ve completely lost track of time. It’s maddening, actually.”

Clearly, he was much more irritated than the day before. It was not a promising start.

“You say that as if you’re normally sane.”

The reply slipped from her lips without her consent, the result of her nerves lubricating her tongue. Rowan immediately turned to fiddle with her equipment, biting at her tongue to punish herself for that bit of snark. She was sure sarcasm would not be the best approach at the moment.

A silence lulled, and then, to Rowan’s surprise, she heard the boy let out something that sounded like a laugh. A relieved breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding escaped her lungs. Somehow, she managed to come out of that unscathed.

“You cleaned up,” Rowan commented, extra polite this time, gesturing towards the now spotless floors and glass. His red-stained sheets had been collected and stored in the corner of the room. He even attempted to scrub his face, and his hair, although stringy, was no longer matted with dried blood. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do about the stains on his clothes, so he still looked horrifying.

“I thought it would make everyone a bit more comfortable.”

“Considerate of you.” She couldn’t help but let her surprise come out on her tone. This slip caused him to make that almost-laugh noise again. Rowan continued talking, jittery with how unsettling it was to hear him chuckling. “Maybe we could provide a change of clothes if you cooperate today?” Hopefully it wouldn’t hurt to bribe him. Perhaps he’d let her earlier snarkiness slide?

“How about we skip the sweet talk and just get started with the poking and prodding.”

He seemed less inclined to banter today, and the chip on his shoulder made Rowan increasingly uncomfortable.

She fisted her fingers to cease her shaking hands. “It won’t be nearly that unpleasant, I promise.”

“That’s too bad, I like unpleasant.”

His gaze gleamed when Rowan failed to find a response in her stress. Instead, she pulled her cart closer to him, fiddling again with the items to buy herself some time. Taking a few deep breaths through her nose, she contemplated which of the three processes would be the least intrusive to start with.

The biopsy would have to be last; it was the most painful, and she was most concerned of what his reaction would be to pain. It was also the least important compared to a DNA and blood sample, which would give them more of the information they needed.

The blood sample was perhaps the most important, but it also included penetrating his skin, and she was unsure if the sight of blood, even his own, would trigger another relapse into monster-mode like the day before. If just the sight of her veins set him off, it concerned her what actual blood would do.

That left only the DNA sample to start with. It wasn’t so bad. Just a quick swipe of the cotton swab inside his mouth. Rowan was not looking forward to getting anywhere near his face, though. She grabbed a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on carefully, putting off the inevitable.

He caught her red-handed in her procrastination. Taunting, he smirked and said, “I’m not really a patient person, doctor.”

Rowan resisted staring at him, attempting to shut him out a moment longer to help level herself instead. She knew the longer she stood there the longer she’d have to stay in that room, so despite her uneven breathing and trembling fingers, Rowan pressed her finger against the cuff locked around her wrist. Reading her fingerprint, the cuff chimed in confirmation and opened.

The subject moved in a flash, so fast he was just a blur in her peripherals. Before she could react he grabbed her wrist and pulled her around. Rowan used the momentum though, slashing her arm down in reflex, silver gleaming.

He took a quick intake of air, immediately recoiling a step and releasing her, the hand going up to his face instead. Touching his cheek, a line of blood bloomed across the skin, his fingertips collecting the rich red color. His sharp eyes searched for the culprit, finding the scalpel in Rowan’s hand. His pupils widened, an animal locked onto a target, but then he smirked and his eyes stretched back into blue. Letting himself fall back down onto the mattress, he chuckled a little, amused.

“I was only messing with you,” he offered, wiping at his cheek when the blood began to drip down his skin, licking it from his finger.

Rowan stared, the blood pooling up in his cut again, a much darker red than her own. When he caught her looking, she forced her gaze to the floor.

“Sorry,” she offered, but her hand still held a death grip around the scalpel. When she finally shook herself out of the crippling panic he induced, she put the makeshift weapon down and grabbed an alcohol swab instead. “I’ll clean that up for you.”

He waved her away when she got down on her knees next to him. “No need.” To explain himself, he thumbed away the excess blood again, and Rowan fell back on the balls of her feet, bewildered.

There was no wound.

“What happened?” She couldn’t logic it. In her amazement, she almost reached out to inspect the unblemished skin, but managed to contain her eager hands. “I cut you. You were bleeding. It’s like, you just, healed.”

“If you’re a scientist, why are you so slow?” He tried to be cruel, but his words didn’t quite reach the sharpness he was attempting.

Rowan ignored him regardless, hypothesizing to herself. “It’s like, some sort of rapid regeneration?”

“Congrats, genius. But if you would mind not slashing me with a scalpel next time... I heal, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.” He rubbed over the spot again, nursing the residual pain.

She sent him a nasty glare. “Don’t touch me, and I won’t have to defend myself.”

“Where’s the fun?” He shot back, his gaze dancing with dark humor. “You’re so jumpy. It’s like you think I’m going to kill you or something.”

Scowling, she chose not to comment on his intentionally disturbing words, and instead stood to return to her cart.

“I’m taking a DNA sample first. Just have to rub this swab on the inside of your cheek. So, open. Please.”

Rowan explained flatly, trying to distance herself from what she had to do, since thinking about it was scaring her stiff. Opening up the long cotton swab from its sterile packaging, she went back to her knees next to the mattress he sat on, waiting.

“I’ve decided what I want, in return for cooperating,” he said, before opening his mouth obediently.

“Have you?”

Rowan’s response was distracted as she caught a glimpse of his straight, white teeth and remembered them tearing through the flesh on William’s neck. She wasn’t sure what she expected. There was absolutely nothing unusual about them. His canines were possibly a bit sharper than the average person, but besides that, his teeth looked entirely human. It only disturbed Rowan more, because that meant it had taken a huge amount of pressure to break skin as easily as he had.

She swallowed down the knot in her throat and leaned forward, setting a firm hand under his chin and wiping the swab thoroughly against the inside of his cheek. She was careful to make sure she did it correctly, not keen on a redo. When she finished, she withdrew quickly, putting the swab in a test tube and sealing it with a cork.

The boy ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek before elaborating. “As much as I appreciate the meals you’ve been providing so far, I wanted to request something a little fresher.”

Rowan moved to prepare the needle for drawing blood, but paused with his request. She hoped she was wrong, but it sounded like he was asking for a live meal. Another live meal.

He scoffed with humor, like he'd read her mind, and perhaps even made the request knowing it'd garner her exact reaction. “You assume the worst of me,” he said, as if he was offended, but his blue eyes laughed. When Rowan glared, he explained further. “I just meant, a fresh donation. One of you doctors sit down and put some of your blood in a bag for me.”

She turned back to the cart, unpackaging the vacutainer, her back too straight. “Is there something wrong with what we’re providing?”

“The preservatives make me feel sick. And it’s strange drinking it cold when I’m used to... body temperature.” He punctuated with another wolfish grin.

Once again, Rowan pretended to be unaffected by his games despite her throat knotting. “I’ll see what I can do,” she answered finally, then returned to her knees, holding out a hand to receive his arm. “I need to draw some blood next.”

He sighed, like being accommodating was a bother, but moved closer to her and offered his limb. When she reached to meet him, he jerked, causing her to flinch.

He smirked playfully.

Growing frustrated with his toying, and more than ready to leave that room, Rowan hurried forward with her job, placing the tourniquet and tying it around his upper arm.

“The blood is not going to bother you?” She cupped her hand around his to direct his fingers into a fist.

“You just had me bleeding. A little bit more won’t make a difference.”

It slipped her mind, or perhaps she had purposely forgotten how he’d wiped his own blood from his face and licked it from his fingers mere moments ago. While massaging the skin at the bend of his arm with her thumb to find a good vein, she asked timidly, “Is it just other’s blood that, you know. Affects you?” She didn’t know how to phrase it without sounding ridiculous.

“It would be problematic if I went crazy over my own blood, wouldn’t it?”

She hadn’t thought of that, and found herself flush from embarrassment with her ignorant question. “It sounds terribly problematic, your condition.” With the comment, she pushed the tip of the needle against his skin until it punctured.

“It has its perks, though.” He added with a breathy chuckle, and she felt it on her ear, causing her to shoot her eyes up.

He sat close now, nothing but her curtain of thin, blonde hair between her neck and his teeth. Rowan tried to act unbothered and unaware, but she was holding her breath now, worried he might get a whiff of something that would stir his appetite if she exhaled. When she let the air carefully out through her nose, she saw his lip turn up out of the corner of her eye.

Rowan retrieved the vacutainer, attaching it and watching as the blood pulled from his vein into the small vial. Dark and rich like from the wound on his face, she wondered what kind of secrets it held.

He read her fascination with different intentions. When he spoke again it was under his breath. “You could enjoy those perks too, Dr. Platts.” He said her name like a sigh, right to her ear, Rowan’s muscles seizing up in reaction. He was sitting just right, angled so her head sheltered his lips from the view of the other doctors in the observation room. An enticing secret intended just for her slithered from his lips. “You could be just like me. Right now if you wanted. Just a little taste is all it would take. Aren’t you tired of being so human? I can show you what it feels like to be a god, instead.”

Distracted by his words exhaled hot across her neck, Rowan let the vacutainer fill to the brim. She swore when she noticed, removing it messily and cleaning up the blood that dripped down his arm. Her hands shaking fiercely, she tried to still them by putting pressure on his wound until it healed.

“Last thing I need is a biopsy,” she said after pulling herself together again, moving on as if she hadn’t heard his whispers. It was impossible to hide the quiver of her voice though, especially with him watching her fumble, his expression cool and calm, lips tilted up at the corner like a comma.

She collected the last instruments needed, and positioned herself by his shoulder, determined to do the biopsy as quickly as possible so she could get out of that room, away from the sick, blood-hungry monster currently whispering his version of sweet nothings into her ear.

“This will hurt. I have to take a muscle sample with this needle, so it will go deep, past the skin and fat.” She primed the tip on his skin, puncturing through with little warning. His brows furrowed at her aggressiveness, but his eyes gleamed with humor. He got pleasure from disturbing her, and even more from the punishment.

“I have a further request about my compensation,” he said, pausing to wait for her reaction. Rowan stopped her work briefly to glare at him, and he took that as invitation to elaborate. He smiled and leaned closer again. “I’d like your blood.”

She shoved the needle deep, until it hit muscle, then pulled it out in a swift motion. The boy swore at her, putting a hand over the spot to nurse the pain, his eyes laughing wildly.

“Why?” Rowan asked, short and sharp, collecting the muscle sample into a vial and beginning to gather up her cart to leave. In her panic, she almost forgot to put her cuff back on, fumbling to clasp it around her wrist again when she realized.

He was busy inspecting his shoulder, making sure the needle hole disappeared before standing along with her. “I told you. I have a preference for A negative.” He smirked when he received another dirty look. “And having a certain smell around makes the craving for a particular flavor more, intolerable. I thought if I got a little taste, maybe I wouldn’t want to bury my teeth into your neck so badly.”

The imagery made Rowan shudder as her hand subconsciously jumped up to her throat. “And what if it just makes it worse?” Rowan didn’t like the idea of him having a taste for her. It felt disturbingly intimate. Thinking about it made her skin crawl.

“If it makes it worse, then I’ll let you know.”

Rowan stayed silent, considering, but was unable to give him an answer. Her brain wasn’t working correctly. All she could think about was his breath on her ear, and his laughing blue eyes driving her mad. Instead, she moved her cart to the door, opting to leave the request open-ended.

“You’re welcome back any time, doctor.” His tone mocked cheerfulness as she closed the metal door behind herself, the lock latching tightly.