He adjusted something on the tray and did not answer.
Naturally. Why would he? Why did I think he would?
“What are you doing?” I repeated, louder, because fear was crawling up my throat and I refused to let it come out as begging.
He looked at me then and decided I was worth it. Or maybe he was amused by my fear.
Who knew? He was a sick fucker anyways.
“Canine response evaluation.”
“You blocked my wolf! How are you supposed to–.”
He moved closer without letting me finish, lurching over me.
I jerked against the restraints, and the tube in my arm tugged hard enough to send pain shooting up to my shoulder.
Bad idea.
Noted.
He placed gloved fingers under my jaw.
I snapped at him.
Or tried to.
The restraint across my forehead kept me from doing anything useful, and my teeth clicke
