Grand mal seizures that contorted his body and bent the bars of his cage. And there was absolutely nothing Julie could do about it but scream. Scream for bloody murder because no one was here to help him, and she was stuck in a damned cage. They’d gone to dinner, damn it. Dinner! While Alan’s body contorted and she was trapped, trapped, trapped! So she screamed out her desperation and prayed that someone would hear. If only the bonding had worked. She certainly stank enough for whatever pheromones to permeate the space. Her body temperature had spiked, sweat and stink had made her light-headed, and maybe for a few moments there she had felt something. Fury, emptiness. Connection? She didn’t know, and for the first time in her life she hated. She despised Evil Einstein to a degree she’d never believed she was capable. While she spoke soothing words to Alan, she stewed in fantasies of ripping them apart. Of dancing while their lifeblood poured into the ground from painful, gut-wrenching wounds.
