It radiated out from his wrists, downward, and his whole body trembled with the instinct to shift into his wolf, certain he was in immediate danger. His fangs slipped down effortlessly, a comforting weight on his lower lip, and his claws snicked out, sharp and ready. But that was as far as he got. No matter how much he concentrated, the change wouldn’t come, and Jordan whined in frustration as his body refused to do as he asked. He opened his eyes, squinting into the bright light and growled, low and menacing as his surroundings finally registered. He was in a cage. His arms were chained up above his head—that explained the pain—while his ankles were attached to thick metal rings on the floor. He yanked on them as hard as he could manage, but they barely rattled. He gave up trying to get free and took a good look around him. The cage seemed to be about eight feet square, tucked against the back wall of a white room. The only other things in there with him were two chairs and a covered trolley.
