As soon as the suppressor cuffs were removed, Alaric gasped, dragging in air like a drowning man breaching the surface for the first time.
His back arched against the cold metal table, a guttural growl tearing from his throat as the gnawing emptiness inside him filled with the comforting energy of his wolf.
But his mortal body was too weak. Even with his wolf's return, Alaric could barely summon a weak crackle of lightning between his fingers. The tiny sparks fizzled out almost immediately, leaving him panting.
Zara stood to the side, her arms folded, watching with the cold detachment of a medical practitioner. Her lips curved in satisfaction, but her voice was sharp as she commanded. "Give him another dose."
The assistant doctor, a nervous young woman in pale blue scrubs, spun toward her in alarm. "Luna Zara, are you sure about that? A second dose could—"
"Do it!" Zara's tone was so cold and commanding that the assistant flinched.
