Roman nearly gagged instantly. That tasted bitter and wrong like swallowing burnt blood and poison mixed together.
The force released him seconds later, and he doubled over coughing violently, trying to spit the substance back out. But nothing came up.
"Oh goddess," Roman wheezed. "I'm fairly certain no living creature was meant to consume that."
"Put him on the table."
This time Roman fought properly. Or tried to. But the collar around his neck weakened him badly, leaving his movements sluggish and ineffective. The wolves overpowered him easily despite his kicking and struggling.
"On his back," Ziva instructed.
Roman's eyes widened. "Absolutely not. Why on my back?" Alarm flooded him instantly. He really didn't like where this was going, especially with the direction his thoughts were taking.
"Listen, I support personal freedom and all, but I'm very committed to my current preferences."
